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“-. October 26, 1992 .-“
Harry slept in the next morning, which was not good as it was a Monday. Ron had to wake him up a second time after breakfast (Harry didn’t remember the first), then a bleary Boy-Who-Lived was promptly distracted from the confounding sight of the Scabbers-possessing ghost.
“Mate, what happened to you?” Ron asked. “Was it the twins?”
“What?”
“Your hair, mate.”
“What?”
Harry stumbled to the loo and stared at his reflection. His hair was red. Like his Mum’s. No, even redder. Except just as much of a mess as before. It looked like an explosion had gone off.
Dad did this, Harry thought numbly. Then he was everything but numb. Holy shit, Dad did this – I met my Dad!
The crazy laughter that took a hold of him made Harry forget about the Curse of the Scabbers Man-Ghost and his classmates looked at him like he was nuts for the rest of the morning.
“Come on, Mate, relax, it’s not so bad,” Ron awkwardly reassured him when Harry finished laughing and went back to looking like he’d seen a ghost, which he had. “Tell him, Neville.”
“Harry, why’s your hair red?”
Ron groaned. “That new wand’s only made you more useless. Come on, Harry, the twins have a free period so they should still be swindling people down in the Common Room, we’ll make them take it off before Charms.”
Fred and George were indeed in the common room. They denied spelling Harry’s hair though, and people even started to believe them when nobody up to the seventh years managed to reverse the change.
“Finite!” “Finite Incantatum!” “Colovaria!” “Colovaria Reverso!” “Blimey, that’s some stubborn spellwork, Potter. This calls for experimentation!”
Thanks a lot, Dad, Harry thought dismally as he and Ron ran late for Charms. Now everyone wants to use me as a guinea pig. Apparently, his Dad could use even stuff his son didn’t necessarily mind to throw his life into chaos. At least you didn’t give me freckles. Harry stumbled. That’s not an invitation!
Professor Flitwick failed to undo it. Professor Lockhart accidentally made his scalp break out in hives instead. Harry spent the rest of DADA and his free period in the hospital wing, where Madam Pomfrey failed to reverse the change too, eventually giving up and sending him off with a jar of boil-removing paste to mix with his shampoo. That made his boils go away but his hair still insisted on looking like a bright cherry.
He bemoaned his fate long and woefully in the what-did-all-of-last-night-even-mean letter he sent Nicolas that evening, but he felt completely justified when his condition showed no sign of fading the next day. Or the day after that. Looked like this was one of those Marauder pranks made to last a while.
Oh well, it’s not so bad, Harry told himself. I can live with looking a bit more like Mum for a while. Even without the black hair, I’m still Dad’s spitting image.
Unfortunately, Harry reached that decision only after Hagrid gave him a pep-talk. On Wednesday. Just before Potions class.
“Potter!’ Snape barked in outrage the moment he laid eyes on him. “What is the meaning of this?”
Here we go. “I’m not sure what you mean, sir.” It was even true, so-
“Five points from Griffindor for your insolence! Ten more for failing to seek help with this unsightly display!” Where was this outrage the last few days during meals? “Finite Incantatem!” Nothing happened. “Oh, not the typical two-bit spellwork, found help from that pair of devils, did you Potter? Colovaria!”
Snape’s wand turned Gryffindor red.
The class turned silent as the grave.
“POTTER!” Snape hollered. Literally hollered, flying spittle and everything. “You think this is funny, boy!?” But Harry didn’t mean to snicker, it’s just- “Fifty points from Gryffindor!”
Harry gaped in outrage. He couldn’t do that! “You can’t just-!“
“Not another word or you’ll be in detention by the time you turn thirty! Ten more points for presuming to command Hogwarts staff!”
If I ever drop my wand again I’ll deserve what happens.
Snape’s puce-colored face spasmed hideously one last time before the greasy git forcefully averted his eyes and stalked back to the front of the class. “I’ll admit, Potter. I underestimated you. I did not think your mind capable of such targeted mockery.”
Bugger you, Harry seethed. What the hell crawled up your shorts?
