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Author: Delfino Story: The Invasion Rating: Young Teens Status: WIP Reviews: 10 Words: 40,666
Harry walked slowly through the shadowed corridors, making sure that his invisibility cloak was wrapped tightly around him and his footsteps were silent and smooth. He passed the occasional Death Eater patrolling the hallways, but he slipped past them before they could investigate the source of an invisible breathing creature. Walking down the third corridor, Harry’s pace quickened as the statue of the one-eyed witch loomed out of the shadows. Could he do this? Could he finally break free of this hell-ridden castle? He approached the statue, a new hope blazing inside of him and the need to talk with someone who understood what he was feeling grew stronger. “Dissindium!” he whispered. The hump opened and he crawled inside, ducking his head and illuminating his wand so he could see. A dark form shifted slightly. Black eyes glittered curiously. “Harry?” inquired the quiet voice of a familiar Slytherin. Harry breathed a sigh of relief. “Blaise,” he exhaled. “Thank Merlin you’re here.” He stepped forward. The sound of a match being struck brought candlelight through the dark tunnel. Blaise Zabini pushed his dark hair out of his face and smiled at his ally. “What’s wrong?” he said quietly. “You never risk my exposure, Harry, unless it’s extremely important.” “It is extremely important,” Harry said in a hushed whisper. “I’ve decided. I’m going to do it. I’m going to start the rebellion, I just need some help.” he looked pleadingly at him. Blaise sighed. “Harry, you know I’d love to help, but I can’t blow my cover. Pettigrew already suspects me of being a spy and if any information leaked, I’d be the first one he’d get rid of.” Harry groaned and dug his fingernails into his palm. A raging fight of frustration coursed through him, wishing that there was some way....He had thought Blaise would be able to give him the clues he needed. Instead, he’d been severely disappointed. “It’s just that...well, I’ve been thinking—” he started. “Hold on, let me take a second to process that. You’ve been thinking?” “Shut up, Blaise,” Harry said good-naturedly. “My point is that I need some inside information. With that, I can make a plan. Without it.....” “You’re doomed,” Blaise finished for him. “Yeah, I know. To tell you the truth, I don’t know very much.” he bit his lip and thought for a moment. “Unless.....” “Unless what?” Harry asked eagerly. Blaise looked uncomfortably at Harry’s face, shining with anticipation. Could he really send his friend to his death? He had survived so much; maybe he’d be lucky again. “All right, listen up,” Blaise said, lowering his voice even though there was no need. Harry leaned forward to hear him better. “We, that is, the Death Eaters appear to never leave the school grounds or Hogsmeade, correct?” Harry shrugged. “Well, the real truth is that we—they do leave. For very long periods of time, in fact. And London is usually where they go. If you could somehow break through the magical barrier, I’m sure you would be able to get help.” he grimaced. “Look, I’m telling you this as an informant: I think there is a possibility of reaching London and being able to bring back an army of aurors. But as a friend, I’ll also tell you that the chances that you’d survive are pretty slim. And I know that none of the students here would appreciate you dieing.” Harry ignored him. London. That’s where Ginny now worked. If he could get to her, before he had to return to Hogwarts and possibly never leave, he’d be able to tell her one last time how much he loved her. To see her face, brown eyes pools of mystery and that unbreakable energy that sparked through her soul.....He would do anything to see her. Anything. “Harry did you hear me? You could die. There’s a very big chance that we would—I mean, that the Death Eaters would kill you. While you’re still in Hogwarts they’ll keep you alive because they think you have information. But if you try to escape, they won’t hesitate in getting rid of you.” When Harry didn’t respond, Blaise frowned and waved a hand in front of his face. “Hello? Earth to Harry! We’re talking about death here!” He would see her… see Ginny. To be free and tell her how much he regretted that night on the train… He would do anything to speak with her, just for a moment. Could he do it though? Could he get through danger itself to make it out of Hogwarts and not only save them all, but to reach Ginny Weasley before the Death Eaters caught him? It would be the most certain, painful death anyone could imagine if he got caught. “Just give me the information.” Harry said. ~**~ A hundred