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The Dark and Winding Path
By SSHENRY

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Category: Post-HBP
Characters:Harry/Ginny
Genres: Drama
Warnings: Dark Fiction
Rating: PG-13
Reviews: 338
Summary: *** The author has been reminded via the e-mail address on file that this story is listed as incomplete and has not been updated in over 2 years ***

"He did not feel the way he had so often felt before, excited, curious, burning to get to the bottom of a mystery; he simply knew that the task of discovering the truth about the real Horcrux had to be completed before he could move a little farther along the dark and winding path stretching ahead of him, the path that he and Dumbledore had set out upon together, and which he now knew he would have to journey alone." ~HBP NOTE: THIS IS NOT AN EXTENTION OF THE S.S.POTTER SERIES, BUT IS AN ENTIRELY NEW STORY. Enjoy!
Hitcount: Story Total: 130185; Chapter Total: 4078







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The Dark heart of oblivion; the Labyrinth is an opening onto the void, the twisted, spiraling vortex at the centre of the tempest."




~James O’Rance


 


CHAPTER TWENTY: Skirting Center


 


Harry woke up as abruptly as if someone had thrown a bucket of water in his face. It was the cold that registered first — a bone-chilling cold that set his teeth to chattering even bundled as he was beneath the heavy bed clothes. He reached for Ginny, but remembered belatedly that she had spent last night in Hermione’s dorm.


He had to give Fred and George credit — they’d tried to talk Charlie into sleeping with them in one of the empty dormitories, but Charlie, practical as always, had said that it made absolutely no sense to make the house elves do a lot of extra work by heating an extra dorm when they could all comfortably fit into one, especially seeing as that there were just beds enough for all five of them.


So, for the first time in a week Harry had found himself alone in his bed and morosely contemplating the periods of forced abstinence he’d have to endure once the new term began while Charlie regaled Fred, George and Ron with his latest dragon adventures. He couldn’t even say goodnight to her using the disc for someone would have been certain to ask him who he was talking to, or why he was talking to himself.


The Room had been toasty last night; the pot-bellied stove in the middle of the room glowing cherry red from the heat in its middle and Harry was at a loss as to what could have caused such a sudden temperature change. It was a cold that got inside him and made his skin crawl and his scalp prickle uncomfortably.


A sudden string of curses from George’s bed told he wasn’t the only one who seemed to have registered the chill. In fact, Fred, George and Ron all seemed to be stirring. Charlie, however, was still sound asleep in Neville’s bed and was snoring rhythmically.


"Why the bloody hell is it so cold?" groaned George, burrowing deeper into his covers.


"Firegout?" muttered Fred from beneath his pillow.


"Stove’s still red," said Ron groggily. He swung his legs out of bed and yet out a yelp when his feet came in contact with the stone floor. "Bloody hell, it’s like ice!" He pulled on his slippers and shuffled to the stove, holding his hands out. "It’s still hot," he said, frowning at the brightly glowing stove. "But I can’t feel it until I’m, like two a foot away."


"Needsmorewood," grunted Fred, his head still buried beneath the pillow.


"The fires in the dorms don’t go out Fred," said Harry, speaking for the first time since he’d woken up. He sat up, making certain to keep the covers wrapped tightly around his body, and rubbed at his tingling temples. "House elves keep the stoves banked all night, you should know that."


"They made a mistake then," growled Fred angrily. "Some poor dolt fell asleep on the job." With a heavy, dramatic sigh Fred stumped over to the stove, grabbed an armful of firewood and flung open the stove’s door.


The wood scattered across the dormitory floor as Fred let out a howl of pain. He was now clutching a hand which was blistering before their eyes from the heat of the stove’s door.


"Told you it was still hot," said Ron with a grimace as Fred danced around the floor and waving his hand as if he were on a parade float.


"Leme see," came a new voice. The yell appeared to have done what the cold had not and had woken Charlie Weasley.


Charlie took Fred’s hand in his, pulled out his wand and pointed it at the rawly red palm and muttered something under his breath. A thin white mist began spraying from the end of his wand, coating the burn in its cool whiteness.


"That should hold until you can get up to Pomfrey," said Charlie briskly. "Toddle on to the hospital wing Fred-o, there’s a good chap."


Fred pulled on his clothes one-handed and headed for the common room. Harry could hear him grumbling and growling at George all the way down the stairs.