“And what are you all doing standing about? Get to work!”
Thanks a lot Dad, Harry thought glumly. This isn’t a prank on me, it’s a prank on Snape!
The only bright spot in that week when even Ron and Hermione were starting to give him a wide berth (how could they?) was when Eudaimon finally delivered Nicolas’ return letter.
----------------------------------------
> To my overachieving student who is far too short and skinny and is therefore commanded to follow the meal guide I transfigured this letter out of unless you have some heretofore unknown allergy to eggs and milk and meat,
>
> I will preface this by saying I have focused only on the sights as described by you – while we walked the same path, we did not both see and do all the same things. Not all of them were visions either, as opposed to actual events happening in the various worlds and dimensions that bled through each other and ours, but that is another matter.
>
> First off, you are right to be sceptical about the ‘dwarves’ you saw. Those creatures are not dwarves, they are imps. The dvergal are mighty, noble beings that left this world long ago, before the last deluge, before the war against the void pretenders sunk Atlantis beneath the sea, before even the gods left our plane and planet.
>
> The golden apple trees in the pools sound remarkably like Trees of Life, saplings of the World Tree Yggdrasil. Its physical manifestation occurs very rarely on Mount Kogaion, but saplings have been grown at various times in various places, notably Richat, Asgard, and in the Labyrinth of the Gods in Greece. The red flower-like ‘jelly’ sounds like ambrosia. I am not sure why you saw these things, seeing as they were consumed or destroyed in the chaos that led to the collapse of the Bronze Age.
>
> The simpleton coming out of the cemetery was an apparition, but I was able to snag a trace of ectoplasm off him as he passed by. My scryings point towards one Charles Godon, a muggle yankee who vanished off the face of the earth in 1965. And I do mean vanished, there seems to be no trace of him for magic to track after his disappearance on July 28 that year. It is literally like he disappeared from existence, which admittedly has roused my interest. I am looking into more mundane means, the man did not live so long ago that he wouldn’t be survived by some family or acquaintance. I will keep you informed.
>
> The man you saw mauled to death I’m less certain of. He seemed like a warrior or soldier, but his weapon and garb are unfamiliar to me. Without a clear idea of the symbol on his forehead, I can only speculate. The body-snatching snake is the more concerning thing, as it behaved worryingly like the void pretenders I mentioned earlier. But I know of no account where they burst out of people’s bellies, let alone live such base lives as roundworms. And if they were to suddenly return, let alone start a war on this planet this very year, it is an event of such scope that shadows would have been cast long into the past. I and others would have seen signs and visions of it decades ago, and the backdoor they might have used for more subtle infiltration was thrown into the sun millennia past. The pyramids floating in space that you saw in the Hogwarts Lake could potentially be their own an argument, but the pyramid is such a basic and useful shape that literally anyone is liable to adopt it for anything and everything, void-bound or otherwise.
>
> The events inside Hogwarts are of more immediate concern. The sheer level of response on the part of the Genius Loci is remarkable. I believe this affinity will serve you well even beyond the scope of the Walk itself. However, that you stumbled upon a phylactery, let alone one that made your scar split open before it literally attacked you, is nothing short of alarming. In light of the events of last year – which I will fill in the blanks for next time we meet in person – I think it goes without saying that it must belong to Tom Riddle. Since you managed to secure it, however, I am reluctant to advise its immediate disposal. Not only do you lack the means, but finding out exactly why you reacted the way you did takes precedence over knee-jerk reactions. You should not have been incapacitated, let alone in so gruesome a manner. However, I will not presume to make decisions for you, nor expect you to wait on me when you have Albus and the entire Hogwarts staff on hand. The same goes for the mystery of the haunted rat. The one with first-hand intelligence will do as he thinks right.
>
> Finally, the crystal sphere has me stumped. Astronomical calculations relative to even the largest estimate for the impacting object indicate a diameter greater than our solar system’s entire heliosphere. That is assuming the ‘rainbow gas’ behaves anything like the void at all, which it most likely doesn’t seeing as it literally caught fire. The other objects and events are only more baffling, the symbolism is all over the place. I fear this is one mystery that will rely a great deal on luck to solve. Or perhaps further insight will reveal itself as you reprise the Walk in the future.
