True Colors
Chapter 10: Endgame
By Anne B. Walsh
Harry crept up the steep cellar stairs, his nerves on edge, Luna in front of him, Ginny behind. Calpurnia brought up the rear, her paws silent on the stair treads.
Listen carefully, you three, she said when they had almost reached the top of the stairs. People’s lives are on the line tonight. I want you to promise me that no matter what you think is happening, you will trust me, and my husband—he goes by Caesar right now, that’s what you’ll hear him called.
"We already said we would," said Ginny through her teeth. "Why are you making us promise again?"
Because the magic on us, and the needs of tonight, mean we must do things that you may think mean we have betrayed you. That we work for Voldemort. She ignored Ginny’s jump and Luna’s cocked head. We are spies of a sort, and as such, we must make him think that we work for him.
"Like Professor Snape," Harry said. "That’s what he did at the end of the last war."
Yes indeed. Calpurnia lifted her nose for a moment. And it’s interesting that you should mention Severus, Harry. He happens to be here. If things should go badly wrong, you three, seek help from him or from Narcissa.
"Narcissa," said Luna. "That’s Ray’s mother, isn’t it?"
Yes. You’ll have a hard time mistaking her, she’s the only woman up there. Calpurnia snorted slightly. Now, Harry, Ginny, follow my lead and do what seems right. Luna, go.
Lucius Malfoy bent his knee to his resurrected lord, hearing his wife and son do the same behind him, seeing Severus doing so out of the corner of his eye. Quirrell lay unmoving on the floor beside the chair, his turban half-unwrapped and askew.
A pity he died, but I suppose most men would, if they had shared their minds with the glory of the Dark Lord for most of a year, then had it suddenly removed. He rose again, looking without outward distaste on the thing sitting in the armchair before him. This form may be unpleasant to look upon, but it is temporary. Harry Potter is here, he carries the Philosopher’s Stone with him, and once the one is dead and the other in my master’s hands...
Then the world is ours.
Behind him, Draco drew in his breath. Lucius turned and saw his son looking towards the hallway door, staring as if at a lovely vision. "Of course," the boy breathed. "Of course the door opened for you."
Door opened? I do not like the sound of that...
He turned, following Draco’s line of sight.
In the doorway stood the Lovegood girl, her dark blonde hair slightly tangled and her wide blue-gray eyes fixed on Draco. She started forward, her hands held out in front of her. Draco matched her step for step. Both of them were smiling as if greeting a long-lost friend, though Lucius knew quite well they had never before met.
And I left her tied up and locked in, along with the Weasley brat and Potter...
Narcissa’s Calpurnia backed into view behind Lovegood, tugging at a mouthful of cloth, and Lucius sighed as he recognized the basic black of Hogwarts robes and the well-worn grey Ginny Weasley had been wearing. "Caesar," he called, snapping his fingers. "Fetch the Potter boy. Your lady wife seems a bit outmatched."
His own guardian wolf slipped around him, gave a brief bow of the head in token of acknowledgement, and left the room for the hall, passing Lovegood and Draco as he did so. The two had met at precisely the halfway mark between their starting points, and were clasping hands like lovers. Lovegood’s smile was knowing, Draco’s half-incredulous.
"Now, Draco," Lucius said, getting his son’s attention. "What were you saying about a door opening?"
"Only that the Manor must recognize its future mistress, Father," the boy said, sliding an arm around Lovegood’s shoulders as he turned to face Lucius. "It refused to leave her locked up, especially when it knew I was waiting to meet her."
Lucius did not bother to hide his smile. Ever the romantic, my Draco. Narcissa must have been telling him stories again. Still, this produces an outcome I desire—as, of course, would any decision he could have made, which is why I limited it so. "May I assume this means you have chosen?"
"Oh, yes, sir." Draco stroked Lovegood’s hair with his free hand, and she tilted her head into the caress like a cat. "Will she stay with us, or go home again?"
"That depends entirely on her father’s attitude towards the new regime. For tonight, though, she will remain here. As will you." Lucius waved the two young lovebirds aside, allowing Calpurnia, her teeth fixed firmly in Ginny Weasley’s robes, and Caesar, herding Harry Potter with nudges from his nose, to enter the room. "I would have you see how wars are lost and won."
Won for us through quick and decisive action, and lost to our enemies through a lack of it. By the time Dumbledore realizes anything is amiss, to say nothing of the fools at the Ministry, the Dark Lord will be ascendant, and nothing will ever bring him down again...
