Fic - It Always Rains - Chapter 24 (of 25)
It's finished. I published Chapter 1 of this story in January of 2007. The last book wasn't out. The horcruz hunt was all speculation. The epiloque just a young person's nightmare. It was the first novel I'd ever written and finished. I'm pretty proud of this story, sparked by my love for Harry Potter and the relationship of Harry and Draco, as well as Sirius and Remus. Please enjoy the finish of my Harry Potter novel.
If you want to start from the beginning, start at It Always Rains Chapter 1
Title: It Always Rains
Author: winnett
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-R
Genre: Adventure/Romance/Mystery
Summary: Dark conspiracies, unlikely friendships and the endless weeping of the sky. Harry must follow a trail of clues to not only save his friend, but perhaps even the British wizarding world.
Warnings: Male/male sexual situations.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. I just like to let them out to play.
Author's notes: Thanks so much to my betas KF and megyal who agreed to help me polish up the last few chapters of this story! You rock! I couldn't do this without you.
Word count: Approximately 6,000
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Chapter 24
"Son when you grow up, will you be the saviour of the broken,
The beaten and the damned?"
My Chemical Romance - Welcome to the Black Parade
A loud knock reverberated through the hollow, wooden door, rattling it on its hinges. "You guys up yet? Still shagging?" came the words loud and clear.
"Good morning, Wolfwood," Draco said cheerily as he peeled himself off of Harry. Harry grabbed his waist and pulled him back down for a kiss.
"Breakfast is in ten minutes. Don't miss it or you'll make Nancy cry," Wolfwood said and then footsteps faded away.
"Guess the privacy charms are down," Harry said, grinning up at Draco.
"Don't tell me… You didn't notice when they came down?" Draco asked in mock shock.
"I was kind of busy," he said and lunged for Draco's ear, sucking heavily on it as he rolled it between his teeth. Draco groaned; Harry'd quickly discovered Draco's ears and sucking were a mighty combination.
They wasted another few minutes before duty forced them out of bed. After charming away love bites and morning breath, they pulled on the same clothes from yesterday.
Remus sat at the long table with Sirius sitting next to him. Sirius laughing and talking and eating food and completely, entirely corporeal.
Harry's step faltered.
"Sirius!" Harry cried out. When Sirius was a ghost, that phantom being, Harry didn't really think of it as Sirius, just a diluted counterfeit, but now this laughing man, barking at some joke someone must have said, was real. "Sirius!"
Harry ran to him.
"Harry!" Sirius stood so quickly, his chair teetered haphazardly on two legs before he enveloped Harry in a bear hug. "Can you believe this?" The two men embraced and slapped each other's backs; ages came and passed before they pulled apart, smiling like fools.
"You certainly are an odd group," Wolfwood said. "I think there is little about you now that would shock me." He looked at them with heavy eyes, and Harry doubted this wizard would be surprised if a dodo bird paraded itself before him in a top hat.
"How are you whole?" Harry asked, then realized how callous he sounded. "I mean…"
Sirius 'thunked' him on the back again with his right arm and gripped him tight with the other. "Oh come now." He shook his head, a bright grin proving no insult. "Don't worry about it. And I think I'm whole because of this building." He looked around the warehouse. "It's thrumming with magic. It must be sustaining me."
A moment of silence settled upon the room, Harry staring at Sirius, Sirius glowing with life, and finally Wolfwood ordered them to sit and eat, and without complaint they did so.
The table wasn't overly burdened by food, and though Harry didn't want to seem like an uncultured pig, the hash browns were so damned good, not to mention the waffles slathered with cream and strawberries, that he found himself sheepishly returning for seconds.
"So," Draco said, drawing attention away from Harry's bottomless stomach. "How long has this coven been at this location?"
The crowd delivered a truncated history of the coven--in short snippets and interjections-that had been around for centuries with the secrets and knowledge passed from the elders to the initiates over the years. Harry was astounded to hear about such a closed society. Britain's Statute of Secrecy held nothing on this coven's near fanatical hold on their secrets. He was surprised they'd even let him and his friends in.
"Mr. Potter… Harry," the youngest male of the group interrupted. "I know we aren't supposed to ask, but how did you defeat that Dark wizard in England? Even us isolated wizards up here heard about him. What was his name? Vandermar? Baltarmurt? Something like that?"
The silence iced over the previously jovial breakfasting. Half the coven scowled at their member even as they glanced over at Harry in poorly veiled curiosity.
Harry shifted in his seat, as usual uncomfortable under the gaze of so many people. "I didn't do it alone," he mumbled into his glass of orange juice. He pondered the juice, blocking out the mumblings of the diners. Its colour practically glowed and it tasted too sweet, but he guessed it wasn't bad.
"So," a middle aged woman said, "you must be rather powerful to have taken on so much."
Harry knocked his glass trying to set it down on the table; tendons ridged along the flat surface of the back of his hand. "It wasn't just me." His voice was loud in his ears. "I'm nothing special. Other people did far more than me; I was just in the wrong prophecy at the wrong time and…" Harry stopped, his initial, confused fury shrinking under the eyes of a score of people.
"But you are powerful, we can all tell. You and your friends. You're all… mighty or something," said the youth with a cocksure grin. Something about him reminded him of a younger Sirius, and so he looked at his godfather for comparison. Sirius only watched Harry with eyebrows raised.
Draco cleared his throat, drawing Harry's attention. He exchanged a look with Harry then with the people around the table.
"We ran the gauntlet through hell and are here to tell the tale. That makes us mighty," Draco explained succinctly.
~~~
"The ritual is prepared. All we require is the final puzzle piece and we shall destroy the Dark artefact forthwith. Are you ready?" asked Apis, her hands gripped tight before her. Harry rolled his eyes, Draco smirked, and Remus and Sirius shared amusing cow-eyed gazes at each other when they thought nobody was looking.
Apparently Remus had made his decision and Harry couldn't be happier. He only wished them as much time as possible, not dwelling on when this miracle might end.
"Yes, we are," he told the witch. "Draco and I will return to England, get the orb, and Apparate back here immediately. Are you sure this little box will control it?" Harry lifted the ten by ten inch box of blood basalt in his hand. "The orb is the brains of the operation." It had the same spells as the larger cabinet, but he still didn't have complete faith in its power to control the most powerful well of magic he'd ever felt.
Wolfwood snorted, his twitching beard framing the man's frown. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Do you doubt us?" Harry looked into those eyes, piercing and astute, threatening physical hell if such a suggestion were claimed.
"No, sir." Harry shook his head. "I have full faith in your stone box. We'll just be going now," he said and grabbed Draco's hand as they left for the Apparition zone.
Even with all of the rushing around and planning and dealing with a room full of strangers, Harry still found he couldn’t take his eyes from Draco for too long. He seemed to seek out the blond wizard like a child seeking out rich chocolate or a prince seeking his… umm, well not necessarily princess. But he felt drawn to Draco, and he cherished this new and encompassing feeling.
He squeezed Draco's hand, who gripped at his in return and with a warm smile from his lover, they Apparated to Our Holy Weeper, asleep in the heart of night.
There was little security at the church and so close to midnight that nobody was around. The two men slipped in with simple spells until they stood above the sanctum below.
As before, tendrils of power from the orb clutched at Harry, seeping up from its buried sanctuary beneath the flagstones of the church floor. Its power had inundated even more of the little parish than it had just a few nights ago and Harry wondered at the strength of it.
His stomach rolled over as he felt that power lunge towards him, attempting to burrow into him like ravenous larva. Bile burned the back of his throat.