>
> Speaking of which, having witnessed you become such an overachiever, I expect you to observe the Yearly Walk through all of its seven consecutive years. Moreover, having read of everything I didn’t get to witness but believe every word of because you are a good and honest lad, I sincerely hope you go past that and round it up at nine.
>
> I am very proud of you, little one.
>
> ~Love, Nicolas.
>
> ----------------------------------------
“Love, Nicolas,” Harry murmured, reading the words over and over while huddled behind the curtains of his bed. I am proud of you. The words kept repeating in his mind. Harry sniffled and quietly wiped at his eyes. He’d leave the tiara for later, he decided. Actually, everything except his schoolwork and friends could take a break from him too.
> Dear Nicolas,
>
> Thanks for all your help. And for being there. And everything. I have no idea what to do with any of this, but thank you.
>
> Were you serious that we’ll meet again? Will it be soon? Because I think I should hold off on the crown thing until then, that thing was nasty and I don’t think Dad will come back from the grave to wrestle it a second time. It’s pretty safe where it is. I’ll definitely tell the Headmaster, but I don’t think it’s such a good idea to go up to him and say I found Voldemort’s phylactery. Wouldn’t I sound like a nutter? Why would Voldemort make a phylactery and then leave it in Hogwarts? It’s crazy.
>
> You think you could be there for it? The last time the three of us went volunteering important information, nobody believed us.
>
> All year.
>
> Love, Harry.
There. That didn’t make him sound too needy, right? Even if he was totally waffling and really just wanted to meet Mister Flamel so he could touch him and make sure he was real.
Harry blew his nose and set about reading Nicolas’ put-some-meat-on-your-bones guide, already vowing to do everything it said.
Hilariously, ‘everything it said’ added up to nearly the same amount of food Ron ate in one sitting. Oh well, attention was inevitable. He was the Boy-Who-Lived, he’d never be allowed to change without everyone and their head of house giving him the side eye.
Unfortunately, Harry underestimated just how close he was to the end of his temper when Fake Halloween came along. Ironically, being annoyed at his Dad made the anniversary of his parents’ death slightly more bearable than the previous year. Unfortunately, he couldn’t be at the feast because he’d promised to attend Nearly Headless Nick’s Deathday Party. It was every bit the opposite of what he’d hoped. Somehow, he’d neglected to consider that Cuthbert Binns might not be the only disappointing ghost at Hogwarts. And beyond, it turned out. To say nothing of the ambiance.
Chilly hall, cobwebbed walls, rotten food because apparently the only way ghosts got even a vague impression of taste was when the food was as dead as they were. The only redeeming feature of the ‘party’ were the severely underequipped chandeliers, because they made it so the only light in the ballroom was the one from the Hogwarts ghosts themselves. That, if nothing else, was properly phantasmic. It still didn’t change the fact that the whole event was so dismal and dreary that not just Ron but also Hermione were sending him meaningful looks and inching towards the door.
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
Harry might still have kept a stiff upper lip and gotten some mileage out of the ordeal through his talks with the ghosts, because their stories, if nothing else, were quite interesting. But then Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore and his Headless Hunt crashed the party and déjà vu made its unwelcome self known once more.
“Nick!” roared the party crasher. “How are you? Head still hanging there?” He gave a hearty guffaw and clapped Nearly Headless Nick on the shoulder.
“Welcome, Patrick,” said Nick stiffly. But did not invite him to partake of the… offerings.
“Live ‘uns!” said Sir Patrick, spotting Harry, Hermione and Ron and giving a huge, fake jump of astonishment so that his head fell off again. The crowd howled with laughter.
“Very amusing,” said Nick darkly.
“Don’t mind Nick!” shouted Sir Patrick’s head from the floor. “Still upset we won’t let him join the Hunt! But I mean to say… look at the fellow…”
“Says the talking head,” Harry said flatly, jarring the entire routine. He turned to Nick. “Did you invite this… qvasimodo?”