"You think he’ll be all right?" Harry wondered out loud.


"I’ve had loads worse myself," said Charlie with a lopsided smile. "Don’t worry Harry, Pomfrey will fix him up in no time. Bit chilly in here, what?" he said amiably.


Harry stared at him.


"What are you, a bloody polar bear?" growled Ron, grabbing his clothes and climbing back onto his bed to dress.


"Thick skinned is all," said Charlie good-naturedly. "Eight Romanian winters will do that to you." He padded barefoot back to his bed and began to dress.


"How can you stand it?" said Ron, shivering as he pulled on his jeans and tugged his jumper over his head.


But Harry, who had been contemplating who — or what — might be responsible for the sudden temperature drop, felt his insides relax at Charlie’s words. It was just cold; nothing unnatural, nothing to get concerned about. With cold feet, but a much lighter heart, he brushed off the continued tingling that now seemed to be concentrated around the area of his scar, and he began to get dressed himself.


* * *


They met up with Hermione and Ginny (both wrapped in their winter cloaks against the chill) in front of the fire in the common room and made their way down to breakfast together.


The warmth of the Great Hall was a welcome change from the icy halls and Harry sank onto a bench next to Bill and Fleur with a sigh of relief.


"Why’s it warm in here?" wondered Ron aloud.


"A heating charm," said Lupin genially, sitting down across from Harry with a wan smile. "Flitwick tapped a couple of the house elves-"


"Tapped?" said Hermione sharply.


"For power," explained Lupin. "It’s mighty cold out there. A standard heating charm wouldn’t be enough in this weather. McGonagall asked them to perform the charm, and they were more than happy to oblige."


"Why don’t they just use the elves to heat the whole castle then?" wondered Ron, helping himself to eggs and kippers.


"They could," said Lupin slowly. "But there’s no need, not with most of the castle unused right now. "She’s authorized them to heat the dorms and common rooms — they should be back to normal by the time you get back — and if this weather persists she’ll extend it to the classrooms, but there’s no reason to overtax them, they have enough to do."


"They shouldn’t have to do anything," said Hermione with a hearty sniff.


"Hermione, look at it this way," said Bill reasonably. "It’s been almost a thousand years since the elves gave their magic over to the wizards’ control. Institutions like that don’t change overnight."


"It took four hundred yearz for my anzestors to achieve their freedom," said Fleur throatily. "Even zen my grandmozer was clazzified as a magical creature and my grandfazer had to have a lizenze to have her in ze house."


"What?" said Ginny and Ron together.


"But — he was married to her!" exclaimed Hermione, sounding shocked, but Fleur was shaking her head.


"Zey would not have been allowed to marry," said Fleur matter-of-factly. "You zaw the Vela at ze Quidditch World Cup, no? Mascots!" she spat contemptuously. "Even now true Vela are seen as little more zan magical creatures zat happen to look like women."


"Fleur’s mother can tell you horror stories about growing up as, well, as a half blood," said Bill with a humorless laugh.


"Your grandfather didn’t have to have a license for his children did he?" asked Ron. "You know, to have them in the house?"


"My grandfazer was oztracized for treating a veela as an actual person, let alone for having one in hiz bed," said Fleur with a grimace, "but hiz children were half wizard and zerefore of legal wizarding status. It upzet many people and people who are upzet can zay many cruel things."


"What those people didn’t count on was the volatility of the veela temperament," said Bill, smiling slightly.


"Even half veela are quick to anger," said Fleur brightly. "And while half veela no longer have ze ability to change zeir appearance, they do maintain many of their veela powers and will not hesitate to use zem if disturbed."


"It’s the same with elves," explained Bill. "They were always considered to be volatile, sneaky even, but they had phenomenal magical powers — natural powers — no elf has ever needed to go to school to learn how to perform a spell and so the wizards didn’t dare to lift a finger against them."


"They found a way to enslave them, obviously!" said Hermione heatedly.


"Only after the elf uprising of 1066," said Bill conversationally.


"I thought 1066 was the Norman invasion of England," said Hermione thoughtfully.


"And 1945, when Grindlewald was defeated marked the end of the Second World War," said Bill with a shrug.


"Odd isn’t it," said Lupin quietly, "how events in the Muggle world seem to have corresponding effects in the wizarding world."


