Five Arrows – Part 3

A/N's

This chapter is presented in three parts.

The description of the crystal cave is adapted from pp 58–59 of The Crystal Cave, by Mary Stewart (1970). The cluster of blue crystals is my addition.

The dragon brooch is described in The Hollow Hills (1973) and The Last Enchantment (1979) as being made of copper, with an enamelled design of a red dragon on a gold field.

In Ms Stewart's universe, Merlin crafted a small harp to take with him on his travels. It was not described in great detail, but he did store it in the crystal cave.

† From Edwin Muir's poem 'Merlin', Collected Poems, 1921–1958

Indonesian: Membela kami! – Defend us! (On-line translator. Please note there are language variations throughout the Indonesian islands. The words may be very different on Sumatra).

Canon characters are the property of J.K. Rowling. I make no money from them.

Thank you, TeaOli, for beta-reading and advising me on the representation of nested scene-changes ~hugs~.

Disorientated, Severus kept absolutely still. As soon as the sensation passed, he opened his eyes to darkness so complete, he wondered if he only thought his eyes were open. Blinking a few times to make sure, he drew his wand.

"Lumos."

Immediately, a faint, musical sound echoed a response – a single, lonely chord. Severus positioned his back against a wall, his eyes widening as he recognised the features of the cave he had seen in the Llygad y Ddraig. Silence prevailed.

"Show yourself!" he commanded, wand poised and ready. He added wordlessly: Homenum Revelio.

Answering notes sighed plaintively through the air and faded into the shadows.

Severus tilted his head and scowled thoughtfully. "Dunderheads!" he roared.

More notes sounded this time, in a proportionate volume to his exclamation.

Severus raised his wand, recalling that his sixteenth-century ancestor had climbed into another part of the cave from a ledge somewhere...

There! At the rear of the cave, Severus spied a shallow ledge supporting a dense mass of darkness. He pulled himself up and found a round aperture just big enough to admit a full-grown man. Looking inside, he almost lost his hold. A thousand points of light pierced his eyes, momentarily dazzling him. Cautiously letting his vision adjust, he looked again and drew a breath in admiration.

This part of the cave was an almost spherical space. It was lined entirely with perfectly formed, diamond-bright crystals, whose faceted surfaces threw back the light of his wand and reflected it back and forth between themselves in a riot of glittering rainbows. In the exact centre of the floor stood a small harp – the sort a minstrel might easily carry in his pack or saddlebag. Severus deployed an arsenal of revealing charms for hidden snares and curses – but found only a harmless preservation charm of untold antiquity.

"So you are the singer of echoes," he said to the harp.

The harp's strings caught the vibration of his voice and hummed softly.

Severus eased his body through the opening, not wanting to damage the crystals which prickled under his hands and knees. Deeply set into the floor, Severus spotted a small cluster of milky-blue crystals. He moved to get a closer look, finding that one of the blue crystals had been chipped away. He produced the Llygad y Ddraig and laid it next to them for comparison. In colour at least, the cave crystals were a perfect match.

"Is this where the Llygad comes from?" he mused out loud.

The harp murmured its musical rejoinder, causing him to sit up in the confined space and focus his attention on the instrument. He ran his fingers lightly across the strings, and the harp shivered a hopeful scale which seemed both familiar and strange. Severus did not know how to play the instrument, nor was he given to singing, but he had a sudden yearning to learn to do both. Shaking his head at such foolishness, he picked the harp up and set it to one side. There was something underneath it.

He had seen it before – a small, vellum-wrapped package – in the hand of his rapier-bearing ancestor. Checking again for hidden traps – and again finding nothing – he eased the package into his hand. Peeling away the vellum, which gave up its form to centuries of slow decay, Severus' hand began to tremble. A copper brooch, bearing a familiar enamelled design, rested on his palm. Uther had scratched his hand on it, moments before he had realised that Merlin was his brother's son. Soldiers had called it a royal cipher.