“Qvasimodo!?” Balked the head on the floor.
“No I did not,” Nick said.
“So he’s not here as a guest,” Harry said, knocking on the wall to see if... He felt Hogwarts stir around him familiarly, though slow and lumbering compared to before. Like… like it was sleepy. “He’s an intruder.”
“An excellent point!” Boasted Sir Patrick’s head while his body faced Sir Nicholas. “Won’t you invite us to your revelry, old boy? It is only proper!”
Nick said nothing.
“Ah, but what would be the point of that tonight?” Sir Patrick’s head sniffed loftily as his body finally retrieved him from the floor. “This is the Night of Hallows! No walls or boundaries or claims matter tonight, living or dead!”
So even ghosts could be ignorant of reality. “No it’s not.” The memory of the Yearly Walk came to life at the back of his mind and Harry Potter realised he knew what his Mum had done to the poltergeist. He’d known since the moment it happened. He just hadn’t known to think about it. Like... Like a memory from a dream he didn’t recall until it happened in real life.
Sir Patrick floundered. “I beg your pardon?”
“It’s not the night of Hallows.” Harry said slowly as if talking to a complete dunce, because he might be feeling a bit bloody offended on Sir Nick’s behalf right now. “That was last Sunday.”
Ron and Hermione exchanged confused whispers, but the huge, black-armored knight, who was the only headless hunter who didn’t have his head with him, separated from the rest of Patrick’s posse and landed between Sir Patrick and Sir Nicholas, facing the former with arms crossed.
Patrick looked shocked.
That was all the distraction Harry needed to snap his wand out of its holster and swish and jab- “Phantasma Claudo!” A pale white chain burst out of Harry’s wand, shooting across the room to smack the ghost in the chest, where it promptly split into four off-shoots that instantly wrapped around and through him.
“Ah!”
Harry flicked his wrist and sent the interloper flying. “Laqueus exspiravit.” Ectoplasm burst out of Harry’s wand, turning into a glowing net of chains that plastered Sir Patrick Delaney-Podmore and his head to the far wall, bound and gagged.
Harry lowered his wand, looking at his fine work. “Huh. Didn’t think that would work.” Thanks Hogwarts.
Hogwarts thrummed at the back of his mind and withdrew with one last scan of its new incorporeal ornament. It felt… definitely sleepy. Best not poke at it too much in the future then, Harry would hate to have his sleep constantly messed with too. Besides, how much longer must places sleep compared to people?
The Headless Hunt’s lone dissenter drifted over. Even headless, the black knight towered over him. The headless horseman then… poked him in the eye.
"Ouch, cold! Ugh, there's ectoplasm in my eye!" Harry took off his glasses to rub at his eyes. There was a lot of skurge charm in his near future, lovely, and the headless horseman was gone now so he couldn't even complain about it. Harry paused when he put his glasses back on though. There was stuff on his right lens. More ectoplasm. Ectoplasm that spelled words. The Blessed Crow keeps vigil under the White Hill. Harry blinked in confusion, then realized his surroundings had become conspicuously quiet.
Everyone was staring at him.
… Shite, he’d just done necromancy, hadn’t he? “Sorry, Ron, Hermione, I don’t think we’ll be making it to the pies. We’ll have to hope Fred and George smuggled some into Gryffindor Tower.”
“-. October 31, 1992 .-“
His distraction worked terribly. Not only did Ron and Hermione not take him up on the transparent attempt to pretend the scene they’d just seen had never happened, his friends both moved to one side of him and kept stubbornly quiet while glancing at each other all the way to Gryffindor Tower. Even more unfortunately, the twins weren’t around to bargain treats out of, so no easy distraction from that corner either. Harry was about to head for the unoccupied seats closest to the fireplace when Ron and Hermione very pointedly bracketed him, and marched him upstairs to the second year boys’ dormitory and shut the door behind them.
“Harry,” Hermione said decisively while Ron crossed his arms next to her. “We’re staging an intervention.”
“A what?”