"Draco, we need to hurry," he groaned out, desperately attempting to occlude his mind, cut off any pathway that the orb might be forging to control him. It tickled his brain and dug in, with claws, with teeth, with barbed hooks. Harry felt each cut, each pierce. "Draco!" As panic snuffed all sense, the air zinged with magical energy. Small items rose into the air, candle chandeliers began to sway in a non-existent breeze.
"Harry. Harry, I'm here. Come on, hang in there. Remember the wall." A wall? Harry grasped on this word like a truth amidst lies. "Just sit here and remember the stone wall. I'll be right back."
A tight feeling within him, a squeeze on his heart, shocked Harry from his frenzy. With little grace, he flopped against the church wall and slid his body to the floor, his arms loose at his sides as he pressed his back against the wood panelling. With everything muddled-his senses, his brain-he felt uncomfortably detached. He blinked and watched as Draco descended, a blurry form a million miles away. He was cold, cold and alone in this vast void. He might as well give it up. Silence cloaked him and he felt the world's weight of sorrow pressing all around him. But, there was something within him, a strong hold on his heart, supporting him from the inside. And as he struggled to keep his head afloat, eyes squeezing away the cloudy haze, Harry felt the orb's power severed.
He fell to the floor in relief, sucking in lungfuls of clear, beautiful air.
"Got it," Draco called out as he appeared from the sanctum, stone box in his hands and brow glistening with sweat. He drabbed at his forehead with a silk handkerchief. There was a weariness to his eyes, a downward dip to his normally straight lips. He looked done in.
"Draco, you okay?" Harry asked, pushing to his feet to lurch to the man's side.
"Yeah… just, don't take so much, okay." He gave Harry an apologetic look and Harry's eyes grew large in realisation. Realisation of what Draco had done for him, of what power the orb had grown into.
Harry reached up and brushed at the back of his neck. "You gave me your strength again." He felt like such a leech.
"Well, we're still connected. I felt it prudent to leave a channel open between us in case of such… incidents." He lifted the box to prove his point. Harry stepped away from it, hands behind his back. "Let's get back before Scrimgeour figures out we took his toy. Then we can destroy the entire fucking thing… and get on with our lives," Draco said with a sharp look in his eyes, a look that held determination. Then his features softened, a smile played at the edges of his lips. Harry felt his skin tingle at the look and he couldn't stop the smile that formed.
"Yes. Let's go."
He reached out a hand and drew Draco close to him, and they popped out of existence.
~~~
A lone figure stepped out from behind a door open just a crack. His hair hung in clumps and a crop of stubble sprouted over his face. His unsheathed wand glowed slightly from the recent tracking charm he'd just cast.
"Yes." His strained voice barely formed the words. "Lead me to the rest of it, Potter. Lead me to my Staff."
~~~
The assembled coven and guests aligned themselves along the edge of the large protection circle. Positioned in the centre were the three artefact pieces locked within the blood basalt cage, a black monolith, its presence looming over them. Huge pillar candles provided scant illumination, washing the room in a sickly green light.
Dressed all in white robes Apis, Wolfwood, and Alissa, as well as nine other elders of the coven, waited until the midnight hour slipped into place. Their hoods were draped over their bowed heads, hiding their faces. Even the kid was wearing robes. Their feet planted on the circle's rim, the twelve waited, the room full of expectancy, even the air had a heavy feel to it. Heavy with hope, heavy with dread. Harry stood amongst them, ready to lend his strength to stabilise the ritual if necessary, Sirius by his side. Popicon, Remus and Draco were stationed back a step with the rest of the witches and wizards, on magical stand-by.
Harry looked over at Sirius, who stared towards the centre of the circle. Some focused thing in his gut told him this might be the last opportunity he would have to examine Sirius, his godfather, a guiding light for too few years. His eyes grew watery as he looked upon that strong man who had gone through so much, and he wished in vain that he could give him more time and more happiness. It was useless; he had no such power. Instead he did what he could; he reached out and grabbed his godfather's hand.
Startled, Sirius looked over at him, his head cocked at an angle so akin to Padfoot that Harry couldn't contain his smile. Sirius smiled back, so sure and full of effortless poise. Harry loved that about him.
Neither man spoke, but as the seconds danced from one instant to the next they continued holding hands and smiling at each other as if their mere existence was something to cherish and delight in, and it was.
And then it was time.
Apis began to chant, and as the sanctuary of peace the two men had conjured faded, they dropped their hands and turned to face the stone box.
Latin flowed from Apis' lips with all the power of lava and fire. The witch's voice burned, echoed through the building, and Harry suppressed an instinct to smash his hands over his ears to drown out the deep reverberations. A few others didn't. Remus flinched at the edge of Harry's peripheral vision. Sirius stood stoic, unmoving, eyes only on the artefact awaiting its destruction.
The end was near; Harry could handle the pain of these words for the freedom he could sense waiting for them all.
~~~
Fifteen of his most powerful servants stood outside of the large building buried under feet of snow. The sky was cloudy and dark, a starless abyss above, and the wind lashed across the open fields of white.
His orb was trapped, separated from him. He couldn't feel it anymore. Without its support, Scrimgeour felt weak, a hollow man. All he knew was that he had to get it back, had to rescue his beautiful sun, to keep it safe, keep it with him always.
He studied his servants, none met his eyes. "Shacklebolt." The tall man turned towards him, his furtive eyes meeting Scrimgeour's, and flinched. "Come here," Scrimgeour ordered around his thick tongue. He thought he'd bit into it, as swollen as it was, but he felt no pain and tasted no blood. Numb. All he felt was numb without his orb.
Speech frustrated him, that his words slipped together and his mouth felt watery was somehow insulting. When he was with the orb he had no need for verbal communication, he had no need for anything, and now that his shiniest jewel had been taken and he had to rescue it from destruction, he needed those skills long ago sacrificed.
"Shacklebolt." Shacklebolt looked upon Scrimgeour with disgust, his nose scrunched by a badly disguised frown. But there was also a fearful glint to Shacklebolt's eye, appeasing some of Scrimgeour's annoyance. He swallowed a pool of saliva, tasting sharp and metallic. There might be blood there, he wasn't certain. Maybe it was bile. "Take half the men 'round back; tear the wall down if you have to. The rest will follow me through the front. Do you understand?"
Shacklebolt nodded, but didn't speak.
"Do you comply?" Scrimgeour demanded.
"Yes, sir. I will do as you command." The Auror's eyes shifted away after he assured his allegiance, eyeing the weak glow of the moon behind the thick clouds.
Scrimgeour had noticed the signs as well; a storm was on the way. A tingle of electricity skated through the air; every particle was charged.
"Good. Then go." Shacklebolt nodded, then turned, and with a gesture gathered seven men with him. Together they trudged through the snow, disappearing around the edge of the building. The others gathered around Scrimgeour, ready for his next command.
Yes, indeed, a storm was brewing.
~~~
Arms raised high overhead, Harry followed the actions of the other participants swaddled in white. He didn't know all of the chants, but he could certainly follow obvious movements as easily as any toddler could play Patty Cake.
The cage containing the artefact now glowed a deep purple, exuding power and hate and a sentience that Harry found immensely creepy. It wasn't right or natural. Harry raised his arms again, pushing out his power to aid the spell and give strength to the men and women surrounding him.
Everyone was focused on the heart of their circle, on the box and the power of Apis' words. A low whine began rising in the air; it played just below the normal level of hearing, but somehow he could sense it, like a dog whistle, just beyond reach. The purple glow swelled and pulsed; Harry stared at it as churning butterflies filled his gut.