Severus dropped the brooch, flinching as it skittered over the crystal floor and came to rest against his boot. A half-remembered poem from his student days surfaced like an incantation:

O Merlin in your crystal cave

Deep in the diamond of the day...†

Severus gasped, looking around in trepidation. His thoughts automatically, inexorably, slid into place: a boy called Myrddin, whose description matched that of the boy he had seen in the outer cave; the visions he had seen in the Llygad's depths which proved that the boy was indeed Merlin himself; the blue crystals which matched the Llygad y Ddraig; a statue of the god Myrddin standing as a connection between the home of the Prince ancestors and... a crystal cave; a royal insignia worn by Merlin and replicated – above the fireplace in the home where those whose blood flowed in his veins had once walked...

Severus clenched his teeth and shook his head. This cannot be...

Myrddin Emrys, illegitimate son of the magically gifted Princess Niniane and Ambrosius Aurelianus – the Muggle warrior who would become Britain's first High King. Prince Merlinus Ambrosius. Merlinus Ambrosius...

Overwhelmed, Severus pulled his knees to his chest and attempted to bring his mind back from the brink of absurdity. I am delusional, or dreaming, he thought. He focussed on the shimmering crystals lining the roof. A sharp pain lanced behind his eyes, and he felt the Llygad grow unnaturally warm...

In crystalline pinpoints of light, a red dragon hovered with its mouth open in a roar of defiance. Oriens lay face-down on cold flagstones, motionless, with his left leg at a torturous angle. Aurors Tyburn and Savage – bound, gagged, and blindfolded. Auror Derwent stared into space with the blank eyes of a Dementor's victim. Hermione, her eyes wide with fear and rage, struggled against binding ropes.

A sense of danger rippled through his skin.

Without thinking, Severus snatched up the brooch and shoved it into his pocket. Using his power of flight, he launched himself out of the crystal cave and landed on his feet in the middle of the outer cavern. His wand-light shone like a beacon as he searched for a way out. In a protected nook near the sealed entrance, he spotted another statue of Myrddin. In a slightly better state of preservation, the statue's right hand was held out. A stone cup lay at its feet.

"Aguamenti!" Wrapping the Llygad's silver chain around his wrist, Severus filled the cup, took a mouthful and poured the rest out for the god. He placed the crystal disc in the god's hand.

He was back in the small room. The sense of danger increased exponentially as he caught his balance and his bearings. He held his tongue between his teeth to stop himself from calling Hermione's name. Moving stealthily, he exited the room and looked around. He could smell fear. His wand hand moved of its own accord...

"Sev'rus!"

...and he only just stopped himself from firing a Stunning Spell. Instead, he cast Homenum Revelio for the second time that day. Tobias emerged from a narrow gap between a wall and a pile of rubble. Severus could see the man was utterly terrified. He seized the Muggle by the scruff and dragged him into one of the passages leading to the ruins of the kitchens.

"What happened?" he hissed with more savagery than he intended.

"I didn't see what 'appened, but it all 'appened at once. There was a blast – an explosion – then someone starts callin' yer name. Said they'd done Oriens and Derwent like a... like a... Thestral's dinner. Yer lass dropped one of those charm things on me and told me to stay put and stay quiet. Then she went out to sneak a look around the corner..." Toby seized his son by the front of his coat. "They got 'er, Sev'rus. And Savage. Don't know about Tyburn. It got real cold and dim. There was somethin' wanderin' about. I couldn't see it, but I think it was the same thing Oriens snared back at St Mungo's. Yer lass is alive. I 'eard 'er callin' out: 'Six wizards against one witch? Brave lot, aren't you? Untie me and duel me one at a time.'" Toby shivered. "One of 'em was sayin'... they'll torture 'er. One of 'em said so – the one t'others called 'Arawn'. Seems there's somethin' 'e wants you to do."