You have more friends in this room than you do enemies, Harry, said a man’s quiet and confident voice, the same voice which had coached Harry through his most difficult Charms homework all year long. Keep it in mind.
Harry dipped his head slightly, deep enough so that it would register to the blue-eyed wolf walking behind him, shallow enough that it would look like nothing but a twitch to Lucius Malfoy, who stood watching with a smirk on his face.
Luna said it would hurt, but then it would be over. He clung to that as to a life preserver. I can handle when things hurt. I don’t like it, but I can do it.
Malfoy stepped forward and took Harry’s arm, flicking his fingers to dismiss the wolf. Caesar bowed his head, then turned and went to stand with Ray and Luna, who were near the back of the room clinging to each other. Calpurnia sat nearby, still holding onto Ginny’s robes, though her jaws’ grip had loosened somewhat. Ray’s mother, Narcissa, had drifted towards them, as though she wanted to be near her son or to meet the girl he’d chosen for his bride.
Which is sort of stupid since we’re none of us nearly old enough—I don’t even like girls that way yet—and what side is Ray on, anyway, if he’s talking about keeping Luna here with him—
All thought vanished as Malfoy gripped his shoulders and rotated him to face the armchair which sat in front of the fire. Professor Snape, his face impassive, turned the chair so that its occupant could look Harry in the eye.
Harry stiffened, half with pain as his scar went wild, half with the horror of what he was seeing. The thing in the chair was the size of the Meghan he remembered hazily clinging to his robes as she learned to walk, but its arms and legs were too thin for its body, its head too large, and it was covered all over in painful red scabs as though it had fallen and scraped all its skin off—
"So you dislike the sight of your own work?" asked a soft, cool voice, issuing from the lipless mouth on the oversized head. "You were the cause of my near-destruction, Harry Potter, but now you bring me the agency of my restoration. Is not irony delightful at times?"
Harry stifled an inappropriate laugh at hearing Calpurnia’s words from earlier repeated by Lord Voldemort himself.
"So to further our delight, I have decided that you shall suffer a peculiarly suitable fate." Voldemort waved one undersized hand, and Malfoy pulled Harry backwards to the corner of the hearth. A metal pole stood up from the stone there, notched shelves on its sides showing it was meant for storing fireplace tools, but no tools hung there now. Instead, a thick rope was threaded through the notches, and Harry felt the first stirrings of panic as Malfoy pushed him to his knees and tied his hands behind him tightly.
"The hereditary power of the line of Salazar Slytherin, from which I descend, is the speech of snakes," Voldemort said, caressing the wand he had drawn from a pocket of the robes that lay loose about his hideous body. "Called Parseltongue. I use it to speak to those I find useful—like you, my dear Nagini. Come, and see the boy on whom you will feast tonight..."
Harry gripped the pole behind him with both hands, trying to force his fear down, but he couldn’t stop himself from shrinking back as the biggest snake he had ever seen slithered out from behind the armchair and approached him, flicking its tongue out at him as if to taste him beforehand.
"Of course, there is always the possibility that my method of killing you will make you distasteful to Nagini. Or even nonexistent." Voldemort leaned forward, his red eyes locking onto Harry’s green. "Do you know, Harry Potter, what I shall use to kill you? Have you riddled it out yet?"
Harry swallowed twice to make sure his voice was working. "No," he said, and though his voice shook, it neither cracked nor seized up. "I haven’t got any idea what you’re talking about."
"I am talking about the power of the line of Gryffindor, Harry." Voldemort shook his head, as though he were a teacher displeased with a slow student. "You may not descend from that line, but you are certainly a worthy champion of their cause." The word was hissed in distaste. "The power of Gryffindor is control over fire. And I shall fight fire with fire. Cursed fire, Dark fire, a fire which destroys everything in its path..."
Harry glanced towards Ray. The blond boy had released Luna, who was now standing beside Ginny and Calpurnia, and knelt down beside Caesar, holding tightly to the wolf’s green leather collar. Uncertainty niggled at Harry again—Ray was a Malfoy, after all, and he seemed to be holding back one of the people on whose help Harry had counted most...
"—sure you can shield against it, Severus?" Voldemort was saying as Harry began to listen again. "I doubt Lucius would thank me for burning down his house, after he has been kind enough to shelter me in my hour of need."