The glow pulsed, deepened, thrummed with that inaudible sound, until Apis crumbled to the floor.
"Oh my God!" cried one woman as witches and wizards began to collapse. Everyone scanned the warehouse. They barked questions about their leader and about what was going on, the urgency of their ritual forgotten without any form of leadership. Then from the chaos stepped an alien thing, almost oozing up to them with its awkward pace, a thing of repulsion that caused Harry to swallow hard to keep his stomach contents intact.
"Stop this, now," the figure ordered. His hair had fallen out from grey skin and his clothing, now filthy and tattered, barely held onto his frame; he looked like a child in giant's robes. His mouth had sunk, and blood and spittle drooled from the corner of it. The thing was Scrimgeour, but a Scrimgeour who had been exsanguinated of everything that made him an independent man.
Harry turned to face the Minister of Magic, but Draco stalled him with a word. "Harry, you need to help finish this. Let the rest of us deal with him." Harry nodded, breathing quick and shallow and turned back to the circle.
"We need to finish this spell. Whoever is next to lead, do it now!" he ordered. Already, Wolfwood had begun to chant, causing the fading purple glow to shine again.
"Protect Wolfwood!" Harry ordered to the overseers, and with overwhelming anxiety for his friends he cut himself off from his outside senses and focused only on the spell, on destroying the evil of the Quetzalcoatl Staff.
~~~
Remus' ears rung with the thrumming and throbbing, and he thought he might go deaf by the end of it all. Or mad. But it continued on like an endless river, and all he could do was stuff bits of cotton into his ears and pray the medi-wizards could heal spell damage to the delicate bones within. Harry stood on the edge with Sirius at his elbow. Remus knew that their moment had gone, understood the temporary nature of it, but he couldn't be blamed for wanting more, for feeling like he deserved more.
He spotted Draco, whose eyes were on Harry. Snorting, Remus categorised themselves as groupies, watching and waiting and standing on the sidelines. Merlin, he couldn't wait for this to be over. For the anxiety of his dreams to stop undermining the foundation of his confidence.
But then the piercing noise suddenly ceased and Remus saw that Apis had fallen. He stared in shock like an oaf, just stared like nothing else was happening in the world, wondering What the hell? Then he saw them. A group of men and women swarmed into the room, wands raised. One man, a tall, black man that Remus knew quite well, stood near the back of the room and his face was contorted in disgust and hatred.
When had they snuck in?
"Kingsley?" Remus mumbled the name in confusion.
Everyone milled about, lost without Apis' chant, then a man… a monster stepped forward and spoke, but Remus could understand nothing thanks to his aching ears and the slurred mess of words.
He shared a confused instant with Draco, but then Harry called out to the group.
"We need to finish this spell. Whoever is next to lead, do it now!" His words held power and command. "Protect Wolfwood!" he cried when Wolfwood had begun the spell of power. Everyone jumped to action. Remus understood; he launched himself at the nearest intruder.
He recognized this woman and cast a stunner right at her torso. She was an Auror that Harry had worked with. Agent Castile, he thought. Even as he prepared another spell to disarm the Auror, Remus filed through everything he knew about the Agent. A good woman with a family and ten years on the corps. "Drop it, Castile!" he screamed.
"I can't," wailed Castile, a sob hitching her voice. "Just kill me." Remus took a step back, his heart lurching in his chest. "Just do it," she begged, her face pale and contorted with effort. "We can't stop! Avada Kadavra!" The killing curse raced towards Remus, off centre enough that he darted away just in time. Holy hell.
"Draco," he called out to the other man.
"I know!" Draco cried, his voice shrill. "Back to back!" Remus turned, shuffling two steps back before he bumped into Draco. Standing with their backs together, they faced outward, protecting their blind spots.
It was mayhem. Ally after ally fell under the unexpected attack even as Draco cast his own spells in return. It became increasingly obvious that these wizards and witches of the Yukon had not recently emerged from a war and had little to no duelling experience. He fervently wished that Harry could join in the melee, could step forward and save the day like he did so many years ago on that rain soaked hill.
He cast another stunner, flashing red through the air.
~~~
Sweat dripped from Harry's brow, slipping along his hairline, down his spine, soaking into the waistband of his trousers. Dark patches spread along his pits and he swore his testicles were cowering up inside his abdomen.
Like a raging geyser, Harry's magical energy surged from him forming the structure of the spell that Wolfwood chanted. Over-stimulated, his nerves felt shredded. Though the men and women of the coven fought valiantly, curses zipping through the warehouse in skewed trajectories towards the invaders, Harry watched stoically as one-by-one they were overcome. The teenage boy struggled to entangle a man Harry recognized from the Ministry, only to trip on his robes and be Stupefied in his carelessness. Another woman charmed one man to float into the air and was sliced apart from a curse she'd never seen coming. Like dominoes, they fell; bodies piled up. Blood coloured sections of the floor as the green candlelight flickered in air the currents stirred by falling bodies.
Protect Wolfwood, Harry repeated over and over in his head. This had to end here, no matter the deadly cost.
Popicon flicked off stunner after stunner and Harry had a new-found respect for the researcher. A sparkle crackled across Popicon's body each time a spell slammed into his frame, pushing him back, but the man continued to hold ground.
Their defences were so pitiful, so few of the coven still stood against the handful of Scrimgeour's men. Wolfwood's chant stumbled and Harry looked to the man, the prone form of the high priestess at his feet. His wand was raised to deflect a curse, and Harry cried out, "Protego!" surrounding all three in a shimmery shield reminiscent of hot, dry days. It was only a bit of a spell, but still he could feel the spell's demand guzzle down his remaining energy.
A man stumbled towards Harry, his mouth moving but no words rose over the racket of the fighting. Harry watched him as he lifted his wand, and prepared to disarm him the moment he took a breath for his next spell, but then the man went still, upright and frozen and an aura of white glowed from him before he slumped to the ground, revealing Sirius standing behind him.
Relief washed through Harry, his clenched muscles relaxed enough that he could smile at the roguish man. Then came Remus, followed by Draco, all of them supporting him, manoeuvring themselves to face outward, spokes of a wheel with Harry and Wolfwood the hub at the centre. They stood together, protecting each other as Scrimgeour's men bore down upon them. Harry could hear Sirius cackling in the charged air, "Die you fuckers!" and Harry was forced back to that night in the Ministry, Sirius' valour, his defiance of death.
"Erumpo!"
The spell shot from the far side, yellow and heavy in the air. It slammed into the blood basalt and the cage shattered sending little shards of stone airborne. A shard hurtling through the air pierced through his shield and gashed Harry's cheek. The blood trickled down his face, mixing with his sweat of fear and exertion.
The box.
"No!" Harry's concentration was shot as he saw the artefacts tumble to the floor and slowly, as if by magnetic force, begin to slide towards each other.
Before he could even act that familiar, overwhelming power tackled him. He bore down on that groping intrusion inside his soul, and dug his fingernails into his palm, focusing on the pain.
"Shit," he cried out, angry and desperate. Remus and Draco glanced at him. With robotic stiffness to his movements, Harry gestured towards the cage. Sirius was already on the move.
Another hex barrelled down on Harry, and he couldn't think, couldn't stop and remember what he had to do as the hungry power lapped at his senses, his mind. He knew it would be too late and was shocked that this was how it would end. All of his struggles, his hard work, all of it like brittle bones in the desert. Then a silver tingle spread across his skin and the hex fizzled on impact. He recognised the feel of Draco's magic, a part of him remaining as the tiny gold dragon. Two of the attackers sprinted towards their tight group, and Remus threw his fist into one man's face, while Draco flipped the other over with a sharp, "Mobilicorpus."