Severus gripped his father's shoulder while considering Hermione's communication. By taunting her captors, she had managed to relay information to Tobias in the hope that he could pass it on. And so he had. "Listen," he said, taking the Llygad and pressing it into Tobias' hands. "Take this and get out. Follow the culvert to that stand of woodland over there." He pointed to indicate the path he referred to. "Keep under the trees and make for the forest. Keep moving. Just keep moving." Severus cast a Disillusionment Charm over himself and Tobias, then shoved him towards the culvert. "Go!"

Severus took a moment to give Tobias enough time to make his way into the culvert and get safely out of range. He ground his teeth and carefully made his way out of the passage. It was too quiet. He searched within himself for the means to summon his Patronus.

A pebble bounced off the floor. Severus crouched and dodged. He glimpsed the ragged form of a Dementor hovering above a crumbling wall and pointing in his direction. In one movement he deflected a Body-Bind Curse and returned fire..."Expulso!" The top of the wall to his left shattered and a black-robed wizard howled in pain as a hail of broken stone bludgeoned him out of his covered position. The wizard staggered, slipped, and dropped over the other side of the wall. A dull, scraping thud rebounded off the empty walls.

One down, five to go. "Expecto... "

Severus did not even feel the Stunning Spell that caught him between the shoulder blades.

Toby moved as quickly as he dared, keeping to thickets and shadows. Timing his movement to the slow, brittle rustle of the wind in autumn-dry vegetation, he reached the forest edge and flung himself against the trunk of an ancient elm. In spite of Severus' instructions, helpless fury prevented him from going any further. He slammed his fist against the unyielding bark: the resulting surge of pain slapped him into thinking with awful clarity. The villa was ominously silent. It could only mean that Severus was also overpowered.

Toby had a choice. He could keep going and leave Severus, Hermione, Oriens, and the Aurors to their fate – but having heard Arawn refer so coldly to torture and death, he knew that if he fled, he would not be able to live with himself. The bottle would summon him, and he would willingly surrender to it. His future stretched before him in years of slow, torturous death, with an ignominious end – most likely in a gutter somewhere.

He considered the alternative. He could go back and try to create enough of a diversion for Severus to retaliate. It, too, held his death as the most likely result. At least, he thought, I would die doin' somethin'. The thought did not comfort him. He tried to rally himself. Not everyone gets to pick when and where they die. That thought made it even worse.

He shucked his jacket and placed it under the elm. The Llygad was a problem. He didn't want to risk carrying it back down to the villa. Whoever finished him off would be sure to find it. He looked around at the trees, searching for a knot-hole, a squirrel's drey, anything in which to hide the troublesome object.

A fiery flash high amid the tree-tops caught his attention. It reappeared, moving at an incredible speed. It banked and swooped towards him. Toby glimpsed wings like smokeless flames of fire, a black-jewel eye, and a long bundle held in strong claws. On a reflex, he caught the bundle as it fell towards him. Holding it, he watched as an extraordinary bird settled on a branch. It was about the size of a peacock, and its feathers glowed like embers fanned by a breeze. Toby half-expected to see the branch begin to char beneath its feet.

The bird watched him intently. Feeling a little self-conscious, Toby placed the bundle on the ground. The bird gave a lilting, musical call. Encouraged, he untied the bundle and sat back on his heels, completely dumbfounded. He reached out and lifted a re-curved bow from where it lay next to an archer's arm-guard and a quiver containing five arrows. Never had he seen a weapon so beautifully crafted. It sat in his hand and seemed to merge with him, flesh and bone – an extension of his own body. He strung the bow and cautiously pulled it to a full draw. It seemed the bow had already been trained: he felt no stress or strain in its construction to indicate otherwise.

The bird sang again, a longer melody which stirred his blood. Putting the bow aside, he examined the arrows. Toby felt his insides turn to ice. The arrows were not tournament blunts. They were tipped with razor sharp, barbed points. They were made to maim and kill. Toby had never taken anyone's life, by accident or by choice. He looked out over the silent villa. Choice, indeed.