"Quite sure, my lord." Snape came around to the front of the chair and dipped a shallow bow. "The magic is new to me, but I feel confident in its effects. You may notice that I shall be closest to Potter throughout—if my shield were to fail, I would be the first to know it, though surely not the last."
Voldemort chuckled. "As always, Severus, such a way with words. And what of the Stone?"
Snape came to stand beside Harry, his black eyes searching Harry’s face, as if he were looking for some hidden weakness. Harry glared back, and it was Snape who looked away first. "I shall safeguard it as I do myself, my lord," he answered Voldemort.
"Excellent." Voldemort sighed as if vexed by a trifling detail. "How tiresome of Dumbledore, to lay that one final spell upon it, that it cannot be taken from its bearer by force but must be given freely. But his magic is failing indeed, for his criterion for deciding whether or not it is ‘given freely’ is whether or not the Stone’s current possessor puts up resistance..."
"And a corpse resists nothing," Malfoy finished, chuckling. "My lord, with your permission, I shall withdraw a short way—not that I do not trust Severus, but I should prefer to share this greatest of moments with my wife and son."
Voldemort waved a hand, and Malfoy crossed the room to stand beside Narcissa, who was watching Professor Snape closely. Luna had her arms around Ginny, who knelt beside Calpurnia, leaning into the wolf, her hands knotted around two handfuls of fur at the back of Calpurnia’s neck, the only interruption in an otherwise smooth sweep of grey.
"I thought you might want to know, Harry," Voldemort said, snapping Harry’s eyes back to him. "If it should happen, as seems likely enough, that your body is too burned to be of use to my darling Nagini, little Ginny will take your place." He laughed again, softly. "How fitting that her body and her soul should both be used to the same purpose."
Harry clenched his fists around the metal behind him and bared his teeth at Voldemort. You sick bastard, Ginny’s my friend, don’t you dare touch her...
Then the blast of fire hit him, and all he could do was scream.
Sirius stiffened as a faint noise became audible from the distant manor house. "Harry," he said surely. "That’s Harry, someone’s hurting him, I have to—"
"Stay put," said Dumbledore, who had come up behind him without his noticing. "And I will take your wand to enforce it if I must."
"Aren’t you listening?" Sirius whirled on the Headmaster. "This is my godson I’m talking about! He could be dying in there! I’m not just going to stand here and—"
Dumbledore’s wand slashed through the air, and Sirius found himself silenced. "There is more than one life at stake here tonight, Sirius Black," the older wizard said in deadly quiet tones. "And unless I am much mistaken, most if not all of them are precious to you. Harry is enduring pain, yes. But you know in whose capable hands—so to speak—he currently rests. You know to what lengths they would and will go to keep him alive, and to ensure he suffers no more pain than he must to end this restoration of Voldemort before it has truly begun. If you wish the best possible outcome to this night, you will heed my words and remain where you are until we have further information. Do you understand?"
Sirius glared for a few more seconds, then slumped and nodded. Dumbledore removed the Silencer. "Thank you," he said. "I know what it is asking of you."
"Do you?" Sirius looked up. "Do you really?"
"I do." Dumbledore met his eyes. "Which is how I know that to stand by while one you love is in pain and do nothing, because nothing is the best that you can do, is the bravest act in the world." He laid a hand on Sirius’ shoulder. "You are a true Gryffindor tonight. And you will, I sincerely hope, have the reward such courage deserves, and soon. Wait and hope, Sirius. Wait and hope."
"Yes, sir." Sirius turned back to his post, gritting his teeth against the distant cries.
Hang on, Harry, he willed. We’re here. We’ll come for you.
Just as soon as we can.
Harry had never even imagined a human being could hurt this much. A wildcat raked its fiery claws down the line of his scar, a hawk tore it open with great talons of flame, wolves and lions shaped of fire ran back and forth inside his head—he could barely hear his own screaming over their roars and howls, but he could feel how he was tearing up his throat, the throat that was beginning to swell shut from breathing smoke—
The fire shut off, and Harry dropped to the ground, the rope on his hands burned through. His head still pounded, his throat felt as tight as a mokeskin bag, his wrists were sore and chafed, but he was alive—
"Lie entirely still."
The voice came from above him, and Harry rolled his eyes upward to see Snape looking down. "The illusion on you will work only if you can maintain it," the Potions professor went on without moving his lips. "Be silent and still until the Dark Lord looks elsewhere. Then strike."