“You’ve been avoiding us,” Hermione said as if he hadn’t spoken. “You’ve started wandering around the castle by yourself, you’ll only research things that have nothing to do with our lessons, you’ve been getting more and more distracted in classes, you’ve even started to eat like Ron-”
“It’s freaky, mate!”
“- but you’ve been running ahead of everyone else on practicals and somehow keep pulling powerful spells out of nowhere. First the Patronus charm, and now… whatever that was! Harry, since when have you known magic that can affect ghosts? It’s… That’s…”
“It’s soul magic, mate,” Ron said hesitantly. “Do you know what that means? Hogwarts doesn’t teach it, I don’t know if there’s stuff about it in the restricted section even. We’re lucky no other students saw, but what if the ghosts blab? Which they will!”
“Harry,” Hermione said cautiously. “This is bad.”
Thanks a lot, Hermione, it’s not like he already knew that or anything.
“Harry. Mate,” Ron hesitated. “Do you have something to tell us?”
No, Ron, I don’t because everybody only ever wants to know everything but they never actually tell me anything! Harry rubbed his face and turned away so he wouldn’t explode at them. Why did they have to interrogate him? Did he have to share everything? Wasn’t he allowed to keep anything to himself? So he had stuff to deal with, big bloody deal, everyone did! He’d done nothing wrong. There was nothing anyone could say to convince him otherwise. There was…
There was a ghost possessing Scabbers.
“Harry, I promise we’re not trying to interrogate you,” Hermione vowed.
There was a ghost possessing Scabbers at it was watching them.
“Really, we’re not,” Ron hastened to agree. “We’re just worried. It’s what friends do you know!”
There was a ghost possessing Scabbers at it was watching them from Ron’s bed.
“Harry,” Hermione said slowly. “Does this have anything to do with those letters you’ve-“
Harry raised a hand. He hadn’t expected to be cornered today, especially about something he was always going to ask Nicolas to share with them anyway, but if it was going to happen. “If we’re going to have this talk, we can at least do it in private. Sorry, Mr. Ghost.”
“Harry, what-“
“Phantasma Claudo.” Swish and jab and a pale white chain burst from Harry’s wand and wrapped around the ghost on Ron’s bed so if he just yanked-
Scabbers lurched off the bed and transformed mid-squeak into a rat-faced man that – SMASH! – crashed onto the floor of the dormitory in a tangle of sheets and bed curtains.
Harry Potter, Hermione Granger and Ron Weasley stared in shock at the very human being that was groaning in pain on the floor. They stared even more as the person dazedly climbed to the floor and looked around in confusion. Confusion that vanished almost too quickly and-
“Bloody hell!” Ron burst. “Who the bloody hell are you!?”
The Rat-Faced man stared blankly between the three of them and settled his unsettling beady eyes on Harry for several long, tense moments.
Then he lunged through Ron and Hermione and was out the door before they had finished crashing to the floor in his wake.
“Oh-ow!” “Ooof!”
Harry didn’t think. He took off after him. “Wait! Stop!” He barely stopped the door from smashing in his face. “STOP! Where are- PHANTASMA CLAUDO!” He nailed the re-transformed rat’s uglier ghost half just before it jumped down the stairs, causing the rat to shift mid-leap and lose his footing.
THUD – THUD – SMASH!
Rat Face rolled down the stairs and came to a groaning stop at the feet of Peter James who froze mid-way through his practice swish of the warming charm.
Harry came to a stumbling halt at the top of the winding mahogany staircase, startled to see that the entirety of Gryffindor House seemed to have appeared in the Common room sometime in the past few minutes, but Rat Face was recovering shockingly quickly, what does he do, what does he do now, if one spell worked would the latter do anything- “LAQUEUS EXSPIRAVIT!”
The blob of ectoplasm splattered over the man’s back and quickly wrapped him up in a ghostly net. Unfortunately, the man proved too alive and solid to be at all impeded. He only jumped to his feet faster. “STOP HIM!” Harry yelled, not knowing what else to do. “Don’t let him get away!”
“That’s him?” Someone cried, and what-?