Swallowing, he took up the arm-guard. Worked into the leather in lifelike detail, a red dragon lay coiled in sleep. With a vague thought that this was a strange way to depict a dragon, Toby ran a finger over the image. He dropped it with a stifled yell when the image suddenly stirred. Jolted by the impact with the ground, the engraved dragon sprawled clumsily on its back, quickly righted itself, then glared at Toby with severely affronted dignity.

"Sorry," Toby mumbled, picking up the arm-guard and sliding it over his left forearm. He clenched his teeth as it shrank and shifted to a snug fit. The little red dragon spread its wings and extended its talons in a brave display of ferocity.

"Alright for you, ain't it?" he growled. He slung the quiver at his side, then took up the bow. At a gentle warble from the bird, he turned to see it drop a feather and fly towards the villa. Toby picked up the feather. It felt warm against his fingers. Tucking it inside his shirt for luck, he began to make his way back along the way he had come. Emboldened by the fiery bird's parting gift, Toby decided that the Llygad y Ddraig would stay with him – Severus would thus have an easier time of finding it.

"Rennervate."

Severus blinked and tried to move. His hands were bound behind his back. He tasted the coppery tang of blood in his mouth. Hermione lay on the floor opposite him, cocooned in ropes and magically silenced. Her eyes communicated pure relief as Severus came to his senses.

Amycus Carrow leered at Severus before eyeing Hermione lasciviously. Another Death Eater stood guard over the bound witch, his mask covering his features. Severus thought he recognised him by his build and posture – Thorfinn?

Arawn paced nonchalantly, apparently quite the lord of the manor in Severus' ancestral lands. "Nice of you to drop in, Snape. Though it was rather rude of you to make one of our company drop out. To his death, that is. In response to your hospitality, I have just summoned reinforcements: Even you cannot hold off ten Death Eaters and three Dementors."

"A little careless, don't you think, to reveal your numbers so early in the contest?" Severus struggled into a sitting position, his back against a wall. He ran his tongue over a small cut on the inside of his mouth. In his experience of assessing incurred physical damages, he was essentially unharmed. For the moment. "If there is something that you want from me, Arawn, why did you not adopt a more reasonable strategy and ask?"

Arawn laughed. "We both know what is required, Snape, and we both know that you are not one to simply cooperate."

"That would depend on what is required of me. You assume that I have some knowledge of whatever it is you are planning."

Arawn held out a disc of blue crystal flanked by two silver dragons. He allowed the silver chain to run between his fingers until the object swung like a pendulum. "I am sure you are aware of what this is, Snape. And I would be most interested to hear your interpretation of that fine mosaic you have uncovered in the feasting hall."

Severus snorted. "I did not uncover it. I didn't know it was there."

Arawn grinned, an action which made his soulless eyes all the more disturbing. "It was concealed from view, the last time I was here. Mysteriously, it is revealed just in time for you to wander in and take a look at it." Arawn smirked. "And I also have this – the Llygad y Ddraig. Something that has been in the Prince family for generations. Do you know, I have heard some interesting things about this artefact."

Severus thought quickly, piecing together Lucius' warning:

"I heard them talking – Voldemort, Father, Rookwood and Crevan..."

Severus put up his Occlumency shields. Rookwood. He re-played what Lucius had heard of the conversation:

"Voldemort said – I remember it word for word: 'I will judge the time to hand it to him. I will judge when he should be told its history. I will command him to use it. Then, I will claim its power... Until then, keep the half-blood close.'"

Severus kept his expression fixed in slightly contemptuous neutrality. Arawn had taken memories from old Rookwood and then allowed a Dementor to feed on him. "What things have you heard?"

"Feigning ignorance does not become you, Snape." Arawn's eyes took on a cold luminescence, a lifeless sheen. Severus felt the same crawling sensation in his bones as he had experienced when facing Umbridge. But in Severus' opinion, Umbridge barely had two functioning brain cells. Arawn's intellect was far more dangerous.

