Magic? || Years 5-7

It Begins: The Battle of Hogwarts

Dark as spilled ink and speckled with stars, the enchanted ceiling of the Great Hall was mockingly serene. Below, lining the House tables, groups of students in a bizarre menagerie of traveling cloaks and pajamas stood silent. Dotted in between, the white phantoms of the school ghosts flitted among the crowd. Every eye sat fixed on Professor McGonagall, speaking from a raised platform carved with a wooden owl peering down at them. The remaining teachers flanked her, the Order of the Phoenix dispersed among them.

". . .evacuation will be overseen by Mr. Filch and Madam Pomfrey."

Amisty jumped, then felt sick with guilt. She hadn't even thought to. . . was there even any time left?

"Prefects, when I give the word, you will organize your House and take your charges, in an orderly fashion, to the evacuation point."

The air was thick with fear. Amisty could taste it on her tongue, bitter and metallic, as she and Harry skirted the walls. One of the first years was crying.

"And what if we want to stay and fight?" Ernie Macmillan, having launched himself on top of the Hufflepuff table, shouted.

A scattered round of applause filled the room.

"If you are of age, you may stay," Professor McGonagall said.

"What about our things?" A girl said, perched on the edge of the Ravenclaw table. "Our trunks, our owls?"

"We have no time to collect possessions," Professor McGonagall said. "The important thing is to get you out of here safely."

"Where's Professor Snape?" a Slytherin shouted.

Grimmer than before, Professor McGonagall said, "He has, to use the common phrase, done a bunk."

The Gryffindors, Hufflepuffs, and Ravenclaws broke into cheers. Harry and Amisty rounded the corner, now pressed against the wall by the Gryffindor table, hunting for Ron and Hermione. A wave of whispering broke out behind them, faces turning and eyes going wide at the sight of him.

"We have already placed protection around the castle," Professor McGonagall continued even as the whispering swelled, "but it is unlikely to hold for very long unless we reinforce it. I must ask you, therefore, to move quickly and calmly, and do as your prefects—"

Amisty jumped. Someone off to her right gave a high-pitched yelp. Harry grabbed her upper arm and dragged her to his side, wand drawn. A new voice echoed through the hall, bouncing off the high ceilings and rattling inside her eardrums. It was cold, clear, distinct at the edges, and coming from nowhere and everywhere at once.

She felt ill.

"I know that you are preparing to fight."

Screams rung amongst the students, friends clutching friends and siblings huddled together in tight knots. They were looking everywhere, trying in vain to find the source.

"Your efforts are futile. You cannot fight me. I do not want to kill you. I have great respect for the teachers of Hogwarts. I do not want to spill magical blood."

A sort of manic spell of laughter bubbled in Amisty's chest and died. Thinking of the amount of blood staining the marble floors of Malfoy Manor, she had her doubts.

"Give me Harry Potter," Voldemort's voice said, leaving an icy trail down Amisty's spine, "and none shall be harmed. Give me Harry Potter, and I shall leave the school untouched. Give me Harry Potter, and you will be rewarded.

"You have until midnight."

Silence swept the hall, giant and suffocating and swallowing up every inch of air. Heads turned, bodies swiveling to find Harry, holding him hostage in a sea of eyes. His fingers twitched around Amisty's arm. Then, shaking and shrill, Pansy Parkinson rose from the Slytherin table.