miles away, Ginny Weasley stared out the window of her room. She wrapped her arms around herself as silent tears poured down her cheeks. This was a nightly routine for her. Right before she went to bed, she would cry and pray that her best friend, her brother, and her boyfriend would come back to her. Obviously, she worried for others as well, but those were the three people she cared for most, the ones loved. A trickle of cold seeped down her throat as she heard her door creak open. “Ginny?” Percy asked. He seemed so insecure, like a child who needed comfort. She wiped away her tears swiftly and beckoned for him to come in. The third eldest of the Weasley brothers approached his sister slowly; as if worried she would dissolve before him should he come towards her quickly. “Ginny, are you alright?” he whispered. He drew Ginny into his arms in a tight embrace. Silence poured in on either side of her, blinding her...the deafening silence blocking her thoughts. “Gin, say something,” he said desperately. Ginny looked up into the moonless sky and shuddered. “I miss them, Percy,” she whispered. “I miss Harry. I miss Ron and Hermione. I shouldn’t have run away that night on the train. I should have stayed with them.” Percy shook his head, “Ginny, if you were with Harry, he would give up on a way to escape. With you out here, and him there, he’ll be even more determined to reach you.” Ginny sniffed and tugged at her wool sweater, twisting her finger around a loose thread. “So you don’t believe all those lies the Daily Prophet’s made about Harry?” “Of course not,” Percy said, his voice quavering. “Harry would never ally himself with Death Eaters. He proved that to all of us in his sixth year. Especially me.” he turned away from Ginny, his guilt causing him to be unable to continue. “You know,” Ginny said quietly after a few minutes. “I have this.....feeling that they’re coming back. Soon.” she frowned. “Like a-a vision or something keeps coming to me in my dreams and I see Harry riding towards me on a black shadow.....” she trailed off and then shook herself with a laugh. “What am I thinking? A black shadow?” she let out a feeble giggle. “I’ve lost my mind.” Silence followed her words. Ginny drew in a shaky breath and closed her eyes; what would she do to see Harry again? Anything, she answered herself. She would do anything just to catch a glimpse of him. Not her Dream Harry, but the real-life Harry that was imprisoned in a magical castle with no one to be there for him. Ron and Hermione, said a small voice in her head. They were there for Harry if he needed comfort. But Ginny always offered that special kind of comfort that kept the fire glowing in Harry’s eyes. The kind of comfort that made Harry smile for no reason at all. She drew her arms closer to herself once again as she noticed Percy had released her. “Perce?” she said quietly. She turned around to find the room empty. The door was ajar with a slight draft flowing in. Ginny ground her teeth furiously. Here she had been, pouring her heart out (something she didn’t do often, as the Weasley family knew very well) and Percy had just left her. Where did he get the nerve to do something like that? He would probably go and rat her out to her other brothers, telling them what she had said. And pretty soon the whole Weasley clan would be scheduling an appointment with a shrink. Just like they had done when, after three months of fighting, the Ministry was unable to breach Hogwarts’ boarders. She had locked herself in her room for three days straight with no food and no company. She cried for seventy-two hours, finally giving up hope or any belief that they could get them back. She had then emerged from her room without saying a word and immediately enrolled in Auror headquarters. Due to the fact that the Ministry had nearly no Aurors left over after the Final Battle, they had accepted her after only one year of training. Not that she did not deserve the job. She rose among the ranks of her fellow Aurors in-training without a single complaint or fault, determined to someday free Harry, Ron, and Hermione. Her mind drifted back to Percy and her family. They had been alright so far, but with the absence of the youngest brother, the know-it-all her brother had fallen in love with, and silent yet loving Harry, her world just didn’t fit. As if without the three of them, there was an empty hole in her heart that couldn’t be filled with anything else but grief until they came back. She looked back at the open door, leading to her worried family. They did not know what she was feeling. They had never felt exactly what she was feeling right now. And right now she needed someone to lean on. Someone