Strike? With what? And how? Harry shut his eyes again and let himself sag against the floor. I don’t think I could move even if I was allowed...
And why do I still smell smoke if the fire’s stopped?
The high-pitched noise which had been intruding on Harry’s ears for a few moments suddenly solidified into Voldemort’s laughter. "So this is how it ends," the Dark wizard said, his voice merry. "Harry Potter, the one with the power to vanquish the Dark Lord, himself vanquished at the age of eleven. Severus, check him to be sure, and take the Stone—but no, you are tired, and no wonder, holding a shield against Fiendfyre..."
"My lord," said a boy’s voice, breathy with excitement. "May I?"
"Of course, Draco."
Light footsteps running across the room, and then hands against Harry’s chest and neck, where life still beat out its treacherous pulse. Harry lay still as ordered and waited to be unmasked.
"So, Potter," Ray said conversationally. "This is what Gryffindor friendships come to in the end." His hand slid into Harry’s pocket and removed the small item inside it. "The Stone, my lord!" he proclaimed.
But—
"Very good," Voldemort breathed. "Very good indeed."
Illusion, Harry realized dimly. If there can be an illusion on me to make me look burned and dead, there can be one on Letha’s brooch to make it look like the Philosopher’s Stone—and Ray is on my side, I knew he was, he always has been—it still doesn’t make sense, him being a Malfoy and all, but maybe someday it will—
"Keep good track of it, Draco," Voldemort ordered. "I shall use it in just a moment. First I wish to guarantee my life one final time. Severus, my chair... Lucius, the girl..." A horrid hissing noise, and Harry heard the sound of the snake Nagini slithering towards her master.
But I understood him when he talked to her earlier. Why don’t I now?
Desperate to see what was going on, Harry opened his eyes a crack. Snape was turning Voldemort’s chair a little further away from the fire, its wing meant the Dark wizard could no longer see where Harry was lying—
I think that counts as looking elsewhere.
Harry pulled his legs in and got to his knees, just in time to hear Ginny scream.
"Let go of me!"
"That was Ginny," Ron muttered. "I know that was Ginny. Someone’s trying to hurt her. Why are we just standing out here?"
Because we have to, Ron. Zelda sat very still in her place, one paw around Meghan, who was clinging to her tightly. Neville stood a few yards away with his parents, all three of them staring at Malfoy Manor. Because if we go in there now, Voldemort won’t be defeated, and my family will never be free.
"Yeah, well, if my sister dies getting your family free, I’m never speaking to you again," Ron grumbled.
If your sister dies, it will mean my family is already dead trying to help her, Zelda shot back. So I don’t think I need to worry too much.
They returned to their silent vigil.
Harry jerked around. Malfoy, his face twisted in pain, was staggering backwards from Ginny, who darted towards a small table and snatched up one of the tiny ceramic ornaments decorating it. "Here’s what I think of you!" she shouted at Voldemort, and hurled her missile straight and true. Harry heard Voldemort hiss again, and saw the red flash of scaly skin as the evil wizard dodged Ginny’s throw—
Malfoy lunged forward again and caught Ginny’s arms, twisting them behind her. She shrieked and squirmed, but Malfoy held her out at arm’s length. "Here, my lord!" he shouted, his voice still shrill with pain. "Kill her quickly!"
Harry, now! cried Calpurnia, but Harry was already moving. Dashing around the side of the chair, he stopped directly between Voldemort and Ginny.
"Nobody kills my friends!" he yelled, and pulled the Philosopher’s Stone from his pocket. "You want this? You can have it!"
And with all his strength, he flung the Stone at Voldemort, who seemed frozen in place with shock.
He thought he killed me, but here I am alive—he thought Ray had the Stone, but I do—
The Stone buried itself in a red-scabbed forehead with a sickening squelch.
And he thought nothing could ever kill him.
Voldemort collapsed against the back of his chair, his scarlet eyes already glazing over.
I guess he was wrong.
Harry went to one knee, shaking, as it began to sink in what he’d just done.
It’s over. All the stuff I always used to hear stories about—over. Done with. I’ve been a hero, and now I never have to again.
Luna was right. It hurt a lot, but now it’s finished. And I’m free...
"Potter!"
It was Lucius Malfoy’s voice, and the tone was comprised of equal parts shock and rage.
Or maybe not so free.
"Lucius!" snapped Narcissa. "Leave the boy. We have a more pressing concern."
