Chapter Image by the incredible Visenya at The Dark Arts
Chapter Song: This Is War by Thirty Seconds To Mars
***
Just a quick author's note: In the following chapter we meet Blaise Zabini. I started this story so long ago (before Order of the Phoenix was released!) that at that point we didn't know if Blaise was a boy or a girl. By the time Half-Blood Prince came out and it was revealed Blaise was a boy, I had already invested quite a lot in my female version of her. As this is a parallel universe, I decided not to change her, so that's why he's a she. I've had a few people ask about it, so I hope that clears things up! Hxxx
***
Chapter Thirty Five
"Draco?" whispered Harry.
"What in the name of Merlin?" hissed Seamus.
Hermione's hand groped for Harry's, but he couldn't seem to process anything at all. There were so many people, too many to comprehend, all staring down at the four trembling teenagers flanking Draco Malfoy. And Voldemort, his skull-like face triumphant, Draco's father equally pleased at his side.
Seamus' head was jerking from one direction to the next, hands in fists, muttering incoherent profanities in Draco's direction. Parvati was frozen stiff, tears threatening to spill from her wide eyes. Hermione squeezed Harry's hand. She was going to die, and it was his fault.
"What have you done?" Harry breathed, turning to Draco. But he was completely immobile, devoid of emotion, gaze fixed on his father. How could he have been so blind, Harry cursed himself furiously. All those warnings Parvati and Seamus had given him, he'd let his own idealism get in the way; he'd wanted to believe Malfoy could be a better person and he'd led them all to their deaths.
And Sarah! What had happened to her, where was she? He was never going to get to her now, would she even ever know he tried?
No one was speaking. Lucius Malfoy appeared to be enjoying himself, but finally broke the silence with a raised eyebrow. "Your companions don't seem very happy Draco?" he commented nonchalantly. Draco didn't flinch a muscle.
"No," he said simply. "They never suspected a thing."
"Oh yes we bloody did!" cried Seamus, lunging for Draco. Harry darted in to pull him off; they were so hopelessly outnumbered picking a fight would be suicide. Though as Seamus backed away, Harry lamented maybe dying sooner rather than later would be preferable. He clicked his jaw together and pushed the thought away. There was still time to try and escape, it wasn't over yet.
Lucius laughed softly to himself, readjusting his grip on the cane he was holding in front of him. The silver knob was covered in entwined serpents, the base ending in a wicked looking metallic tip. "You've done very well son."
The vile sense of betrayal Harry was feeling for Draco at that moment exceeded any previous animosity he had ever had for him before. It was one thing to hate someone who had always been a selfish, cowardly glory hunter, but to have built up his trust like that, formed a connection like that? Was his mother even dead wondered Harry bitterly.
"I knew it," Parvati was whispering, clinging onto Seamus. "I knew it, I knew it."
"I dare say," Lucius continued, ignoring everyone except his son. "That this will indeed redeem you for that embarrassing scene you made before you left. Your mother's death was tragic, but she would be proud to see you returned to us today."
Harry saw Draco jerk almost unnoticeably, more of a spasm than anything else. He didn't reply, just nodded curtly.
Voldemort took a graceful step down from the plinth they were on, the woman by his side eying him greedily. Harry had a vague recollection of Sirius saying her name was Bellatrix, something to do with Neville's parents, but he couldn't remember with everything assaulting his senses like they were. "It was a bold venture you proposed to us, young Malfoy," said Voldemort, hands grasped in front of his body. His voice was silky smooth, like a snake gliding on grass. It brought chills to Harry's spine, transporting him straight back to that night in the graveyard when Cedric had died.
Voldemort came to a halt ten or so feet from where Harry and the others were standing. He was so fixated on the face that had been haunting his nightmares since the summer, Harry wasn't sure if he saw something shine briefly green at the back on the hall. It looked like some kind of flare, but as Harry couldn't see any relevance to it he dropped it from his fervoured thoughts. No one else seemed to have noticed.