to catch her, to wake her up and make her see the silver lining in every cloud. A person who loved her more than they loved themselves. Someone who could save her life whenever she needed saving. But if her own family couldn’t do that, who could? _______________________________________________________________________ Deep within the dark maze of tunnels of Hogwarts, a figure sulked in the most blackest of them all. He clung to the shadows and slipped through hidden doorways until he reached his destination: small circular room lit by spare candles that had long since lost their desire to burn. The young man scowled. So this was what his life had come to. The air held in the small space was dank and chilly; in a corner stood a small mat with a threadbare blanket—worn by its use. Against the wall stood a battered cupboard filled with a small amount of provisions and beside it was a beaten chair. Hanging above the mat was a small, hand-drawn picture of a flower—the only piece of beauty trapped in a dreary prison. The picture, inevitably, cast an even darker gloom on the living space; reminding its owner of once-good times now lost. Draco Malfoy let out a groan and fell upon the mat, stretching his aching limbs until they hit the wall. Nearby, the squeaking of mice could be heard—echoing through the pipes. Feeling restless, Draco stood up and reached for the cupboard handles, drawing the doors open to reveal a stale loaf of bread and a few rotting apples. Disgusted, he slammed the doors closed again. The signs of a long winter lay ahead. Food was running low and Hogwarts seemed to be slowly decaying under the tyrannical rule of the deceased Dark Lord’s followers. Under no doubt whatsoever was the Dark Lord dead—Draco was sure of it. Yet still, his aunt Bellatrix remained determined in her search. Wormtail, too frightened to betray his master once more, supported Bellatrix wholeheartedly. And Lucius…well, Lucius was simply enjoying himself. It had been a long time since he had been able to torture muggles—but blood traitors were just as good. But for Draco, his new life was torture. Ever since the Dumbledore incident in his sixth year, the little respect he had acquired due to his father had been demolished. He was a laughing stock—if a dangerous one. Dolohov had discovered this one night after taunting Draco about his apparent failure. The Death Eater later claimed that his head had never been the same since—after Draco had finished with him. However, it was not the jeering or laughs that were directed towards Draco that bothered him. It was that memory. That memory of standing on top of the Astronomy tower with the power to kill…to murder. That burning desire to prove himself. And the way that fire of ambition had been extinguished as soon as he had looked into his headmaster’s eyes. It was not despair that he had seen. Nor horror. Not even fear. It had been pity. How could Draco have killed someone that pitied him before being killed? How could he have killed someone so amazingly powerful, yet weakened and was gradually slipping onto the ground? How could he have killed someone that was offering to help him…to save him? How? Such questions constantly echoed through Draco’s mind each day. Always uncertain. What if he had made the wrong choice? What if he was on the wrong side? What if his father was wrong about everything he had drilled into his heir’s head since birth? No, he would not think about that. Because as soon as he did, his mind would reel and treacherous thoughts against his aunt and her control over the school would begin to form. And treason was not something he wanted to be charged with. Reaching once more into the cupboard, Draco discovered a small bottle of firewhiskey. He gratefully uncorked it and took a swig, allowing a hiss to escape between his teeth. There was a reason why the drink was known as ‘fire’ whisky. He slowly eased himself into the wobbly chair and sighed, running a hand through his pale hair. Something was brewing. He had seen it in Potter’s eyes in recent days. Triumphant. Superior. In the past months that Draco’s enemy had been held prisoner in his own school, he had become meek and defeated. Draco had known that Potter had given up the moment he had first questioned him. The boy had been silent as the grave—not allowing one word to escape between his lips. All he had done was stare out the window…out into the open sky. But even the sky was not as open as it once was… Dementors now patrolled Hogwarts grounds—existing as black shadows waiting behind a cloud…ready to grasp an escaping student and suck them dry… Draco shook his head and brought the bottle to his lips once more. Potter was not the