"I don’t remember reading anything about the elf uprising of 1066," said Hermione skeptically.


"Well, it’s not something that’s put in your average history book," said Lupin in a reasonable voice. "Definitely one of the nastier pieces of wizarding history; not something to be proud of."


"Well," said Bill conversationally, "for nearly a thousand years the elves had lived in their own villages and communities. They had their own government — their own way of dealing with crimes — everything. Anyway, there was a division in the elfish government. A group gained power that had no respect for the way things had been done for millennia. On top of that, they were very anti-wizard."


"Anti-wizard?" said Ron curiously.


"Actually, that’s a rather mild term," said Lupin mildly. "They were determined that elves would never truly be free until they had rid themselves of wizard kind."


"Well, they were right!" said Hermione stubbornly. "They would be better off without us."


"I’m not talking about wanting to have nothing to do with wizards, Hermione," said Lupin gently. "I’m talking about total annihilation of wizard kind."


Hermione stared at him, stunned. "You’re joking," she said finally in a rather strained voice.


"I wish I was," said Lupin heavily. "But it’s true. They wiped out whole villages of wizards before the rebellion was subdued."


"But still, to enslave all elves because of something a handful did!" insisted Hermione.


"It wasn’t that simple," said Lupin with a grimace. "The wizards would never have been able to trace them if it hadn’t been for the members of the elfish government who didn’t want to follow an agenda of bloodshed. They turned the names of the rebel leaders and the location of the rebel camp into the wizarding authorities."


"Well, you can imagine. The wizards incarcerated the rebels of course, and executed the leaders, but it wasn’t enough. The rebels — or a good number of them, anyway, escaped and began to take their revenge on the elves who had sided with the wizards."


"They killed their own kind?" said Hermione, sounding astounded.


"Hundreds of them," said Lupin grimly.


"The elfish government was desperate," said Bill sadly. "There was nothing they could do. They begged the wizards for help, but the wizards had plenty on their plate as it was and unfortunately many of them thought that fighting for elves wasn’t worth the effort. In fact, many wizards thought that the unrest that was spreading across the country right then might have been instigated by the elves, that the elfish government was using the rebel elves as cover for their real agenda."


"Real agenda?" asked Ron curiously


"Subjugation of all wizard kind," said Bill with a half smile. "The wizards were convinced you see, that elves saw themselves as superior to wizards and that if given half a chance, the elves would take over.


"Finally, after several months of arguments, the wizarding and elfish governments came to an agreement," put in Lupin. "In exchange for the protection and fair treatment of the wizards, the elves would agree to give up their magical powers."


"Must be a definition of ‘fair treatment’ that I have yet to hear," said Hermione pointedly. "And they certainly don’t appear to receive very much protection from wizards!"


"Enslavement is not usually something that happens to a people overnight, Hermione," said Lupin gently. "It took nearly a hundred years before what had begun as an agreement of mutual benefit between wizards and elves turned in to the sad state you see it today. As you can see, the belief that they ‘belong’ to wizards is now so entrenched in their minds that they consider even the prospect of freedom to be an insult."


"And all because the wizards were afraid of their powers," murmured Hermione sadly. "Now they can’t so much as lift a finger without a by-your-leave from their masters."


Harry thought about this as he demolished a plate of bacon and eggs. Who was it that had told him that house elves had their own powerful brand of magic, but weren’t allowed to use it without their master’s permission?


But that wasn’t entirely correct, thought Harry as he buttered his third slice of toast. Dobby had belonged to the Malfoys, but during Harry’s second year at Hogwarts Dobby had used his magic to not only leave the Malfoy’s house, but to stop Harry’s mail, smash his Aunt’s pudding, block the barrier to Platform 9 ¾ , and bewitch a Bludger that had been the direct cause for Harry’s having to regrow all the bones in his arm.


But then again, Dobby seemed to be a law unto himself. Dobby craved freedom. He enjoyed wearing clothes and receiving wages. He had risked his master’s wrath to leave the house in order to warn Harry off of going back to Hogwarts Harry’s third year. And Winky…for all her love of Mr. Crouch, she had disobeyed a direct order and had left the tent during the Quidditch World Cup in order to stay with her master’s son.