"Is that the one who petrified-look OUT!"
Rat Face lunged and snatched Peter James’s wand. “EVERTE!”
Woosh – BOOM!
Everyone between Rat Face and the door was blasted aside.
Harry rushed down the doors while the Gryffindors that were still on their feet finally reacted. “Expelliarmus!” “Colloportus!” “Colloshoo!”
Rat Face ducked away from the disarmer – “Alohomora!” – left his shoes where they stuck and vanished through the portrait hole.
Harry didn't stop. He shot out after him. "Stop right there – where are-?" He was gone - but his ecto-net wasn't-! "Levicorpus!"
Fat Rat Face threw himself on the floor with a curse, but the dodge worked and he quickly pushed off and turned the corner towards the staircase.
“No!” Harry ran faster, he couldn’t let him get away- “St-OOF!” Harry turned the corner only to slip on a frozen puddle that hadn’t existed and smash into the opposite wall. “Owww- no, wait! Lumos.” Harry cast a light on the tip of his wand and ran.
Harry was about to despair – Rat Face had already reached the staircase, he was a stone’s throw from the ground floor! – but though Hogwarts was asleep, it must dream a mean dream because they ended up on the seventh floor of the castle instead.
“Periculum! Melofors! Obscu-WHOA!” Rat Face ignored the fireworks, silently dispelled the pumpkin head jinx and caught Harry with a tripping jinx just as he cleared the top steps.
“Ugh!” Harry fell and got up with a snarl. His lungs were burning but he couldn’t rest, if he stopped for even a moment he-
“Levicorpus.”
Harry skid around the corner right in the spellbolt and was promptly yanked upside down by the foot. “Wha-no, no, Fini-“
“Expelliarmus.”
Harry’s wand flew out of his hand and into his.
“No, help HELP, HE’S ON THE SEV-“
“Silencio!”
Shite.
But the Fat Rat just stared at him weirdly before turning his back and scurrying off to… to the portrait of Godric Gryffindor, what-
“Starshine.”
Nothing happened.
“Starshine!” Rat Face hissed at the portrait.
Godric Gryffindor was unimpressed.
Rat Face snarled, swiped his wand in Harry’s direction “Incarcerous!” and yanked Harry right out of the air even before the ropes wrapped around him. The man caught him in his rough, gnarly, clawed hand and dragged him to stand in front of the portrait and this was the worst time to get a déjà vu-
“Now you listen to me, Harry dear,” Rat Face said in a hideous parody of Missus Weasley mixed with Uncle Vernon. “Any funny business and it’ll be your hide. Starshine. When I take off the silencer, you’ll say Starshine and nothing else. Got it?”
Harry nodded quickly.
“Finite.”
“HELP HEL-!“
SMACK
Harry fell to the floor, his face smarting with a rapidly forming bruise. He tried another scream but he’d been silenced again. He moaned soundlessly as Rat Face hauled him back to his feet and pressed the tip of his own wand to his neck. “You get one more shot. Be grateful. It’s more than anyone ever gave me. Finite.”
Harry stayed stubbornly silent.
“Starshine, say it.”
Harry stared in Gryffindor’s eyes, not saying a thing.
Rat Face pressed the wand deeper, then snarled and threw it away, pulled out the other one he stole and hot hot IT BURNS NO STOP-
“FLIPPENDO!” “DEPRIMO!”
Rat Face threw Harry at the first spell, dodged the second -
“Slugulus Eructo!” Came Fred’s voice. “Ducklifors!” Came George. “Everte Statum!” “Protego!” Incarcerous! “Entomorphis!”
“Protego – Deprimo – REDUCTO!”
An armor shattered somewhere, but Harry didn’t hear it over the pounding in his head, he’d smacked his head on the floor and didn’t have ears for the chaos around him because he hurt and it burned and his face was throbbing and he could smell pork-
Godric Gryffindor took off his pristine red hat and threw it right at him.
The Sorting Hat dropped on Harry’s Head with a startled curse. “What the – where am I? How did I get here?”
“Ducklifors!” “Repulso!”