only one who despised those creatures. He glanced over at the picture of a rose he had drawn so many years ago. How old had he been? Five? Six? His father had tried to burn it. He had been angry that Draco had been drawing—let alone drawing a flower. Even as a child, Draco had been ridiculed for showing any weaknesses. Draco scowled again and turned away from the picture. He was not a sentimental fool. It would do no good to dwell on the memories of the past. ~**~ The mind is a dangerous thing. It can deceive the smartest of people and the cleverest of plotters. Sometimes this can be a good thing, or a bad thing. Each can lead to untimely consequences. So, at the moment, not only was Hermione Granger deceived, but she was also very confused. “I don’t understand, Harry,” she said. “Why on Earth would you want Ron to take Polyjuice potion so he can look like you? I’m guessing it’s not just for ‘old time’s sake’?” Harry smiled uncomfortably, “And what if I told you I couldn’t tell you?” They were in the common room. It was completely empty of sullen Gryffindors beside the Creevey brothers talking quietly in the corner. The atmosphere was tense. Harry knew that he would not be able to gain Hermione’s trust if she did not have an explanation, but he had to try. “I don’t want to be him.” Ron grumbled. Harry and Hermione ignored their friend. “What do you mean ‘you can’t tell us?’” Hermione demanded. “You just expect us to do something like that without an explanation? Are you mad?” “Maybe I am,” Harry said with a shrug. “But you need to trust me when I say that it’s too dangerous for you to know.” “He’s too short, his face is always so pale, he barely can lift anything heavy—he’s not strong enough....” Ron continued. “Shut up, Ron,” Hermione snapped. “Look,” Harry said impatiently. “I just...I need to do this. For everyone. Maybe I can find a way out of here.” “You found a way to escape and you didn’t tell us?” Hermione demanded. Harry threw his arms in the air and looked up to the ceiling of the Common Room as if in prayer. “You see? This is exactly why I didn’t tell you! You’ll go mad and start researching spells and enchantments—” “Who said anything about enchantments?” “I mean, for Merlin’s sake, he could at least work out a little and look like he was the savior of the world, instead of some small nineteen year-old—” Harry turned to Ron, his emerald eyes blazing. “What part of ‘shut up’ do you not understand? Because I’d be happy to explain it to you.” his voice low and threatening. Ron swallowed hard and winced. “Er, right mate. Remember that time in our second year? I saved you, don’t you remember? So don’t—that is—you shouldn’t talk like that. Bloody nerve-racking.” he said almost nervously. Harry grinned and shoved Ron off his seat. “Yeah, like I’d ever attack you. You’re not even worth the work.” “Hey!” “Uh, boys?” Hermione said, rubbing the bridge of her nose. “Could we focus here, please?” Ron jumped up with a triumphant smile. “Ah, yes,” he said. “As I was saying...” he cleared his throat. “As long as I have known Harry, not once have I seen him even show the slightest hint of any muscles—oof!” He doubled over with pain as Harry punched him in the stomach. “And for all the time I’ve known you, not once have I seen you demonstrate that you have any brains.” He turned back to an impatient Hermione. “When it gets closer to when I’ll be doing whatever I’m doing, I’ll tell you. But in the meantime, can I trust you to help me?” Hermione bit her lip. She hated not knowing everything. And as much as she hated to admit it, she always had a need to be informative. And here was her best friend, keeping everything from her and pleading for her consent. She sighed in acceptance. “All right, fine, but I want you to know that this won’t be a continuing process. I am the only appointed Know-it-all in this castle and I want it to stay that way.” she said with an embarrassed smile. Ron seemed to have recovered from the wind being knocked out of him and stood up with a frown. “Since when have you been an ‘appointed’ Know-it-all?” he demanded. “Since you set your robes on fire that one time in Charms,” Hermione responded smugly. She picked herself up from her chair and beckoned for her two friends to follow. The trio walked out from the common room and was immediately followed by three guards, two of their old schoolmates among them. But they gave no notice to the depressing situation. The promise of freedom was upon them. They could possibly fly like the eagles that pierced the sky, their wingtips brushing against the clouds. Nothing can stop a determined eagle with the hope of love, compassion, and pure independence remaining in the distance. Together