"I have heard that the Llygad will not wake until it rests in the hand of its true owner. I note you have accessed a certain room and have, no doubt, encountered our small stone friend who – by pure coincidence – happens to be Myrddin, ancient god of high places. I look at that mosaic, and I cannot help thinking of Merlin himself, who was mentioned in Atilius' tale as being the true owner of the Llygad y Ddraig."

Arawn waved his hand. Thorfinn roughly dragged Severus to his feet. Arawn laughed. "Voldemort placed great value on this artefact – and on you: a half-blood. I came to several conclusions as to why this was so."

Yes, Riddle did say he was quite fond of Atilius. "Please, explain them to me."

Arawn gave a smile of false benevolence. It reminded Severus of Abraxas Malfoy. "Only one conclusion could stand: this artefact will only work for someone of a certain bloodline. You took Voldemort's mark and proved loyal to him – or so he thought. He was waiting for the right time."

"The right time for what, exactly?" Get to the point, man!

"Really, Snape, you are not so obtuse. It all hinges on why Voldemort valued the Llygad y Ddraig so highly. In it is a power that is contained within defences I have never encountered before. A power that could revolutionise magic as we know it, guarded behind a fortress I cannot penetrate." Arawn held up the Llygad again, his expression hungry, devouring.

By the nine books of ancient magic, he is not far off becoming a Dementor himself, Severus thought, recalling Oriens' description of what happened to souls following the Downward Spiral. "An intriguing notion. However, exploring the home of my ancestors is not mutually inclusive with knowledge of that artefact."

Arawn cocked his head as though thinking. Evidently, that was not all he was doing. A Dementor drifted in through an empty doorway and hovered in front of Hermione. "Patience, my friend," Arawn said to it. "We have not yet begun to bargain."

If Severus could have gained any pleasure out of the situation at all, it was when he saw Hermione effectively isolate her mind from the Dementor's deadly presence.

"I would not call them 'friends', Arawn."

Arawn turned sharply. "The Dementors follow my instructions; I have control over them."

"Are you sure? It appears to me, they have control over you. They are not ordinary Magical creatures: they are the forces of destruction embodied. They do not give, Arawn; they only take, and what they take, they consume."

Arawn glared at him. "I am done playing at niceties with you, Snape." He held out the Llygad y Ddraig. "Show me how it works. Place it in the hand of the ancient god and waken its power."

Severus could feel the strength of Hermione's frantic stare. He met her eyes for a spare moment, seeing her thoughts written plainly: Do not show him! Please, do not let him win.

There was nothing he could do to communicate to her what he strongly suspected and, with good reason, feared. The Llygad Arawn held was most likely the decoy his mother's brother had died with. If it was counterfeit, it would not work. When it did not work, what would happen to Hermione?

Feeling decidedly ill, Severus allowed himself to be unceremoniously ushered into Myrddin's presence. With Thorfinn's wand at his throat, he felt his hands released from their bonds. Without evident emotion, he took the Llygad from Arawn and placed it in the god's hand.

Nothing happened.

"Make an oblation and try again!" Arawn hissed, gesturing to the steadily dripping water.

Severus collected a little water in his cupped hand, drank some, and sprinkled the rest. Again, he placed the Llygad in Myrddin's hand.

Nothing happened.

Arawn seized Severus' hand. At a word, a shallow cut spread across his palm.

"Resorting to blood magic? How very druidic," Severus drawled as Arawn directed him to place a drop of blood in the god's hand and try the Llygad again.

For a third time, nothing happened.

Arawn grew pale with anger. "Why won't it work, Snape?" he whispered.

Severus felt his blood run cold. He had heard words like these before – moments before Nagini attacked. He sensed Death approaching.

With a snarl, Arawn replaced Severus' bonds, subjected him to a Silencing Charm, and marched him back out of the room. He pointed to Hermione. "Take her to the feasting hall. Make her scream. Do anything you have to do to make her beg this half-blood oaf to cooperate! You," he rounded on Severus, "may listen to the results of your hindrance from here." As the Death Eaters laughingly carried Hermione away, Arawn addressed the Dementor. "Wait outside. Keep watch. You shall have more food soon enough."