"Harry, I think it's time for your dazzling luck to kick in. I'm a bit shy on ideas. Any plans?" Remus yelled as he fought the madman pressing before him, the man's nose a fountain of blood.
Remus wasn't without his own wounds; Harry noticed a trickle slipping from his ear and a gash across his neck. They didn't slow him down, though, as Remus sliced his wand through the air, throwing his opponent across the room.
"Remus." All three men turned to see Kingsley nearby. "Run… get away." Their friend slowly raised his wand. It shook in his grip even as Kingsley continued to speak. "Run, Remus," he begged as a ball of silvery light bubbled from the tip of his wand.
"Remus!" Draco called out, reaching to pull Remus away even as the silver erupted all over the two men. Wand lifted, Harry watched in horror as Remus dropped to the floor, screaming in pain. Draco, thrashing to wipe the silver ooze off himself, twisted this way and that.
"Stupify," Popicon yelled and Kingsley fell. But it was too late. Remus writhed on the ground, the air pierced with his scream and the acrid scent of his fear.
Everything was out of control; everything had gone tits up.
Sirius stood beside the artefacts, his hands gripped into fists as his shadowed eyes darted from Remus thrashing on the floor to the artefact, slowing coming together. A look of complete helplessness scrunched up his face. Taking one step towards them, Sirius reached out to his friend, his lover, a cry so full of anger and desperation bursting from his lips.
"Sirius," Harry cried urgently. "Can you stop the Staff?"
Eyes brimming, Sirius nodded.
"Sirius, we'll help Remus. Stop the Staff! Please!" Harry wanted to run to him, to stand by him, but he knew that he'd never escape that deadly hold. The Staff wanted Harry and Harry's own fear of that kept him away, fear of losing himself, fear of what the Staff would accomplish if Harry was its slave. Draco was on his knees, slick with silver but no longer wiping at it, instead sucking the substance off Remus with his wand.
A ripple crossed Sirius' face and all of his torment and concern vanished. He gave one longing look at Remus, then nodded sadly at Harry. Turning away, he walked towards the Dark artefact.
"Harry," Draco called.
Harry watched Sirius, an oddly bereft feeling in his chest as Sirius walked away.
"Remus. He's- He's changing! Like back in the Labyrinth." Draco sounded frantic and Harry finally turned away from Sirius, his heart understanding more than his mind would allow, and looked to Remus.
He was mid-transformation: snout lengthening, appendages twisting, hair sprouting over his entire body. The spell residue had been cleaned off by Draco, but Remus still whinged in anguish.
And in the background, Wolfwood continued his chant; the power of the spell electrified the air, roiling it into tempest.
"Heh. Weakling wizards." The laughter and slurred words were casually tossed at the men as a walking corpse once known as Scrimgeour stumbled towards the artefact. Harry spared him a glance and icy horror swept over him at the monster the Minister had become.
Moony growled, the wolf slipping through Remus' firm control, shocking Harry at the utterly feral sound. Moony got to his feet, and began to stalk the man fuelled by dark powers and stolen lives. Scrimgeour stumbled towards Sirius, who'd just reached the remains of the stone cage. Moony growled and lunged at Scrimgeour, ignoring Harry and Draco. Harry realized why he felt no fear from the werewolf, Moony was protecting them.
But as Moony rounded on Scrimgeour, hunting him like prey, Draco stiffened and that solid support within Harry crumbled.
"Draco?"
Draco gained his feet and with jerking motions walked towards the Staff that shivered as it struggled against Harry and the coven's power to subdue it. Sirius kicked the wicked pieces apart, but they barely separated as if pasted to the floor.
As Harry watched Draco, clueless and overwhelmed, he could still hear Wolfwood chanting, could still feel the power as it swirled around the room preparing to rend the artefact apart forever. Five of the original twelve still stood on the circle's perimeter with a few others having taken the position of a fallen chanter. Many of the invaders had been stunned by his friends and Popicon, the coven members only slowing down the adversary. Wolfwood just needed more time, and time was fast becoming scarce.
"Draco," Harry called. Ignoring him, Draco closed on the orb, the dwindling crowd of witches and wizards letting him pass as they focused on defending themselves and Wolfwood. "Draco, what the fuck?"
Making his decision, Harry abandoned the edge of the circle, leaving behind the protective shield he'd cast over himself, Wolfwood and Apis, and followed after Draco. A part of Harry wanted to scream and attack every single enemy in this room, to curse and kick, let his anger flood and flow around him, but he couldn't let go… he couldn't lose his control and undermine the spell.
The part that worried Harry the most was that the support that had continually flowed from Draco since the Cathedral of Bones was gone. It had become a permanent presence that Harry simply accepted until it was no longer there. He hated its absence, and what it might mean that it had gone missing.
Draco's long legs took him stride by stride towards the three Staff pieces, all twitching like Brownian motion kept them in action. Sirius stared down at the pieces, an empty expression upon his face. He barely glanced up in time to see Draco lurch for the orb.
"Stop him, Harry!"
Spurred into action, Harry dove through the air and slammed into Draco, wrapping his arms around his friend, pulling him to the ground.
"Draco, Draco. Please, love. Draco," Harry mumbled over and over as blank eyes stared towards the swirling orb, just beyond his fingertips. "Draco." Harry rained kisses down upon his face, oblivious to the action around him as he pressed his weight down against Draco's struggles.
He scrambled for that golden dragon, that shard of Draco still within him, and found it. He squeezed it, the action reminding him so much of his mental arts lessons, and then followed the string through his own soul back to Draco's.
There, he thought. There is Draco, I can feel him. So strong. "You're so strong, Draco. Fight this thing. I'm here." He poured his energy into Draco as he held and rocked him, constantly murmuring into his ear.
It felt like he was in another world. This wasn't his reality, it couldn't be his here. Spells zinged by and people fell and chants were screamed into the night air, and still Harry sat there with Draco in his arms, rocking him, feeding him his strength.
The magic of the chant swirled through the warehouse, catching Harry's hair, sparking along the edge of his teeth. He tasted iron and sulphur.
In the distance, Moony stalked Scrimgeour, blocking his attempts to reach the pieces of the Staff. Sirius took strained steps towards the pieces, now edging together in jerking bouts of movement. Though he didn't have far to go, his progress was slow, his strides long like he'd been caught in a freeze hex. Scrimgeour screached like a tortured beast, swamping the ritual in anger and frustration. Again, the hollow man screamed
Harry watched as Sirius shimmered, losing his solidity, and laid himself over the artefact pieces, reaching his arm for the wayward orb. His shimmer brightened with a blinding flash and in a backlash of power the entire room blacked out. Wolfwood incanted the final words, deep, pregnant with the power of negation. A moment of silence. Another. And then Moony howled, forlorn and full of longing and loss. He howled and howled, and Harry knew that when the lights came up again, Sirius would be gone.
"Lumos," someone shouted, filling a tiny bubble of the room with warm wandlight and Harry's prediction was true. Sirius, and the Staff pieces, were gone.
"No!" came another cry, this one slurred and swimming in spit. "Not the orb. My Staff!" But then the cries were lost under a bubble of a sigh and the room settled once again into silence.
Nobody moved and all Harry could do was look on at the empty place where Sirius should have stood, Draco, weak and shuddering, held tight in his arms.
Finally, more wands lit the darkened room. Harry tore his attention away from the empty centre of the circle, turning towards where he last heard Scrimgeour's cry. Moony was sitting there, muzzle stained red and Scrimgeour's body prone at his feet. Snout aimed towards the air, Moony howled again.