So it wasn’t that a house elf couldn’t do magic without their master’s permission. It was more a matter of integrity. A house elf wasn’t supposed to leave their house or do magic without permission and so they’d risk everything to uphold their word. Harry supposed that before they had turned their magic over to the wizards that elves had probably maintained some sort of code of conduct where their word was there bond or some such sentiment.


"You’re awfully quiet," murmured Ginny, nudging him under the table with her knee.


"Just thinking," said Harry, pouring himself another goblet of orange juice.


"You going to miss me?" she asked teasingly.


"What?"


Ginny called loudly down the table, "Oy, Ron, didn’t you tell him?"


"Oh no! Damn!" said Ron eloquently, choking on a bit of toast. "Harry, sorry mate, mum told us last night — she’s taking Ginny and me to Hogsmeade this morning to get new robes."


"New robes?" said Harry, frowning slightly. Aside from the fact that this might very well put a dent in the plans Ginny had made for after lunch, it seemed to be pointless to buy new robes this close to the end of Ron’s seventh year. "It’s your last year Ron, we’ll be done in June."


"And with the way he’s growing the robes he has now will be up to his knees," said Mrs. Weasley who had appeared suddenly at Ron’s elbow. "Besides, if he doesn’t grow out of the new ones by the end of the school year we can alter them to fit as work robes. Time to go, are you ready Ron? And you, Ginny?"


They both nodded. Mrs. Weasley turned to go, Ron on her heels, but Ginny hung back.


"I’ll be back by lunchtime Harry," she breathed in his ear before kissing him on the cheek.


"I certainly hope so," said Harry, arching an eyebrow at her.


"Trust me love, I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Don’t forget, the password’s Lemon Bright."


Before Harry could ask her why he would need a password to get into the Room of Requirement, Ginny was gone.


* * *


Harry spent the morning in the now toasty Gryffindor common room playing wizard’s chess with Hermione and using his earring disc to listen surreptitiously to Ginny’s conversations with Ron and her mother as they did their shopping in Hogsmeade. From the sound of it, Robes were only one of the things Mrs. Weasley was set on getting.


As the hands of his wristwatch crept closer to noon Harry became increasingly restless. At the rate Mrs. Weasley was going on (chatting merrily now with the couple who ran Honeydukes) Ron and Ginny would be lucky to make it back by supper, let alone lunch.


Finally, unable to stand the suspense, Harry deactivated the disc. She’d either make it or she wouldn’t. There was no use stressing over it. He’d just go up to the seventh floor corridor and wait until she showed up, that was all.


 


* * *


Half an hour later Harry turned the last corner into the seventh floor corridor where the hidden entrance to the Room of Requirement was hidden in its blank stretch of wall. There, opposite of where the door should be, was the tapestry of the ill-conceived ballet lesson and standing in front of the tapestry, studying it as if it were an artistic masterpiece, was a slim, red-haired figure.


Ginny!


She hadn’t seen him yet, so intent was she on the scene she was studying. Harry flattened himself against the wall opposite the tapestry, treading softly, determined to surprise her, grinning to himself as he imagined her squeal of surprise when he came up behind her, unseen.


Three more steps.


Two.


Harry stopped, wincing as his scar gave a nasty twinge. What was it with his scar today, anyway? Harry blinked, trying to focus on Ginny, but he was having a difficult time of it. Something about the way the sleeves of her robes were fluttering around her — as if she stood in a high breeze — was distinctly odd, especially since there was not so much as a breath of wind in the corridor.


Robes? Thought Harry confusedly. When had Ginny changed into her school robes? Hadn’t she been wearing her cloak over jeans and a jumper when she’d left for Hogsmeade?


Ginny, still oblivious to him, reached out a finger to trace the outline of the largest troll’s pink tutu. It was only then that Harry realized she wasn’t wearing his bracelet.


This isn’t right.


His scar gave another, more painful twinge and Harry took a careful step backwards, drawing his wand from his jeans pocket as he did so. Whoever — or whatever that was standing there — it wasn’t Ginny.


Another step.


Harry reached a hand behind him for the support of the corridor wall, but what he encountered wasn’t the cool smoothness of the stone, but a rough, scaly hide that was slightly greasy to the touch.


Before he could scream; before he could do so much as draw a gasping breath, a pair of large, muscular arms had pulled him roughly backwards. Harry stumbled, tried to regain his balance, and very nearly dropped his wand as the arms propelled him through a door which now stood where there had been solid stone walls only moments before.