they could succeed with triumph and unlimited possibilities would blossom before them. A common goal of freedom was all they needed as they skipped, arm in arm, down the dreary halls of Hogwarts. Students poked their heads out of classrooms and the Death Eaters behind them shifted uncomfortably as Ron began singing loudly. Harry laughed for one of the first times in months and Hermione planted a large kiss on Ron’s cheek. No one knew exactly why they were so happy; not even the trio themselves. But for some reason, they were ready to fly, take on any obstacle, and live life. They would win. They would be free. And they knew it. It was not a prediction, it wasn’t a guess. It was a belief stronger than the fullest of mountains. The hope flared higher than wind could reach. They were not planning any daring escape. They were not expecting fate to turn in favor in them. They would make their own fate, their own future. It was not a guess. They just knew. They would fly. And they would win. ~@~ A dark figure loomed towards Ginny Weasley, fighting against the force of the wind. The sound of hoof beats pounded through her ears, filling her senses and echoing throughout her mind. The figure came closer, closer— “Ginny?” Ginny jumped out of her chair, her head snapping up and eyes blinking. She rubbed her eyes and gave her father an apologetic smile. “Dad. I’m sorry. I was waiting for you to come home and I, well…I suppose I fell asleep.” She frowned. “I was having the strangest dream…” Her father’s face flickered for a moment, then returned normal. But Ginny had seen the emotion hidden behind those slowly forming wrinkles. She had seen it enough in the eyes of her brothers when she talked about rescuing Harry, Ron and Hermione. It was fear. Fear for her. Fear that she would run off and do something to get herself killed. As if she were a three year-old, liable to knock into walls like a blind bat. A flash of anger leaped through her like a flame. Was she always going to be treated like a child? “Long day at work?” She asked, forcing a fake smile. Her father seemed to relax. His briefcase was laid to the floor, his shoulders sagged and he melted into one of the chairs across from his daughter. Ginny took a quick glance at the normal clock that actually told time. It was two o’clock in the morning. She frowned and looked back at her father. “Why are you coming in so late?” she demanded. Arthur Weasley sighed, brow furrowed. “There was an occasional mishap, I suppose. Some high spirits started protesting in the city about how the Ministry was going to the dogs. That we weren’t putting enough effort into breaking through Hogwarts. They were so loud that a few muggles heard them. We had to obliviate the lot of them,” He said, waving his hand wearily. “They put up quite a fight. Had to get a few aurors to hold the chaps down.” “The wizards or the muggles?” Ginny frowned, not really caring. The flames danced like a galloping herd of horses; their hooves beating onto the crackling logs every time there was a snap and sparks flew harmlessly past. Her dream came back to her in a flash. A dark figure riding on a horse, wasn’t it? She couldn’t remember. But the eyes…the eyes of the person on the horse— Ginny let out a gasp. “—and we gave them a long lecture and a fine of thirty five galleons. Ginny, are you alright?” Ginny looked up into the concerned face of her father. But she didn’t have time for him now. She had to understand her dream. She had to go to someone who could help her interpret what she had seen… “I’m going to bed, Dad,” She said quickly, trying to ignore the guilt eating away at her at the disappointed expression on her father’s face. “Long day tomorrow, you know…” “Very well, dear,” Her father said, he too standing up. “I suppose we both should be sleeping. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Ginny rushed up ahead of her father to the stairs and reached her room, quickly snapping the door shut. She slipped into her pajamas and undid her high ponytail, allowing the tendrils of auburn hair fall gently to her shoulders. She threw back the covers of her bed and curled beneath the sheets, gazing out her window to the moonlit sky. She had to understand what exactly she had seen. Maybe it was nothing, maybe it was something. But she would never know if she did not focus her determination on figuring it out. For some odd reason, Ginny got the feeling that there was something going on—bigger than what she thought. And her dream…it was some sort of warning. She slowly drifted off to sleep while sparkling shades of emerald green danced beneath her closed eyes. ~***~
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