Chapter 25
Posted Chapters
If you want to start from the beginning, start at It Always Rains Chapter 1
Title: It Always Rains
Author: winnett
Pairing/Characters: Harry/Draco, Remus/Sirius
Rating: PG-R
Genre: Adventure/Romance/Mystery
Summary: Dark conspiracies, unlikely friendships and the endless weeping of the sky. Harry must follow a trail of clues to not only save his friend, but perhaps even the British wizarding world.
Warnings: Male/male sexual situations.
Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based in the world created by J.K.Rowling. They aren't mine and I make no money from them. I just like to let them out to play.
Author's notes: Thanks so much to my betas KF and megyal who agreed to help me polish up the last few chapters of this story! You rock! I couldn't do this without you.
Word count: Approximately 6,000
***********************************************************************
Chapter 24
"Son when you grow up, will you be the saviour of the broken,
The beaten and the damned?"
My Chemical Romance - Welcome to the Black Parade
A loud knock reverberated through the hollow, wooden door, rattling it on its hinges. "You guys up yet? Still shagging?" came the words loud and clear.
"Good morning, Wolfwood," Draco said cheerily as he peeled himself off of Harry. Harry grabbed his waist and pulled him back down for a kiss.
"Breakfast is in ten minutes. Don't miss it or you'll make Nancy cry," Wolfwood said and then footsteps faded away.
"Guess the privacy charms are down," Harry said, grinning up at Draco.
"Don't tell me… You didn't notice when they came down?" Draco asked in mock shock.
"I was kind of busy," he said and lunged for Draco's ear, sucking heavily on it as he rolled it between his teeth. Draco groaned; Harry'd quickly discovered Draco's ears and sucking were a mighty combination.
They wasted another few minutes before duty forced them out of bed. After charming away love bites and morning breath, they pulled on the same clothes from yesterday.
Remus sat at the long table with Sirius sitting next to him. Sirius laughing and talking and eating food and completely, entirely corporeal.
Harry's step faltered.
"Sirius!" Harry cried out. When Sirius was a ghost, that phantom being, Harry didn't really think of it as Sirius, just a diluted counterfeit, but now this laughing man, barking at some joke someone must have said, was real. "Sirius!"
Harry ran to him.
"Harry!" Sirius stood so quickly, his chair teetered haphazardly on two legs before he enveloped Harry in a bear hug. "Can you believe this?" The two men embraced and slapped each other's backs; ages came and passed before they pulled apart, smiling like fools.
"You certainly are an odd group," Wolfwood said. "I think there is little about you now that would shock me." He looked at them with heavy eyes, and Harry doubted this wizard would be surprised if a dodo bird paraded itself before him in a top hat.
"How are you whole?" Harry asked, then realized how callous he sounded. "I mean…"
Sirius 'thunked' him on the back again with his right arm and gripped him tight with the other. "Oh come now." He shook his head, a bright grin proving no insult. "Don't worry about it. And I think I'm whole because of this building." He looked around the warehouse. "It's thrumming with magic. It must be sustaining me."
A moment of silence settled upon the room, Harry staring at Sirius, Sirius glowing with life, and finally Wolfwood ordered them to sit and eat, and without complaint they did so.
The table wasn't overly burdened by food, and though Harry didn't want to seem like an uncultured pig, the hash browns were so damned good, not to mention the waffles slathered with cream and strawberries, that he found himself sheepishly returning for seconds.
"So," Draco said, drawing attention away from Harry's bottomless stomach. "How long has this coven been at this location?"
The crowd delivered a truncated history of the coven--in short snippets and interjections-that had been around for centuries with the secrets and knowledge passed from the elders to the initiates over the years. Harry was astounded to hear about such a closed society. Britain's Statute of Secrecy held nothing on this coven's near fanatical hold on their secrets. He was surprised they'd even let him and his friends in.
"Mr. Potter… Harry," the youngest male of the group interrupted. "I know we aren't supposed to ask, but how did you defeat that Dark wizard in England? Even us isolated wizards up here heard about him. What was his name? Vandermar? Baltarmurt? Something like that?"
The silence iced over the previously jovial breakfasting. Half the coven scowled at their member even as they glanced over at Harry in poorly veiled curiosity.
Harry shifted in his seat, as usual uncomfortable under the gaze of so many people. "I didn't do it alone," he mumbled into his glass of orange juice. He pondered the juice, blocking out the mumblings of the diners. Its colour practically glowed and it tasted too sweet, but he guessed it wasn't bad.
"So," a middle aged woman said, "you must be rather powerful to have taken on so much."
Harry knocked his glass trying to set it down on the table; tendons ridged along the flat surface of the back of his hand. "It wasn't just me." His voice was loud in his ears. "I'm nothing special. Other people did far more than me; I was just in the wrong prophecy at the wrong time and…" Harry stopped, his initial, confused fury shrinking under the eyes of a score of people.
"But you are powerful, we can all tell. You and your friends. You're all… mighty or something," said the youth with a cocksure grin. Something about him reminded him of a younger Sirius, and so he looked at his godfather for comparison. Sirius only watched Harry with eyebrows raised.
Draco cleared his throat, drawing Harry's attention. He exchanged a look with Harry then with the people around the table.
"We ran the gauntlet through hell and are here to tell the tale. That makes us mighty," Draco explained succinctly.
~~~
"The ritual is prepared. All we require is the final puzzle piece and we shall destroy the Dark artefact forthwith. Are you ready?" asked Apis, her hands gripped tight before her. Harry rolled his eyes, Draco smirked, and Remus and Sirius shared amusing cow-eyed gazes at each other when they thought nobody was looking.
Apparently Remus had made his decision and Harry couldn't be happier. He only wished them as much time as possible, not dwelling on when this miracle might end.
"Yes, we are," he told the witch. "Draco and I will return to England, get the orb, and Apparate back here immediately. Are you sure this little box will control it?" Harry lifted the ten by ten inch box of blood basalt in his hand. "The orb is the brains of the operation." It had the same spells as the larger cabinet, but he still didn't have complete faith in its power to control the most powerful well of magic he'd ever felt.
Wolfwood snorted, his twitching beard framing the man's frown. "Yes, Mr. Potter. Do you doubt us?" Harry looked into those eyes, piercing and astute, threatening physical hell if such a suggestion were claimed.
"No, sir." Harry shook his head. "I have full faith in your stone box. We'll just be going now," he said and grabbed Draco's hand as they left for the Apparition zone.
Even with all of the rushing around and planning and dealing with a room full of strangers, Harry still found he couldn’t take his eyes from Draco for too long. He seemed to seek out the blond wizard like a child seeking out rich chocolate or a prince seeking his… umm, well not necessarily princess. But he felt drawn to Draco, and he cherished this new and encompassing feeling.
He squeezed Draco's hand, who gripped at his in return and with a warm smile from his lover, they Apparated to Our Holy Weeper, asleep in the heart of night.
There was little security at the church and so close to midnight that nobody was around. The two men slipped in with simple spells until they stood above the sanctum below.
As before, tendrils of power from the orb clutched at Harry, seeping up from its buried sanctuary beneath the flagstones of the church floor. Its power had inundated even more of the little parish than it had just a few nights ago and Harry wondered at the strength of it.
His stomach rolled over as he felt that power lunge towards him, attempting to burrow into him like ravenous larva. Bile burned the back of his throat.