"More pressing than the brat who has somehow cheated death and killed our master?" Malfoy returned. "What might that be?"
"Look around you," said Narcissa a bit thickly.
Harry looked up, and his eyes widened.
He’d been right to wonder how he still smelled smoke.
I guess Snape’s shield didn’t work as well as he thought it did...
The entire outside of the room was on fire. Dragons and manticores, basilisks and gryffins, chased one another around its edges, but never seemed to venture more than a few feet from the walls. Calpurnia was herding Ginny, Luna, and Ray towards Harry’s place near the room’s center, Luna already starting to cough.
I don’t think this is good.
Harry held his sleeve up to his mouth, breathing through it, and kept looking around. A serpent of fire slithered through the spot where Nagini had been lying a few moments before. As Snape came unhurriedly towards the center of the room, he pushed Voldemort’s chair backwards, and two fiery lions seized on it and began to tug-of-war with it. The turbaned body which had been hidden by its bulk was visible for only a few seconds before a flame-bodied dragon rampaged through it, reducing it to ashes in an instant.
This is definitely not good.
"Would someone care to tell me," Malfoy said through clenched teeth, "how it is that none of us noticed until this very moment that we were standing in a deathtrap?"
Perhaps I can shed some light on that, said a man’s voice, and Narcissa and Snape parted to reveal the blue-eyed wolf called Caesar. He stepped forward calmly, regarding Malfoy with detachment. And perhaps, Lucius, if you are willing to be reasonable, it need not be a deathtrap after all.
Molly cried out, pointing, and Arthur gasped as bright orange flames erupted from four points on Malfoy Manor’s roof simultaneously. Within heartbeats, an entire wing was engulfed in leaping fire.
"Now we may move in," said Dumbledore, opening the Manor’s gates with a wave of his wand. "But before we attempt any rescue, we must clear a firebreak around the house—"
"What?"
"Are you mad?"
"They’ll die!"
"As will we all, if those flames are not contained," said Dumbledore calmly. "Someone has loosed Fiendfyre, and it has gone far beyond the time frame in which it can be controlled. We must take all burnables away from the area which has already caught fire. Then, and only then, should we make an effort at rescuing those trapped inside—but I rather think, at that point, no rescue will be necessary."
"Because everyone inside will already be dead!" snapped Aletha.
"No." Dumbledore gave her a small smile. "Because they will already have rescued themselves."
Aletha stared at him, then gave a slow nod.
"Sirius, Aletha, Gerald, follow me, please," Dumbledore requested, moving off to the right. "The rest of you work your way around the house in the other direction. Clear at least four feet of earth around the house, removing anything that could burn. We will meet at the back, from whence I believe our missing ones will emerge."
"How does he know all this stuff?" Ron muttered to Neville as they followed their parents towards the north side of the house.
"If I knew that, I’d be him." Neville glanced once at the figure of the Headmaster, ghostlike in the pale pre-dawn light. "And I’m just as glad I’m not. I have enough trouble being me."
Make enough trouble, you mean. Zelda grabbed a branch in her teeth and dragged it away from the house. Though that’s really more Harry and Ray’s department than yours.
"Can you hear Ray from here?" Ron asked, uprooting the grass of the lawn with his wand in a four-foot strip and sending it sailing over his shoulder.
Oh yes. Zelda’s tail wagged. And he says things are going just fine...
"You," Malfoy snarled, staring down at Caesar. "You planned this."
Can you blame me? Caesar sat down, curling his tail around his front paws. You always knew I’d make trouble for you if I could. It’s why you laid so very many prohibitions on these lovely collars of ours. He scratched at his with a hind leg. But what one man can devise, another can find a way around.
"You call this a way around?" Malfoy stabbed a hand at the flaming walls surrounding them. "You kill me, all very well and good, you have your revenge. But you kill yourselves as well! What sort of revenge is that?"
Caesar stopped scratching and got to his feet. The revenge of those who are not afraid to die, he answered, in a tone so cold it should have frozen the Fiendfyre in its tracks. The revenge of those who would gladly die if it meant you would die with them—yes, and your precious reputation, too!
Malfoy went paler than usual.