"I am pleased," he carried on, addressing only Draco. "To see it come successfully to fruition. Though, I must admit," he added slyly, red eyes glancing at Lucius. "There were times when we had our doubts. You did not seem to be in the best frame of mind when you left us. And Wormtail's report from Godric's Hollow this evening?" He shook his head and tutted. "But your father's faith in you has proved true. You should be proud."
Draco's voice was as tight as his posture when he spoke. "Thank you," was all he said.
"So this was all about winning back your father's good grace?" snarled Harry, fury blurring his vision. Voldemort smiled, his skin a shining white beckon in the torch lit amphitheatre.
"Ah," he said softly. "And this is Harry Potter." He extended a hand out, a gesture of welcome. "How nice to finally make your acquaintance."
We've already met, was what Harry wanted to shout. I've defeated you four times. But he remained silent. He couldn't kid himself; there wouldn't be a fifth.
"We have so much to discuss." Voldemort said, almost warmly. "Draco, I think it would be time for you to take your place by your father's side, so that Harry and I might get a little more au fait with one another."
Draco paused. "You would think that," he said. "Wouldn't you?"
Voldemort become very still. With his waxy skin he looked extraordinarily like a statue. "Master Malfoy," he said, his voice dangerously low. "Your actions have already pushed my patience to its limit. I would advise you do not play games with me."
Something dark flashed across Draco's features, his poker face vanishing. "Oh it's not a game," he growled. Lucius Malfoy's cool demeanour was also suddenly replaced by a mixture of shock and horror.
"Draco," he hissed, hand slipping from his cane. "If this still about your mother-"
"It's ALL about my mother!" Draco roared.
"My Lord," gasped Lucius, abandoning his son without a thought and turning to Voldemort. "I apologise, I don't know what's got into him-"
Draco laughed bitterly. Harry's head was rushing with confusion, just what was going on? "What's got into me?" shrieked Draco. His hair was standing on all ends, fists clenched, shoulders shaking. "Perhaps it was how you tricked me into helping destroy the school, or how you abandoned me to the basilisk. Or," he hissed, his face flushing scarlet. "It was how you stood by as my mother was MURDERED!"
Voldemort regarded him almost impassively, only slight irritation pulling at his eyes. But Lucius was furious. "How dare you talk to me like this Draco!" he cried, brandishing his cane. "Your mother was out of line, she abandoned her senses and had to be dealt with - it was justice!"
"It was retribution," snarled Draco. "I was your scapegoat and she was my punishment." Harry couldn't help it; he knew their situation was still almost impossible, but the quickening realisation that Draco hadn't betrayed them, that he was still on their side, brought fire to his belly. As long as he was still his ally, Harry would fight until the bitter end with him. But why had he brought them to the Death Eaters like this, had he known they would be here?
"And so you chose to run away from us," sighed Voldemort. "Into the arms of Dumbledore and his fools." He shook his head. "Tragic."
"I'm not running anymore," Draco said defiantly, his chin in the air, but Voldemort just laughed.
"No," he said, "no you're not. You've decided to come back to us, in a rather spectacular fashion. You always were one for theatrics Mr Malfoy. But let me ask you this, where are all of Dumbledore's fools now, hmm?"
Harry drew his wand out and aimed it directly at Voldemort. "Right here," he said as steadily as he could manage
"My name," said Draco, "is not Malfoy. It's Draco. And yes, I am standing with the people behind me, with Harry Potter, because they know a little thing about honour and decency. You took the most important person in the world from me. You can't hurt me anymore." He flashed a dangerous looking smile. "But I'm pretty sure I can still hurt you."
Voldemort chuckled again as Lucius looked panicked between his master and his son. Pettigrew shifted uncomfortably, Bellatrix and Barty Crouch watched on eagerly. "Your spirit boys," began Voldemort. "Is admirable. However I fear your courage does not quite match up to your mathematical skills. For there are hundreds of us," he said, indicating the auditorium of people behind him. "And only five of you."
"Five?" was all Draco said.
Seconds stretched out, and Harry was sure the thumping of his heart was echoing right across the whole auditorium. Seamus had his wand out, standing behind Harry and Draco, muscles tensed and ready for a fight. Parvati's face shone with tears, but she was no longer crying, her face set instead with hard determination. Hermione was digging her nails so hard into her hands she had drawn blood. Harry took a breath, nerves screaming in anticipation, but Draco once again was completely still, eyes boring into his father's face.