“Protego – EXPULSO!”
“YIKES!”
Rat Man’s spell blew up the armor Fred was hiding behind.
“Potter!” Hissed the Hat. “Can you move?”
Harry did his best to focus and nodded.
“You need to get me near your hands. On three, swing your head as hard as you can backwards. One, two, three!”
Harry threw his head back as hard as he could, then barely managed not to pass out from the stars swimming in front of him.
“Now, Potter, reach inside me. Hurry!”
Harry groaned but managed to roll on his side and squirm backwards until he found the hem and finger-crawled his way inside for – was that a knife?
“That’s right, Potter, I knew you could do it, true Gryffindor you are, the truest Gryffindor there is, now cut those ropes!”
Harry plucked at the handle with his fingers until he finally reached the blade and started rubbing the ropes against the edge.
“Obscuro!” “Reducto!”
“LACARNUM INFLAMARE!”
A giant fireball flew from Rat Man’s stolen wand and caught both twins in the edge of its blast.
“ACK! “OGH – PROTEGO!”
Harry’s bonds snapped.
“REDUCTO!”
Fred managed to shield.
“STUPEFY!”
George didn’t. He flew into the wall and crashed to the ground, still.
Harry rolled over with a groan and stared in shock at what he was seeing.
“Stupefy!”
“Protego!” Fred gasped.
The clash of spells rang hollowly against the walls.
“I really didn’t want to do this,” Rat Man whined, then his voice twisted hideously. “Crucio!”
“AaaaAAAAAGH!”
Harry grabbed the hilt, pulled the Sword of Gryffindor out of the Hat and swung it down with all his might.
“AAAAAAAAGH!”
The Rat-Faced Man fell back and down as his hand flew off in a violent spray of blood.
Harry stumbled, wiping at the blood splatter that had blinded him. The world spun around him even with his eyes closed, he felt like just one gasp away from vomiting, and the scream drowned out everything, George’s silence, Fred’s whimpers, everything but Harry’s own heartbeat and the pain.
“F-Fereul-aagh,” Rat Face whimpered as some spell or other sputtered despite that he’d just lost his wand with his hand. “Agh,” Rat Face whimpered. “Ah, oh… m-master-“ What? “Master, forgive me for I am about to sin, but I have no choice.”
Harry managed to wipe the blood from his eyes just in time to see the Rat Man holding a third wand, pale and dreadfully familiar and aimed to Harry’s right.
At Fred.
“Avada Kedavra!”
Harry didn’t think. He jumped in the curse’s path.
The world slowed to a crawl.
“Your bravery is my own,” Spoke Godric Gryffindor with his hands laid gently over his as the world almost stopped. “But your technique is not. Observe and learn now the Long Tail Guard of the Dragon.” Harry’s feet firmed, his back straightened and his arms moved on their own.
The Sword of Gryffindor cut the Death Curse in half.
The world exploded. The air blasted out with a gong. The sword flew from his hands and embedded itself in the wall tip-first, ringing sharply, its rubies gone from red to green. And Harry Potter flew back and fell to the ground, rolling to a stop on top of a hard stick he belatedly recognised as his wand.
He managed to stumble back to his feet at the same time as the Rat Man. Then he just stood there, his mind too blown to muster any thoughts anymore.
Across from him, the Rat Man stared back just as dumbstruck and something that looked bizarrely like terror.
Harry’s wand moved his arm on its own.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
“EXPELLIARMUS!”
The spells met in the middle, two beams of greed and red, and Harry heard the barest echo of the most beautiful sound in the world before his spell overpowered Rat Man’s and the strongest force of magic Harry Potter had ever mustered slammed the other full in the chest.
Rat Man crashed into the wall with a sickening crunch, fell down and didn’t come up again.
Harry fell to his knees, clutching his wand and trembling in place, his breaths fast and short, his lungs unable to fill no matter how hard he pulled in.
The Hogwarts staff finally arrived minutes later, to the sight of George Weasley unconscious, Fred Weasley trembling in agony, and a bruised and beaten Harry Potter sobbing on his knees in relief.