Think of it, Lucius. Just think. Caesar paced towards his master, his eyes glinting weirdly as the animals of flame cavorted around the edges of the room. No one knows I am here, so no one will ever know this was my doing. All the evidence will point to you. You, and you alone, will be credited with your own death, with Narcissa’s, with Severus’ and Quirinus’—I’m sure Dumbledore would be only too happy to allow the Ministry to trace Quirinus’ Portkey here, and Severus’ last use of the Floo is a matter of public record—
Ray was on one knee, his arms around Luna and his eyes on Caesar, who was circling Malfoy as though he scented blood.
And the children, Lucius, the cool mental voice went on. Yours will be the credit for ending the Lovegood family. For killing the first Weasley girl in two hundred years. And for the deaths of both Harry Potter—won’t that make a lovely headline, Boy Who Lived Killed in Malfoy Manor Fire—and of your own precious child!
Caesar’s mouth hung open in a grin, as though the thought of Ray’s death brought him fierce pleasure. Imagine it, Lucius. The name Malfoy, just another entry in Nature’s Nobility. On the list of names extinct in the male line. But wait! What is this? Why, it has a star next to it. A footnote. And in that footnote, what have we here? Of course, of course—the name of the man who single-handedly ended his own line—who killed his own family, his own son, and all because he knew too little to judge when a spell was too dangerous to try at home—
"Enough!" Malfoy snapped, but the word emerged as half a cough. "What is it you want?"
Caesar halted directly in front of Malfoy, staring up at him. You know what I want, he said softly. You know perfectly well what I want.
Malfoy glared down at him with hatred. "Never."
Very well. Caesar turned his back and walked over to the little group of children, Harry holding one sleeve over Ginny’s mouth and the other over his own, Ray letting Luna breathe through a fold of his robes. I’ll call the fire in to take them. Make it quick. One instant’s pain, then they’ll be gone. Harry can meet James and Lily at last. Luna will see Anita again. Ginny can get to know her crazy uncles, understand why Molly named the twins for them. And Ray... He glanced back at Malfoy. You’d know better than I would who’ll be there for him. If anyone. But don’t fret—you and Narcissa will be along to take care of him soon enough. Now, then—
"No!" Malfoy nearly choked on the word, but got it out clearly enough. "Don’t—"
You know my price, Lucius. Caesar turned slowly in place. Are you willing to pay it or aren’t you?
Narcissa stood silent beside Severus, watching the drama unfolding before them. Calpurnia leaned forward eagerly, her claws flexing in and out, her tail twitching wildly as though she longed to wag it but did not yet dare.
"Swear you will never tell," Malfoy said hoarsely, dropping to one knee. "Swear you will tell no one where you have been for these years."
No one shall learn it from me, Caesar said firmly. Nor from my wife, nor her sister. You have my word.
"And you have mine." Malfoy nodded. "Lead us out of here. I will give you what you want when we are all safe."
Caesar laughed coldly. Absolutely not, Lucius. Payment first. Then services.
Malfoy drew himself up indignantly. "I put my faith in your word, and you dare to question mine?"
I have lived by your side for twelve and a half years. Caesar’s silent voice was accompanied by an audible growl. I know what your word is worth. I will have my payment now, or our bargain is void.
Malfoy ground his teeth for an instant, then nodded stiffly. Caesar bounded to his side, and Malfoy placed his right hand against the green leather collar, touching two fingers of his left hand to the bracelet on his right wrist.
The collar split in the back and fell to the floor. Caesar looked down at it, and it flared up and was gone in a flash of fire. Just to be sure you don’t get ideas, he said, glancing at Malfoy. Severus, Narcissa, love, now!
Calpurnia sprang forward, bounding towards the hall. The fiery creatures parted as she approached, leaving an archway free of flame. Severus snatched up Ginny in one arm and caught Harry’s shoulder with the other, dragging him a few steps before his feet found the rhythm of their run. Narcissa scooped Luna off the floor, and Ray fell in beside her without needing to be told.
Man and wolf looked at each other as the back of Ray’s blond head disappeared into the hallway. "After you," said Malfoy, indicating the hall.
No, I insist. Caesar bared his teeth. After you.
Malfoy opened his mouth—
And a beam fell across the center of the room with a ground-shaking crash.
If you want either of us to get out of here alive, go, Caesar said testily. I can only hold back the flames, not keep the house intact. We’ll be pushing it as it is.
Malfoy was on his feet, racing for the hall. Caesar followed him, staying at his former master’s heels as closely as he ever had when compelled by the collar he no longer wore.
The battle was done. There only remained to survive long enough to collect the spoils.
Author Notes:
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