Lucius turned away, unable to take the glare any longer. Voldemort frowned, obviously expecting more of an answer than Draco was prepared to give, and made as if to speak. But then a movement to the far left of Harry's vision caught his eye. He jumped, and Voldemort noticing, also twisted to see the cause of the disturbance.
About two thirds of the way up the stands of the arena, one of the countless Death Eaters lowered their hood and stood for a moment, considering. It took Harry a few seconds to realise he knew this girl, she was in his own year at school. Her name was Blaise Zabini, a quiet Slytherin girl who normally hid behind a sheet of shining brown hair whilst Pansy Parkinson and her gang tormented other students. Harry had barely heard her speak more than two words the entire time he'd been at Hogwarts, but he knew she was very clever.
Perhaps the fact that her hair was now cut extremely short, or the fact that she stood confidently, shoulders back, expression scared but resolute, was why Harry had failed to recognise her straight away. Her eyes were fixed on Draco, studiously ignoring the hundreds of people now staring perplexed at her. She took a deep breath, visible even from where Harry was standing, dropped her black robes to the floor and took a step down towards them. "Blaise!" hissed a voice that floated across the taught atmosphere of the amphitheatre. A middle aged woman beside where Blaise had moved from yanked down her hood, gawping at the plain clothed girl as she paused. Harry stared in shock as he spotted two short blades hanging from Blaise's hips, she gripped one of the hilts tightly as she turned to face the older woman.
The woman looked wildly about, as if hoping her peers might intervene. Nobody else moved though. "Blaise," she whispered again. "What are you doing?" Harry could hear every word the room was so silent.
Blaise looked almost tearful, but she set her jaw angrily. "I'm doing what's right mother," she said, loudly so Harry didn't even have to strain to hear her. "I wouldn't expect you to understand." Her accent was extremely well educated, the kind you heard in films rather than in real life. She whipped round on her heals and trotted down the stairs, eyes on the floor until she reached Draco. Harry saw how pink her face was, how her forehead was pricked with sweat as she handed Draco one of her blades, squeezing his wrist and drawing out the other sword for herself.
Voldemort once again managed an amused laugh, which Bellatrix and Barty followed obediently. "And now you have six," he commented sardonically.
"I'm not finished yet," snapped Draco, eyes shining.
All of a sudden, it seemed there were at least a dozen more robes dropped to the floor, their owners walking swiftly towards Harry and the others. Voldemort amusement lessened somewhat. "I see," he said evenly. But then, to Harry's right, another group of Death Eaters threw down their robes, deserting their Lord, and even more on the far left. More to the back, some very near the front, more and more were declaring their allegiance to Draco's cause, most of them young, but some older members too.
Harry felt his jaw drop open as he looked around at the throng of people clustering around them. Freiheit, he thought unbelievingly, eyes dancing between familiar and unfamiliar faces. This was it, this was their moment of revolution. They were all dressed in Muggle clothing, their black robes discarded like the shedding of skin. They were pulling weapons from their backs, from holsters round their jeans. Clubs and blades and nasty looking spiky things Harry couldn't give names to, not one of them sporting a wand which gave Harry pause. Their faces were scared, rebellious, grief stricken and filled with loathing.
"Bloody Hell," muttered Seamus in awe. Parvati trembled at the weapons, and Harry couldn't blame her. Were they going into battle? Why was no one using their wands?
He caught Draco's eye beside him. It conveyed relief, eagerness and terror all at once. Harry pulled a small smile at him, his insides doing summersaults with adrenalin. Maybe it wasn't over yet, maybe they still had a chance, and his thoughts turned to Sarah again. Hang on in there, he willed her. I'm coming for you, just hang on.
Those still dressed in black were scrambling around on the plinths, regrouping, their voices calling out in anger as their comrades deserted them. Voldemort's inner circle, Bellatrix, Barty and Peter, were backing away; only Lucius remained by Voldemort's side, more out of shock Harry suspected rather than anything else.