* * *


Propelled by the force of the creature who had thrown him, Harry fell hard against a rough, uneven stone surface and felt the skin on the palms of his hands split. His knees too were stinging and, as he leapt to his feet he could feel the warm drip of blood on his calves, but he didn’t stop to assess the damage. Wand in hand, Harry turned in a circle, braced for the sight of the beast with the scaly skin. Nothing. He was alone.


Harry had made use of the room of requirement before. It had turned into a large, well-equipped classroom when he’d been leading Dumbledore’s Army. And last year, last year when he had needed to hide his Potions book it had been a huge, cathedral-like structure jam packed full of items that people had secreted there over the centuries. This room was entirely different.


It was a huge oval of a room, at least as large as the Great Hall. Its large, domed ceiling was supported by massive pillars that ringed the perimeter of the room. The pillars appeared to have been carved out of the same rough-hewn stone as the walls. The walls themselves were lined with flickering torches that cast flickering shadows across the uneven flagstone floor. It took him nearly a minute to realize that though he had come in by what was unmistakably the door to the room of requirement, that there was no door or opening visible in the solid stone of the great, cavernous chamber’s walls.


Seeing that he was under no immediate threat, Harry drew several great, calming breaths, wiping his bloody hand on his jeans as he did so that he could have a firmer grip on his wand. As his wildly pounding heart began to assume a more regular rhythm he realized with a nasty jolt that he wasn’t alone in the chamber after all. Whoever, or whatever it was in here with him (and it sounded huge) was drawing deep, rasping breaths that sounded like a bellows.


Unnerved, Harry moved away from the wall and into the center of the room. Whatever it was must be hiding in the shadow of a pillar — probably at the far end of the room. As he moved, the ragged breathing grew louder, accompanied now by what sounded like the tick tick tick of claws on the flagstone floor. Harry’s nerves were on fire; his muscles poised, ready to spring.


Without so much as a warning, Harry felt a blast of hot air on the back of his neck and instinctively rolled to his left. Something that felt like a handful of nails raked his side and he felt a warm gush of blood.


Hissing at the stabbing pains in his side, Harry rolled into a low, defensive crouch, wand at the ready. But how the hell was he supposed to use it against an enemy he couldn’t see?


Close your eyes Harry. Close your eyes and listen — you’ll hear it coming.


"Ginny?"


Harry reached up to the disc in his ear. He’d forgotten about the disc! If he could get Ginny’s attention she could get some help — the guards — they could come find him!


"Ginny! Ginny, can you hear me?" Harry shouted, but even as his fingers touched the disc he felt his heart sink — it was turned off! He twisted it, and yelled again, "Ginny! Help me, Ginny, I’m in the room of requirement! Gin-aaaaargh!"


The handful of nails raked him again, this time tearing into his back. Harry staggered into one of the pillars, grasping it with both hands, then aimed his wand over his shoulder, shouting "Stupefy!"


Harry twisted around, just in time to see the bolt ricochet off an invisible barrier. Whatever it was — it was shielded! This wasn’t just an invisible monster, someone was using magic!


Heartened, Harry used a repeated Relashio spell to release a continuous jet of fiery sparks. The sparks fizzled and popped against the barrier, tracking its movements. Keeping one step ahead of it, ducking and swerving, Harry wracked his brain, trying to think, he couldn’t keep this up forever. He was losing blood for one thing, quite a bit to judge from the way his vision was beginning to go gray around the edges. He had to get through the barrier.


Magic.


A magical barrier.


A magical barrier or shield would have to use a spell to keep it going.


"Finite!" bellowed Harry.


The spell did exactly what it was supposed to do, removing not only the shield the beast had been using, but the invisibility spell it was hiding behind.


Harry blinked. He’d been expecting to see a person, a Death Eater perhaps, or maybe Voldemort himself. Instead he found himself staring at a hideously mutated creature that looked as if a very tall and muscular man had been caught halfway through being transfigured into a dragon.


What the hell?


Harry slipped in something he very much feared was his own blood. He staggered and fell, which probably saved his life. The beast leapt, it’s hideous talon-fingers extended, missed him by inches, and skittered into a nearby pillar with a roar that brought to Harry’s mind the disturbing memory of the noise the Hungarian Horntail had made while defending her eggs.