Fawkes flew swiftly towards the villa, his head-feathers lifting in anger as he spotted his quarry. Three shrouded forms defiled the air, relentlessly cold and remorseless in their hunger. The human would not be able to fight these beings. Fawkes hissed quietly. He would take care of the abominations himself.

The phoenix flew higher, his spirit calling to the watery blur marking the position of the sun. He let out a burst of song. The thick clouds parted and a golden slant of sunlight reached down towards the Earth.

Fawkes hovered in the light of life, then flew hard and fast towards his first target. Falcon-like, he folded his wings to his body and relished the cleansing rush of increasing speed. At the last moment, he threw his talons forward.

The Dementors could not sense what banished them. It came out of intolerable brightness and struck with irresistible force. In its touch was a silent song, and it burned like the fires of creation.

Crikey, it's a bugger, gettin' old, Toby complained to himself. While there was nothing wrong with his endurance, he missed the speed and agility of his younger days. Moving through a particularly obnoxious thicket of blackberries, he mentally scaled a broken wall, picking out hand- and foot-holds and places where he might have a visual advantage. He backed up with a hissed oath as he almost stood on a black-robed body half-hidden in the thorny tangles. Well, I reckon there'll be no cheek from you, he thought, grimacing as he noted the glassy-eyed stare of death and the still-bright blood hanging in sticky clots from the man's ears and mouth.

Following the route he had calculated, he climbed the wall to a long ledge and listened.

"Are you up for it, Amycus?" A sneering voice slithered through the air. "Up for a nice little bit of war heroine?"

"Only if you'll let me take my time, Thorfinn. I've seen how impatient you are."

"I'll be here till next bloody Christmas, then. How about you hold the Mudblood down and I'll loosen her up for you? You never did have the knack of getting a woman to cooperate!"

Toby tasted bile. 'Ermione! With cat-like stealth, he crept along the ledge until he reached an empty stone window-arch. Peering over the edge, he saw that he was looking into the feasting hall. There were two more black-robed wizards taunting a bound and apparently speechless Hermione. One of them wore a silver mask. With an uncomfortable prickle, he saw that Hermione was yelling wildly, but not making a sound. Eileen had used the same thing on him on the night she had made his doppelganger. Been there, done that, too.

If the wizards did not move Hermione to another location, Toby would have a clear shot at both of them. He was almost on eye-level with the red dragon in the mosaic. As he strung his bow, he glanced at the smaller version of the red beast engraved on his arm-guard. I guess this says whose side I'm on, he thought grimly.

He knew that timing would be everything. He took two arrows from the quiver. He fitted one to the bowstring and placed the other where he could pick it up immediately after shooting the first. He pulled the bow to a quarter-draw. Wait for it...

Amycus was having a wonderful time. "Hey, Thorfinn, Snape will want to hear what she has to say."

Hermione stared daggers at the masked Death Eater. He waved his wand lazily, and she was able to speak. She launched into a stream of blistering invective. As she had expected, her antagonists thought this was highly amusing. Capitalising on their distracted state, she tried to slip in a wandless Body-Bind Curse and Disarming Charm.

But Amycus was too quick for her. He deflected the attacks and retaliated. "Imperio!"

"Nice work, Amycus," Thorfinn chortled. "Now, let's untie her. Snape wouldn't want to think of his Mudblood as being inaccessible."

Toby chose the first victim as the ropes vanished into thin air. Nothing existed but the point of his arrow and the place it would strike.

"You! Mudblood! Do exactly as Thorfinn tells you," Amycus commanded.

Thorfinn removed his mask, revealing the reason why he wore it. Half of his face had been burned away, the puckered, parchment-thin flesh clinging obscenely to bones deformed by injury. "Now then, my sparky little wench." He shook off his cloak. "Come to me and..."

Hermione beheld her surroundings through a haze of contented compliance. The wizard with the scarred face had stopped speaking and dropped his mask. She wondered why, but it really didn't matter. The second wizard staggered and dropped to his knees. Her head began to clear. Amycus fell forward and lay still.