Voldemort himself looked venomous. Barely controlled fury bristled from his every fibre, red eyes blazing at Draco standing tall. "And what," he fumed, "exactly, is this?"
"The end," a clear voice rang from the back of the room, behind the cowering still-robed Death Eaters. Voldemort spun around. Harry squinted through the gloom, bodies fidgeting distractingly around him. The voice seemed familiar, but it wasn't until his face was illuminated Harry knew for sure. Professor Snape.
"Severus," growled Voldemort. "Playing leader again I see? How pitiful."
He was in charge of Freiheit? He was the one coming to his rescue? Harry couldn't think of anyone he wanted to see less. As he threaded his way down through the auditorium, flanked by a dozen or so more plain clothed people, all carrying weapons of their own, Harry could see he was still the same hook-nosed, greasy teacher he'd always loathed. Same frayed robes, same disdainful expression and angry mouth. Did he hate the other Harry too? Did he make his life misery? He snuck a glance at Draco, who had always been his favourite. How did he feel about all this?
Dumbledore had tried to convince Harry of Snape's integrity many times before, but now faced with the prospect of trusting him with the fate of the wizarding world (not to mention his and his friends' lives) he was stricken, feet wanting to flee but head making him stay. Draco's cheeks were flushed, eyes bright. This was obviously who he'd been waiting for, he was staring intently at the potions master with relief. Maybe it would be okay.
Snape and his companions walked down the last few steps. He stood at the front of Draco's group, facing his former master, as the rest joined the throng. Harry realised there was probably nothing he could do about having his former potions teacher suddenly thrown into the equation, but he still edged closer to Hermione none the less. "You never knew when to quit, did you My Lord." Snape's tone was mocking, which Harry thought was pretty brave under the circumstances.
"You," seethed Voldemort. "You all, seek to oppose me, challenge ME?"
Hermione had pulled Sarah's wand out, and at that moment Draco apparently noticed. "You can't use that!" he hissed at her, snatching Harry's attention away from Snape and Voldemort. The tension in the room was like the ropes on a suspension bridge; ready to break spectacularly at any second.
"What?" uttered Hermione, eyes flicking to Harry. The five students were huddled together, Blaise glued to Draco's other side as he tried to whisper hurriedly at them without being noticed by Voldemort, who was screaming at Snape now; they could only have seconds before someone attacked.
"Magic won't work in here," said Draco desperately, and Harry's insides plummeted. "Only for him," he jerked his head over his shoulder at Voldemort. "Get the stakes I gave you."
The people around them were rallying, shouting, jostling. Hermione looked petrified. "They're not vampires," she stuttered.
"Pretty sure," snarled Parvati, a look on her face Harry had never seen before. "A stake in the heart will still kill them." She and Seamus pulled out their stakes, but Seamus handed his to Hermione.
"I've got me mitts," he told her.
"You got another sword?" Harry asked. He had only used Gryffindor's sword against the Basilisk, but if everyone else had one, he wanted one too.
Blaise Zabini handed him one from nowhere, similar to hers and Draco's. "Thanks," he said, and she nodded in return.
A noise grabbed his attention, and Harry barely had time to register that Voldemort, spitting in rage, had reached the end of his patience. As he plunged his waxy arm into his robes, Harry grabbed Hermione and pulled her to the ground, the killing spell spinning out in an arch instantaneously.
Snape was only just able to dive out of the way of the green light, but a curly haired boy with glasses behind him wasn't so lucky. He could only have been a few years older than Harry, and the spell struck him square on the chest. He crumpled to the floor, dead, before he even knew what had hit him. Just like Cedric.
There was a demented roar in the air as the two sides ran at each other. Madness, chaos, confusion, Harry didn't know which way to turn. He had a hold of Hermione's wrist, pulling her from the melee, when her scream made him drop it and fly both hands to the sword.
"LOOK OUT!" On instinct he brought the weapon up in an arch, clanging it against one belonging to Walden McNair, Buckbeak's would-be executioner.