"Draco, we need to hurry," he groaned out, desperately attempting to occlude his mind, cut off any pathway that the orb might be forging to control him. It tickled his brain and dug in, with claws, with teeth, with barbed hooks. Harry felt each cut, each pierce. "Draco!" As panic snuffed all sense, the air zinged with magical energy. Small items rose into the air, candle chandeliers began to sway in a non-existent breeze.
"Harry. Harry, I'm here. Come on, hang in there. Remember the wall." A wall? Harry grasped on this word like a truth amidst lies. "Just sit here and remember the stone wall. I'll be right back."
A tight feeling within him, a squeeze on his heart, shocked Harry from his frenzy. With little grace, he flopped against the church wall and slid his body to the floor, his arms loose at his sides as he pressed his back against the wood panelling. With everything muddled-his senses, his brain-he felt uncomfortably detached. He blinked and watched as Draco descended, a blurry form a million miles away. He was cold, cold and alone in this vast void. He might as well give it up. Silence cloaked him and he felt the world's weight of sorrow pressing all around him. But, there was something within him, a strong hold on his heart, supporting him from the inside. And as he struggled to keep his head afloat, eyes squeezing away the cloudy haze, Harry felt the orb's power severed.
He fell to the floor in relief, sucking in lungfuls of clear, beautiful air.
"Got it," Draco called out as he appeared from the sanctum, stone box in his hands and brow glistening with sweat. He drabbed at his forehead with a silk handkerchief. There was a weariness to his eyes, a downward dip to his normally straight lips. He looked done in.
"Draco, you okay?" Harry asked, pushing to his feet to lurch to the man's side.
"Yeah… just, don't take so much, okay." He gave Harry an apologetic look and Harry's eyes grew large in realisation. Realisation of what Draco had done for him, of what power the orb had grown into.
Harry reached up and brushed at the back of his neck. "You gave me your strength again." He felt like such a leech.
"Well, we're still connected. I felt it prudent to leave a channel open between us in case of such… incidents." He lifted the box to prove his point. Harry stepped away from it, hands behind his back. "Let's get back before Scrimgeour figures out we took his toy. Then we can destroy the entire fucking thing… and get on with our lives," Draco said with a sharp look in his eyes, a look that held determination. Then his features softened, a smile played at the edges of his lips. Harry felt his skin tingle at the look and he couldn't stop the smile that formed.
"Yes. Let's go."
He reached out a hand and drew Draco close to him, and they popped out of existence.
~~~
A lone figure stepped out from behind a door open just a crack. His hair hung in clumps and a crop of stubble sprouted over his face. His unsheathed wand glowed slightly from the recent tracking charm he'd just cast.
"Yes." His strained voice barely formed the words. "Lead me to the rest of it, Potter. Lead me to my Staff."
~~~
The assembled coven and guests aligned themselves along the edge of the large protection circle. Positioned in the centre were the three artefact pieces locked within the blood basalt cage, a black monolith, its presence looming over them. Huge pillar candles provided scant illumination, washing the room in a sickly green light.
Dressed all in white robes Apis, Wolfwood, and Alissa, as well as nine other elders of the coven, waited until the midnight hour slipped into place. Their hoods were draped over their bowed heads, hiding their faces. Even the kid was wearing robes. Their feet planted on the circle's rim, the twelve waited, the room full of expectancy, even the air had a heavy feel to it. Heavy with hope, heavy with dread. Harry stood amongst them, ready to lend his strength to stabilise the ritual if necessary, Sirius by his side. Popicon, Remus and Draco were stationed back a step with the rest of the witches and wizards, on magical stand-by.
Harry looked over at Sirius, who stared towards the centre of the circle. Some focused thing in his gut told him this might be the last opportunity he would have to examine Sirius, his godfather, a guiding light for too few years. His eyes grew watery as he looked upon that strong man who had gone through so much, and he wished in vain that he could give him more time and more happiness. It was useless; he had no such power. Instead he did what he could; he reached out and grabbed his godfather's hand.
Startled, Sirius looked over at him, his head cocked at an angle so akin to Padfoot that Harry couldn't contain his smile. Sirius smiled back, so sure and full of effortless poise. Harry loved that about him.
Neither man spoke, but as the seconds danced from one instant to the next they continued holding hands and smiling at each other as if their mere existence was something to cherish and delight in, and it was.
And then it was time.
Apis began to chant, and as the sanctuary of peace the two men had conjured faded, they dropped their hands and turned to face the stone box.
Latin flowed from Apis' lips with all the power of lava and fire. The witch's voice burned, echoed through the building, and Harry suppressed an instinct to smash his hands over his ears to drown out the deep reverberations. A few others didn't. Remus flinched at the edge of Harry's peripheral vision. Sirius stood stoic, unmoving, eyes only on the artefact awaiting its destruction.
The end was near; Harry could handle the pain of these words for the freedom he could sense waiting for them all.
~~~
Fifteen of his most powerful servants stood outside of the large building buried under feet of snow. The sky was cloudy and dark, a starless abyss above, and the wind lashed across the open fields of white.
His orb was trapped, separated from him. He couldn't feel it anymore. Without its support, Scrimgeour felt weak, a hollow man. All he knew was that he had to get it back, had to rescue his beautiful sun, to keep it safe, keep it with him always.
He studied his servants, none met his eyes. "Shacklebolt." The tall man turned towards him, his furtive eyes meeting Scrimgeour's, and flinched. "Come here," Scrimgeour ordered around his thick tongue. He thought he'd bit into it, as swollen as it was, but he felt no pain and tasted no blood. Numb. All he felt was numb without his orb.
Speech frustrated him, that his words slipped together and his mouth felt watery was somehow insulting. When he was with the orb he had no need for verbal communication, he had no need for anything, and now that his shiniest jewel had been taken and he had to rescue it from destruction, he needed those skills long ago sacrificed.
"Shacklebolt." Shacklebolt looked upon Scrimgeour with disgust, his nose scrunched by a badly disguised frown. But there was also a fearful glint to Shacklebolt's eye, appeasing some of Scrimgeour's annoyance. He swallowed a pool of saliva, tasting sharp and metallic. There might be blood there, he wasn't certain. Maybe it was bile. "Take half the men 'round back; tear the wall down if you have to. The rest will follow me through the front. Do you understand?"
Shacklebolt nodded, but didn't speak.
"Do you comply?" Scrimgeour demanded.
"Yes, sir. I will do as you command." The Auror's eyes shifted away after he assured his allegiance, eyeing the weak glow of the moon behind the thick clouds.
Scrimgeour had noticed the signs as well; a storm was on the way. A tingle of electricity skated through the air; every particle was charged.
"Good. Then go." Shacklebolt nodded, then turned, and with a gesture gathered seven men with him. Together they trudged through the snow, disappearing around the edge of the building. The others gathered around Scrimgeour, ready for his next command.
Yes, indeed, a storm was brewing.
~~~
Arms raised high overhead, Harry followed the actions of the other participants swaddled in white. He didn't know all of the chants, but he could certainly follow obvious movements as easily as any toddler could play Patty Cake.
The cage containing the artefact now glowed a deep purple, exuding power and hate and a sentience that Harry found immensely creepy. It wasn't right or natural. Harry raised his arms again, pushing out his power to aid the spell and give strength to the men and women surrounding him.
Everyone was focused on the heart of their circle, on the box and the power of Apis' words. A low whine began rising in the air; it played just below the normal level of hearing, but somehow he could sense it, like a dog whistle, just beyond reach. The purple glow swelled and pulsed; Harry stared at it as churning butterflies filled his gut.
The glow pulsed, deepened, thrummed with that inaudible sound, until Apis crumbled to the floor.