Gasping at the pain, trying to ignore the feeling of what could only be shreds of skin flapping against his back, Harry used another pillar to pull himself up to a standing position.


"Sectumsempra!" Harry yelled, pointing at the mutated figure.


Red jets of light burst from his wand and hit the creature dead on. Nothing happened. He’d hit it, there was no way he could have missed at this range, but the spell had just seemed to bounce off it’s dragon-like skin.


Dragons.


If whoever this is — or was — had been crossed with a dragon, they’d probably gotten a thick, nearly spell-proof skin like the dragons at the Tri-wizard tournament. It had taken twenty wizards all working together to take down the Horntail. Giants were the same way. Look at Hagrid. Hagrid had repelled six simultaneous stunners when Umbridge had tried to take him into custody. Which would explain why it hadn’t changed back to human form when Harry had used the Finite spell; it wasn’t entirely human any more.


"Damn," said Harry quietly.


The beast’s eyes lit up with a fiendish excitement as it closed in on him. Harry couldn’t run any more, he was so tired he felt that he could close his eyes and go to sleep right here, standing up, propped against this pillar. The gray at the fringes of his vision was closing in, narrowing his field of vision until he felt as if he were looking through the wrong end of a telescope.


Harry tried to take a step backwards, away from the approaching beast, but his legs refused to obey him. Instead his knees buckled and he tumbled to the floor, landing on his back with a splash. Whatever he’d fallen in was very warm and sticky; something that smelled metallic.


Blood, thought Harry, trying to push himself up to a sitting position and only managing to lift his head off the floor a few inches. He lifted a hand that was now coated in a red sheen like a glove and held it up in front of his eyes. My blood.


A breath of hot air on his face caused him to look up. The beast was standing over him, the black, vertically slit pupils of its lizard-like eyes narrowing slightly as its great mottled head bent closer. The all-too-human looking lips curled back to reveal great yellow fangs glistening with was undoubtedly some sort of poisonous saliva.


Harry closed his eyes. He might not be able to move. He might not be able to fight, but he’d be damned if the last thing he saw in this life was that hideous creature’s mutated form. Even the back of his eyelids was preferable to what lay just outside of them.


Would it hurt? Harry wondered as the cool darkness enclosed him. Of course it would hurt, but Harry had the distinct impression that it wouldn’t hurt for long. He didn’t have the strength to hold on much longer. It would be over soon. Over . . .he’d never seen Ron, Hermione or Ginny again . . .


Harry wrenched his eyes open, startling the lizard-like creature leaning over him. Ginny! She’d never know what had happened to him! No one would know! They’d never find him, not here! No one would know where to look! His body spasmed as he tried to move, but no matter how hard he tried, his arms and legs just didn’t seem to be listening.


The beast put a claw-like hand on his middle, holding him down, holding him still, and bent over him once again. Desperate now, Harry tried to raise his wand, only to discover that it was laying in a puddle of blood just inches from his face. His mind groped for a spell — any spell — perhaps, with his wand lying so close . . .but the graying of his vision seemed to be affecting not just his eyes, but his entire brain, he couldn’t think! No spells were coming to mind. He couldn’t remember a single one!


A lone tear traced its way down Harry’s cheek as he realized that this was it. This was the end. Not only would he never see those he cared about again, not only would they never know what had happened to him, but he hadn’t expected it to end like this! He’d at least hoped to go out in a blaze of glory — hand to hand combat with Voldemort himself perhaps, not pinned to the floor by some mutated minion!


"Damn," Harry said quietly as he felt the tips of the creature’s claws sink into his middle. "Get it over with, would you?" he croaked, and was more than a little surprised when the beast released him; released him and then sprang over him towards something beyond Harry’s field of vision with another dragon-like roar.


Not that it mattered. The darkness took him, leaving only his pain; his pain and the sound of the beast’s vicious snarls and then a voice — a voice filled with hatred, a voice dripping with venom and barely repressed rage cried out, "Avada Kedavra!"


Harry barely had time to register his surprise at the fact that this was the first time he’d heard the beast speak before a rushing sound filled his ears and he found himself engulfed in a burst of green light that was visible even through his closed eyelids.. Then there was no more pain, just a crushing weight and finally, as if from a great distance, came the unmistakable sound of phoenix song.



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