"You!" Harry shouted, pushing him back. McNair grinned, apparently pleased Harry Potter knew who he was. There was a sea of motion all around them, and Harry had lost sight of Hermione in it. He didn't have time to dwell on it though, as McNair had his blade up again, slashing it over and over at Harry who kept stepping backwards, bringing his new sword up defensively when he could. He forced him off the plinth, into the shadows near the wall with the door Harry and the others had just come through.
"Dark Lord wants you alive," grinned McNair, flashing gold teeth. He may have been skinny, but his arms were strong on that sword. "He did not however, specify you had to be in one piece." With a tremendous fling from his shoulders he wrenched the sword from Harry's grasp, sending it clattering to the floor and Harry to the ground. Harry gasped and scrambled backwards until he hit the wall. Columns lined the edges of the amphitheatre, and now Harry was trapped between two of them, McNair blocking his way out. "Surely," continued McNair as Harry's eyes darted around for anything that could help. "You don't need both your hands, do you?"
Harry cried out as McNair heaved his sword up, aiming it down where Harry was cornered. On reflex Harry threw his arms in front of his face, jamming his eyes shut as the blow should have hit. Instead there was a resounding clang.
Harry jerked his eyes open again. Draco was forcing McNair and his weapon backwards, his short sword already dripping sickeningly with blood that flicked off with every swing he took. The gloating look had disappeared right off McNair's face, and with good reason. Harry couldn't help but stare at Draco; despite his injured leg which was obviously still affecting him, his technique with the sword was astonishing. He parried and deflected in a way that was almost majestic, his face focused with determination. The weapons rang out as metal clashed on metal, Draco ducking away from any blows that came near him, flinching every time he limped on his bad leg but lunging forwards with his blade as if nothing was holding him back in the slightest.
Hermione dropped to the floor behind him. "Are you okay?" she gasped. "I got pulled away..." Her voice trailed away as she too became mesmerised by Draco's skill. He lunged; he'd lost his coat before starting the duel, and the lines of his muscles cut through the sleeves of his thin jumper. The two swords became suddenly locked, the hilts jammed against each other. The two of them tried to yank their own respective blade towards themselves, but the way their grips were placed meant neither could break free.
McNair swiped at Draco's face with his free hand, and Draco summed up all his previous dexterity and expertise by simply lurching away from his opponent, releasing both the swords, grabbing McNair's shoulders and rocketing his good knee up into the Death Eater's crotch with such a force that McNair actually left the ground.
He landed with a strange squeaking noise, then crashed to the floor, clutching his manhood and wheezing, purple faced. "Sod off!" Draco shouted down to him, scooping up his sword and gripping onto his spear-wound which looked to be bleeding again through his jeans. His voice was barely audible over the din coming from the rest of the hall.
They were concealed in the shadows, away from the main throng, but Blaise had obviously followed after Draco and now dropped down to join them behind the pillars. Harry helped Hermione onto her feet, and turned to face Draco as he held his fallen sword out for him to take back. "You alright?" he asked, concerned.
Harry took the sword from him, his gaze scanning the carnage happening out in the light and he tried not to retch. "I'm not hurt if that's what you mean." The noise was unbearable, people screaming and shouting, weapons clanging and scraping.
Blaise had confiscated McNair's sword and tied his hands with his own belt. She stood and regarded the little group, then held out the spare sword for Hermione.
Nausea rolled visibly over the other girl as she regarded the sword in trepidation. "I don't know how to use that," she whispered.
Draco raised an eyebrow, half turning to make sure no one was leaping at them whilst they were distracted. "We could leave it lying around for someone else to find if you'd like?" Hermione took the sword and clutched it to her chest. Draco looked at her and Harry and took a deep breath, his face very pale. "I'm sorry," he said hurriedly, "about what happened back there. I didn't know if the hall was going to be empty or if they were going to be there like that, but I had to wait for Severus to give me a sign."
"It's okay," said Harry, just as quickly. He opened his mouth to continue but the words were swallowed by a gasp as a robed figure suddenly came hurtling out of the light towards them. He barely flinched away before Blaise pounced, sword arching through the air. Their attacker froze in a split second, then was nothing more than a blur as he scrambled away from the skinny girl. Harry almost thought he heard him whimper.