"Oh my God!" cried one woman as witches and wizards began to collapse. Everyone scanned the warehouse. They barked questions about their leader and about what was going on, the urgency of their ritual forgotten without any form of leadership. Then from the chaos stepped an alien thing, almost oozing up to them with its awkward pace, a thing of repulsion that caused Harry to swallow hard to keep his stomach contents intact.
"Stop this, now," the figure ordered. His hair had fallen out from grey skin and his clothing, now filthy and tattered, barely held onto his frame; he looked like a child in giant's robes. His mouth had sunk, and blood and spittle drooled from the corner of it. The thing was Scrimgeour, but a Scrimgeour who had been exsanguinated of everything that made him an independent man.
Harry turned to face the Minister of Magic, but Draco stalled him with a word. "Harry, you need to help finish this. Let the rest of us deal with him." Harry nodded, breathing quick and shallow and turned back to the circle.
"We need to finish this spell. Whoever is next to lead, do it now!" he ordered. Already, Wolfwood had begun to chant, causing the fading purple glow to shine again.
"Protect Wolfwood!" Harry ordered to the overseers, and with overwhelming anxiety for his friends he cut himself off from his outside senses and focused only on the spell, on destroying the evil of the Quetzalcoatl Staff.
~~~
Remus' ears rung with the thrumming and throbbing, and he thought he might go deaf by the end of it all. Or mad. But it continued on like an endless river, and all he could do was stuff bits of cotton into his ears and pray the medi-wizards could heal spell damage to the delicate bones within. Harry stood on the edge with Sirius at his elbow. Remus knew that their moment had gone, understood the temporary nature of it, but he couldn't be blamed for wanting more, for feeling like he deserved more.
He spotted Draco, whose eyes were on Harry. Snorting, Remus categorised themselves as groupies, watching and waiting and standing on the sidelines. Merlin, he couldn't wait for this to be over. For the anxiety of his dreams to stop undermining the foundation of his confidence.
But then the piercing noise suddenly ceased and Remus saw that Apis had fallen. He stared in shock like an oaf, just stared like nothing else was happening in the world, wondering What the hell? Then he saw them. A group of men and women swarmed into the room, wands raised. One man, a tall, black man that Remus knew quite well, stood near the back of the room and his face was contorted in disgust and hatred.
When had they snuck in?
"Kingsley?" Remus mumbled the name in confusion.
Everyone milled about, lost without Apis' chant, then a man… a monster stepped forward and spoke, but Remus could understand nothing thanks to his aching ears and the slurred mess of words.
He shared a confused instant with Draco, but then Harry called out to the group.
"We need to finish this spell. Whoever is next to lead, do it now!" His words held power and command. "Protect Wolfwood!" he cried when Wolfwood had begun the spell of power. Everyone jumped to action. Remus understood; he launched himself at the nearest intruder.
He recognized this woman and cast a stunner right at her torso. She was an Auror that Harry had worked with. Agent Castile, he thought. Even as he prepared another spell to disarm the Auror, Remus filed through everything he knew about the Agent. A good woman with a family and ten years on the corps. "Drop it, Castile!" he screamed.
"I can't," wailed Castile, a sob hitching her voice. "Just kill me." Remus took a step back, his heart lurching in his chest. "Just do it," she begged, her face pale and contorted with effort. "We can't stop! Avada Kadavra!" The killing curse raced towards Remus, off centre enough that he darted away just in time. Holy hell.
"Draco," he called out to the other man.
"I know!" Draco cried, his voice shrill. "Back to back!" Remus turned, shuffling two steps back before he bumped into Draco. Standing with their backs together, they faced outward, protecting their blind spots.
It was mayhem. Ally after ally fell under the unexpected attack even as Draco cast his own spells in return. It became increasingly obvious that these wizards and witches of the Yukon had not recently emerged from a war and had little to no duelling experience. He fervently wished that Harry could join in the melee, could step forward and save the day like he did so many years ago on that rain soaked hill.
He cast another stunner, flashing red through the air.
~~~
Sweat dripped from Harry's brow, slipping along his hairline, down his spine, soaking into the waistband of his trousers. Dark patches spread along his pits and he swore his testicles were cowering up inside his abdomen.
Like a raging geyser, Harry's magical energy surged from him forming the structure of the spell that Wolfwood chanted. Over-stimulated, his nerves felt shredded. Though the men and women of the coven fought valiantly, curses zipping through the warehouse in skewed trajectories towards the invaders, Harry watched stoically as one-by-one they were overcome. The teenage boy struggled to entangle a man Harry recognized from the Ministry, only to trip on his robes and be Stupefied in his carelessness. Another woman charmed one man to float into the air and was sliced apart from a curse she'd never seen coming. Like dominoes, they fell; bodies piled up. Blood coloured sections of the floor as the green candlelight flickered in air the currents stirred by falling bodies.
Protect Wolfwood, Harry repeated over and over in his head. This had to end here, no matter the deadly cost.
Popicon flicked off stunner after stunner and Harry had a new-found respect for the researcher. A sparkle crackled across Popicon's body each time a spell slammed into his frame, pushing him back, but the man continued to hold ground.
Their defences were so pitiful, so few of the coven still stood against the handful of Scrimgeour's men. Wolfwood's chant stumbled and Harry looked to the man, the prone form of the high priestess at his feet. His wand was raised to deflect a curse, and Harry cried out, "Protego!" surrounding all three in a shimmery shield reminiscent of hot, dry days. It was only a bit of a spell, but still he could feel the spell's demand guzzle down his remaining energy.
A man stumbled towards Harry, his mouth moving but no words rose over the racket of the fighting. Harry watched him as he lifted his wand, and prepared to disarm him the moment he took a breath for his next spell, but then the man went still, upright and frozen and an aura of white glowed from him before he slumped to the ground, revealing Sirius standing behind him.
Relief washed through Harry, his clenched muscles relaxed enough that he could smile at the roguish man. Then came Remus, followed by Draco, all of them supporting him, manoeuvring themselves to face outward, spokes of a wheel with Harry and Wolfwood the hub at the centre. They stood together, protecting each other as Scrimgeour's men bore down upon them. Harry could hear Sirius cackling in the charged air, "Die you fuckers!" and Harry was forced back to that night in the Ministry, Sirius' valour, his defiance of death.
"Erumpo!"
The spell shot from the far side, yellow and heavy in the air. It slammed into the blood basalt and the cage shattered sending little shards of stone airborne. A shard hurtling through the air pierced through his shield and gashed Harry's cheek. The blood trickled down his face, mixing with his sweat of fear and exertion.
The box.
"No!" Harry's concentration was shot as he saw the artefacts tumble to the floor and slowly, as if by magnetic force, begin to slide towards each other.
Before he could even act that familiar, overwhelming power tackled him. He bore down on that groping intrusion inside his soul, and dug his fingernails into his palm, focusing on the pain.
"Shit," he cried out, angry and desperate. Remus and Draco glanced at him. With robotic stiffness to his movements, Harry gestured towards the cage. Sirius was already on the move.
Another hex barrelled down on Harry, and he couldn't think, couldn't stop and remember what he had to do as the hungry power lapped at his senses, his mind. He knew it would be too late and was shocked that this was how it would end. All of his struggles, his hard work, all of it like brittle bones in the desert. Then a silver tingle spread across his skin and the hex fizzled on impact. He recognised the feel of Draco's magic, a part of him remaining as the tiny gold dragon. Two of the attackers sprinted towards their tight group, and Remus threw his fist into one man's face, while Draco flipped the other over with a sharp, "Mobilicorpus."