Hermione blinked and gasped, shuddering at what they had been about to make her do. Ugh!

Thorfinn collapsed with a hissing gurgle. Hermione had seen people die. She knew he was dead by the way his body hit the stone floor.

Her thoughts crowded together simultaneously: I'm free! Where is Severus? What the hell happened to them? Is that an arrow? She held the image of her wand in her mind and silently summoned it. She took Thorfinn's wand and tucked it into her sleeve, establishing that he had indeed been felled by an arrow. The missile was lodged in his neck, angling down into the right side of his chest. Only three inches of the shaft and the fletching was visible. She looked up towards an empty window, but saw no-one.

Claiming Amycus' wand as well, and noting a barbed point protruding through his back, Hermione wasted no time. She summoned her Patronus and sent it to Kingsley with a message.

Her courage soared as a familiar, fiery form streaked through the air.

Severus shivered with horror and desperation. He had heard Hermione's outburst – and that it was suddenly curtailed. Arawn noted this with a shrug of false apology. He cancelled the Silencing Charm, allowing Severus to speak.

"Arawn, don't do this..."

"All you have to do is make it work," Arawn replied mildly, juggling the Llygad in his hand. A third Death Eater had come in from somewhere and now sauntered towards Severus with his wand at the ready. Severus had seen him before but did not know him – he was one of the brutish louts common to Riddle's lower circles. There was a strict class hierarchy even within Riddle's enclave of purity. The Death Eater pressed his wand into Severus' neck – into the scars left by Nagini.

Hermione. Severus could see no other way to stall for time – but he would never reveal the real Llygad's existence. "I cannot make it work for you because..."

"Stupefy!"

The Death Eater dropped like a stone. Severus saw Arawn look up. His soulless eyes widened, and he Disapparated just as a phoenix swooped down with a shrill cry of fury.

Fawkes? But the bird was gone, and Hermione was busily freeing him. She pushed an unfamiliar wand into his hand.

"Hermione, what..."

His words were cut short as she kissed him, quick, hard, and fierce. "I love you. I don't know what happened. Help is coming, and we need to get moving."

Severus applied a Concussion Hex to the stupefied Death Eater. Even if he was revived, he would be utterly useless for the next twenty-four hours.

Concealed behind a curtain of nearly leafless ivy, Toby was glad his taste in clothes never extended to vivid colours. Then again, I s'pose they can't see me, with that delusionment thing Sev'rus did, he reasoned. He concentrated on taking slow, deep breaths. Two arrows gone. He heard a loud crack from somewhere inside the ruins. His instincts told him the next round would begin very shortly.

Arawn Apparated into the west wing, where four Death Eaters lounged on stones transfigured into armchairs, supposedly guarding two bound, blindfolded, and silenced Aurors. They jumped to their feet as he glared at them. "Signal the others," he snarled, stepping over Auror Derwent's blank-eyed body. "Let them know the half-blood and his witch have escaped with the help of a blasted phoenix. Capture them. Kill the bird." Arawn steadied himself and summoned his Dementors. After a moment, he frowned. There had been no response. He sent his signal further out. Where are they?

Toby swore and mustered his wits. Three of them came out from the tree-line. Flying. On brooms. Luckily, they were coming from the opposite side of the forest in which he had met the fiery bird. Otherwise, he was sure, he would not be fitting another arrow to his bow and selecting his next target.

Hermione and Severus flattened themselves against a wall as footsteps thundered into the east wing.

"Spread out! Find them!" Voices mingled and exclaimed in a rising babble as Arawn announced that Thorfinn and Amycus lay dead in the feasting hall.

Toby waited, staying out of sight as the three broom-riders approached. To take the first or the second would reveal his position. He would have to be damn quick to pick off the third.

"They're here!"

With the shout came a curse, which Severus caught and deflected into the floor. Moving with him, Hermione counterattacked with a Conjunctivitis Curse. Severus followed up with "Confundo!"