Harry took a deep breath and shook his head, trying to remember what he'd just been about to say. The flare, behind Voldemort, that was it. "The sign," he said to Draco, who didn't seem at all concerned his friend had just jumped into battle. "It was that green light, wasn't it?"
Draco nodded, still clutching his leg. His faith in Blaise proved true a moment later as she snuck back into their shadow, blood dripping unnervingly from her sword.
"You can't fight any more," she said pragmatically, eyeing up the increasing amount of blood staining Draco's jeans.
Draco looked between her, Harry and Hermione. "But-?" he started, but she cut him off.
"You should stay here." She flicked her sword to indicate where they had found their refuge. "With Granger, in the shadows."
Hermione's eyebrows shot up. "I - I shouldn't - how do you who I am?" she spluttered, still trembling with McNair's blade clutched in her hands. Blaise wiped her own sword on her leg and blinked large hazel eyes.
"You had braces in your case-study photo," she said simply. Hermione looked between the boys. Harry couldn't help but think her hiding was a very good idea, especially if Draco was there to protect her.
"But," said Hermione quietly. "I don't want to be a coward."
"You're not a coward," snapped Harry and Draco simultaneously. They even emphasised the word 'not' in the same way.
"You wouldn't have made it this far if you were," murmured Blaise, eyes back on the fight. She stood the tallest in the group with Draco slumping on his leg, her muscles were taught, ready to spring back into action again.
Draco finally gave in and almost fell from the pain in his injury, but Harry was there propping him up before he had chance to really go anywhere. "How about," said Draco wearily to Hermione. "We look after each other?" He waved his sword half heartedly at her. "That way I'll feel more manly."
Blaise scoffed. "Drama queen."
"Princess Rah," he retorted without pause, a smile on his bloodless lips.
"Okay," said Harry, aware that the minutes were ticking by. "Is everyone okay with that?" They all nodded.
"Good," said Blaise. She hugged Draco with one arm then turned back towards the thinning battle. Harry guessed people were naturally moving their skirmishes outwards, giving themselves room. There was still a heaving mass of bodies thrashing about though, so Draco and Hermione didn't have to worry just yet about people getting bored and going exploring.
"What are you going to do?" said Draco, just as Blaise reached the threshold. She only half turned her face to him in response.
"Someone has to make sure your father doesn't get in any more trouble than he already is." And with that she was gone. Draco's weight sagged against Harry.
"Yeah," he said listlessly. "I guess so."
Harry and Hermione helped him sit to the floor, where Hermione used a strip from her school shirt to make a tourniquet for Draco's leg. The spell Seamus had performed was wearing off and Draco's was not only bleeding profusely but looked to be in a considerable amount of pain.
Seamus. Harry was ashamed to say he'd completely forgotten about the other two in the past few minutes.
"Did you see what happened to Seamus and Parvati?" he asked in a rush as the tourniquet took effect.
Draco actually managed half a smile. "They latched onto a group with cricket bats," he said. "That Finnigan has a mean left hook." Harry nodded as he crouched. Hermione sitting next to Draco, their backs to the wall, tucked in as best they could by the pillar closest to the stage so as to be best concealed.
Draco looked up at Harry. "You're going after your sister, aren't you?" Harry bit his lip, and nodded. That was exactly what he was going to do. "You know he'll be looking for you.
Harry didn't have to ask who he meant.
"I know, that's why I have to go. He'll use her against me if he can." Draco nodded; he knew all too well how that worked.
"Here," said Hermione hastily, pulling out Sarah's wand from her pocket. "You need to give it back to her." Harry smiled gratefully at her as he took it.
"Thanks," he said. It didn't seem enough.
Draco pointed into the shadows, away from the plinth and the auditorium. "Down there's the rest of the complex," he said. "There's various...rooms, Sarah's probably in one of them." Harry didn't want to know what kind of rooms they were.
"Look after each other," he said, feeling his throat tightening.
"Look after yourself," said Draco.
"Good luck," added Hermione. And before he could change his mind, Harry stood up, spinning on his heels and raced out of the amphitheatre.
He didn't look around to see if anyone was watching.