"Harry, I think it's time for your dazzling luck to kick in. I'm a bit shy on ideas. Any plans?" Remus yelled as he fought the madman pressing before him, the man's nose a fountain of blood.
Remus wasn't without his own wounds; Harry noticed a trickle slipping from his ear and a gash across his neck. They didn't slow him down, though, as Remus sliced his wand through the air, throwing his opponent across the room.
"Remus." All three men turned to see Kingsley nearby. "Run… get away." Their friend slowly raised his wand. It shook in his grip even as Kingsley continued to speak. "Run, Remus," he begged as a ball of silvery light bubbled from the tip of his wand.
"Remus!" Draco called out, reaching to pull Remus away even as the silver erupted all over the two men. Wand lifted, Harry watched in horror as Remus dropped to the floor, screaming in pain. Draco, thrashing to wipe the silver ooze off himself, twisted this way and that.
"Stupify," Popicon yelled and Kingsley fell. But it was too late. Remus writhed on the ground, the air pierced with his scream and the acrid scent of his fear.
Everything was out of control; everything had gone tits up.
Sirius stood beside the artefacts, his hands gripped into fists as his shadowed eyes darted from Remus thrashing on the floor to the artefact, slowing coming together. A look of complete helplessness scrunched up his face. Taking one step towards them, Sirius reached out to his friend, his lover, a cry so full of anger and desperation bursting from his lips.
"Sirius," Harry cried urgently. "Can you stop the Staff?"
Eyes brimming, Sirius nodded.
"Sirius, we'll help Remus. Stop the Staff! Please!" Harry wanted to run to him, to stand by him, but he knew that he'd never escape that deadly hold. The Staff wanted Harry and Harry's own fear of that kept him away, fear of losing himself, fear of what the Staff would accomplish if Harry was its slave. Draco was on his knees, slick with silver but no longer wiping at it, instead sucking the substance off Remus with his wand.
A ripple crossed Sirius' face and all of his torment and concern vanished. He gave one longing look at Remus, then nodded sadly at Harry. Turning away, he walked towards the Dark artefact.
"Harry," Draco called.
Harry watched Sirius, an oddly bereft feeling in his chest as Sirius walked away.
"Remus. He's- He's changing! Like back in the Labyrinth." Draco sounded frantic and Harry finally turned away from Sirius, his heart understanding more than his mind would allow, and looked to Remus.
He was mid-transformation: snout lengthening, appendages twisting, hair sprouting over his entire body. The spell residue had been cleaned off by Draco, but Remus still whinged in anguish.
And in the background, Wolfwood continued his chant; the power of the spell electrified the air, roiling it into tempest.
"Heh. Weakling wizards." The laughter and slurred words were casually tossed at the men as a walking corpse once known as Scrimgeour stumbled towards the artefact. Harry spared him a glance and icy horror swept over him at the monster the Minister had become.
Moony growled, the wolf slipping through Remus' firm control, shocking Harry at the utterly feral sound. Moony got to his feet, and began to stalk the man fuelled by dark powers and stolen lives. Scrimgeour stumbled towards Sirius, who'd just reached the remains of the stone cage. Moony growled and lunged at Scrimgeour, ignoring Harry and Draco. Harry realized why he felt no fear from the werewolf, Moony was protecting them.
But as Moony rounded on Scrimgeour, hunting him like prey, Draco stiffened and that solid support within Harry crumbled.
"Draco?"
Draco gained his feet and with jerking motions walked towards the Staff that shivered as it struggled against Harry and the coven's power to subdue it. Sirius kicked the wicked pieces apart, but they barely separated as if pasted to the floor.
As Harry watched Draco, clueless and overwhelmed, he could still hear Wolfwood chanting, could still feel the power as it swirled around the room preparing to rend the artefact apart forever. Five of the original twelve still stood on the circle's perimeter with a few others having taken the position of a fallen chanter. Many of the invaders had been stunned by his friends and Popicon, the coven members only slowing down the adversary. Wolfwood just needed more time, and time was fast becoming scarce.
"Draco," Harry called. Ignoring him, Draco closed on the orb, the dwindling crowd of witches and wizards letting him pass as they focused on defending themselves and Wolfwood. "Draco, what the fuck?"
Making his decision, Harry abandoned the edge of the circle, leaving behind the protective shield he'd cast over himself, Wolfwood and Apis, and followed after Draco. A part of Harry wanted to scream and attack every single enemy in this room, to curse and kick, let his anger flood and flow around him, but he couldn't let go… he couldn't lose his control and undermine the spell.
The part that worried Harry the most was that the support that had continually flowed from Draco since the Cathedral of Bones was gone. It had become a permanent presence that Harry simply accepted until it was no longer there. He hated its absence, and what it might mean that it had gone missing.
Draco's long legs took him stride by stride towards the three Staff pieces, all twitching like Brownian motion kept them in action. Sirius stared down at the pieces, an empty expression upon his face. He barely glanced up in time to see Draco lurch for the orb.
"Stop him, Harry!"
Spurred into action, Harry dove through the air and slammed into Draco, wrapping his arms around his friend, pulling him to the ground.
"Draco, Draco. Please, love. Draco," Harry mumbled over and over as blank eyes stared towards the swirling orb, just beyond his fingertips. "Draco." Harry rained kisses down upon his face, oblivious to the action around him as he pressed his weight down against Draco's struggles.
He scrambled for that golden dragon, that shard of Draco still within him, and found it. He squeezed it, the action reminding him so much of his mental arts lessons, and then followed the string through his own soul back to Draco's.
There, he thought. There is Draco, I can feel him. So strong. "You're so strong, Draco. Fight this thing. I'm here." He poured his energy into Draco as he held and rocked him, constantly murmuring into his ear.
It felt like he was in another world. This wasn't his reality, it couldn't be his here. Spells zinged by and people fell and chants were screamed into the night air, and still Harry sat there with Draco in his arms, rocking him, feeding him his strength.
The magic of the chant swirled through the warehouse, catching Harry's hair, sparking along the edge of his teeth. He tasted iron and sulphur.
In the distance, Moony stalked Scrimgeour, blocking his attempts to reach the pieces of the Staff. Sirius took strained steps towards the pieces, now edging together in jerking bouts of movement. Though he didn't have far to go, his progress was slow, his strides long like he'd been caught in a freeze hex. Scrimgeour screached like a tortured beast, swamping the ritual in anger and frustration. Again, the hollow man screamed
Harry watched as Sirius shimmered, losing his solidity, and laid himself over the artefact pieces, reaching his arm for the wayward orb. His shimmer brightened with a blinding flash and in a backlash of power the entire room blacked out. Wolfwood incanted the final words, deep, pregnant with the power of negation. A moment of silence. Another. And then Moony howled, forlorn and full of longing and loss. He howled and howled, and Harry knew that when the lights came up again, Sirius would be gone.
"Lumos," someone shouted, filling a tiny bubble of the room with warm wandlight and Harry's prediction was true. Sirius, and the Staff pieces, were gone.
"No!" came another cry, this one slurred and swimming in spit. "Not the orb. My Staff!" But then the cries were lost under a bubble of a sigh and the room settled once again into silence.
Nobody moved and all Harry could do was look on at the empty place where Sirius should have stood, Draco, weak and shuddering, held tight in his arms.
Finally, more wands lit the darkened room. Harry tore his attention away from the empty centre of the circle, turning towards where he last heard Scrimgeour's cry. Moony was sitting there, muzzle stained red and Scrimgeour's body prone at his feet. Snout aimed towards the air, Moony howled again.
Chapter 25
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