He took her arm. "This way," he hissed, pulling her through a roofless corridor. He looked up as a shadow streaked across the floor. Wordlessly, he cast a Hurling Hex and shielded Hermione as broom and rider separated. The broom smashed to splinters against the wall above them. The rider sailed over the wall with a thin shriek.

Toby aimed and shot, bleakly satisfied when his target reeled and sent his broom into an uncontrolled descent.

Amid the broken columns of the east wing, the meaty crunch of a body hitting stone from a great height roused Oriens into consciousness. With awareness came pain. The shattered bones of his left leg grated against each other as his muscles tensed and stiffened – the body's way of immobilising an injury. Oriens forced himself to relax by using a meditation technique to detach his mind from his physical sensations. He could hear the sounds of fighting, but knew he was too badly injured to help. He did not even have enough energy left to summon his Patronus. But there was something he could summon:

Kris. He felt the knife stir in its sheath. It slid out from under his cloak and hovered in front of him. Oriens linked his mind with the magic in the kris, giving it the means of distinguishing friend from foe. Membela kami!

Hermione skidded to a stop. "Go back," she gasped, pushing Severus into retreat as a volley of assorted hexes and curses seared into the space they had just evacuated. They turned a corner, ducked into a passageway, and nearly tripped over Alecto Carrow. She lay face-up with her broom beneath her. Hermione gripped Severus' arm and pointed. Above Alecto's body, a knife with a serpentine blade hovered. With a whirling flourish, it sped away from them and flew into another passageway.

Severus and Hermione looked at each other and ran, following the route the knife had taken.

They pulled up short at a side-entrance to the feasting hall – close to mesmerised by the sight of a Death Eater duelling with the leaping, diving knife. As fast as curses were thrown or shields put in place, the animated blade seemed to find a way around them.

Hermione parried a hex from their left and pressed close to Severus as he simultaneously cast Protego around them both. He summoned his own wand from where it lay in a corner, evidently dropped during the on-going battle with the knife.

Their attacker advanced at a run, joined by another who deployed curses from behind a Shield Charm. Without warning, the first attacker dropped with a yelp, an arrow protruding from his lower back. The second stumbled over him, and his shield momentarily failed.

Hermione pounced. "Incarcerous!" Both Death Eaters squirmed on the floor, securely bound one to the other.

From his vantage point, Toby watched as Severus disarmed the knife-duelling wizard. With the knife hovering at the defeated Death Eater's throat, Severus waved his hand, and the unfortunate prisoner was hanging, upside-down, in the air.

As Toby moved to find a way down from the high ledge, something struck him hard in his right shoulder-blade. The force spun him around and threw him back against a crumbling arch which had once supported the roof beams.

He nearly fainted from the pain which seared and burned through his body. He could feel blood running down his back. Blinking through a fog of agony, he looked down and saw a wizard in a dark purple robe standing among the blackberry bushes.

The wizard gave a mirthless grin. "Well, well. A Muggle. Who would have thought? Destructive creature, aren't you?"

Toby recognised the wizard's voice. Arawn, you second-'and arse-wipe! He swept the fifth arrow out of his quiver and somehow managed to fit it to the bow-string. He tried to draw the bow, but his damaged muscles would not respond. Another gout of blood washed down his spine, and he shook his head as his vision began to blur. Someone was laughing.

A flare of rage surged through his shuddering nerves. His sight cleared for a moment, enough to see Arawn laughing – at him. Riding the crest of his anger, Toby drew the bow, aimed, and shot.

Because of his injuries, his aim was low, but it caught Arawn cleanly in the thigh. Toby fancied he heard the solid thunk of metal striking bone.

A sound like a volley of gunshots rang throughout the ruins, immediately followed by a riot of shouting. Arawn snarled and vanished. Toby felt his knees buckle.

Strong arms seized him. Somebody was calling him. He distantly realised that he might just know who it was, if only he could remember.

Sev'rus? The name slid through his fading mind; then he knew no more.