Dumbledore flew over toothed battlements, got off the broomstick, Harry landed next him only a few seconds later. He looked in all directions, no one was on astronomical tower.
“Is it really the Dark Mark?” Harry lifted his eyes to green skull, snake tongue glistening repulsively on the night sky above them. He shivered.
“Are Death Eaters in Hogwarts? How they could be… Professor!”
In the ghostly greenish light Dumbledore’s blackened hand convulsively clutched at his chest.
„Harry,“ he gasped for breath. He closed his eyes for a moment, stiff features of sunken cheeks revealed that he resists onslaught of pain.
“Sir…?”
“Go to wake up Severus. Tell him, what happened. Tell him about the cave and the Horcrux,” the Director told quietly.
The decision has been
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“I’m fine. Let’s go. I want to be through it.”
So I am nothing?, thought Harry. And whatsoever. This is weird.
“Draco, sweetheart…”
Sweetheart?!
Gryffindor laughed to himself. He couldn’t help it. He was aware of the seriousness of the situation, Dumbledore needed help, fast help, experienced horror from the cave didn’t faded yet and the Dark Mark on the sky didn’t added peace too – yet he laughed. And that was good. Because it was the last time when Harry James Potter laughed.
That voice, that annoyingly familiar female voice has finally fallen to the right memory tracks and Harry recognized her. His vision got black. Anger and hatred covered up the promise given to Dumbledore, overshadowed fear and instinct of the self-preservation. Harry slammed the door with his whole hand, it obediently jumped away and Gryffindor in rage waved with his wand.
“Expelliarmus!” he yelled.
Nothing happened, the air around hooded figures just slightly sparked.
“Potter,” said Bellatrix Lestrange.
“Stupefy!” yelled Harry again. And again without effect.
“Potter,” repeated Bellatrix