Harry Potter and the Unlikely Gryffindor

Headmistress McGonagall paced outside the court rooms of the ministry, Madam Pomphrey wringing her hands in distress. She was not upset about the girls going missing, rather, she was ecstatic that someone had gathered up the nerve to do something productive. No, she was nervous because it was now McGonagall's neck on the line because of the disappearance. The Minister of Magic would be fingering the Headmistress for this, and with the Wizengamot going the way it was, he could easily get the order signed to throw her into Azkaban for a long time.

Poppy would have thought that with a whole load of the Pure-blood families being fingered for their involvement with You-Know-Who, the wizarding public would be loosing faith in their leadership. But the contrary seemed to be happening. Wizards and Witches of all status seemed to be putting more of their stock in with the Ministry of Magic. Even with the passing of the Marriage Act. Poppy suspected it had something to do with the Distribution of Wealth Act, love for money blinded many people from what they would rather not know. And she knew that this was a direct political move by Voldemort himself, using his followers that had not yet been unmasked to lobby for the passing of laws that would bring the Wizarding world back to the way He wanted it.

The two witches had endured over three hours of vigorous interrogation in front of the full Wizengamot. The fact that neither woman had cracked under the scrutiny of so many accusing eyes was in and of itself a miracle. But while the court deliberated their fates, they were forbidden from leaving the Ministry. McGonagall had protested this until she was threatened with a week in Azkaban for being in contempt of court. The Headmistress could have been warning them they were surrounded by Inferi and they still would not have listened.

Over the past few weeks, the old witches hair had gone from a steely gray to a stark white, which she still wore in a tight bun perched on the top of her head. McGonagall wrung her hands as she stopped in front of the window, looking out of it as though it would tell her what was going on at her school. “The sky is getting dark,” she said to no one in particular, jolting Madam Pomphry out of her reverie.

“They sky, Headmistress? But that's,” but Poppy stopped herself. McGonagall knew that those windows were enchanted. Which meant she was speaking of something else.

“It's getting harder to tell between friend and foe, Poppy. I see He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named in every new law. I see him whispering in the ears of all those who are trying us today. I see his evil hanging over the heads of all my children,” McGonagall shook her head, taking a deep breath. “I have a very bad feeling that I should be at the school, Poppy. That something is going to happen, and I am not going to be there to help them,”

XXX

Neville shivered on his broom, wondering for the thousandth time, why they were out in this blustery weather. The wind was so strong that steering was pointless. So was looking for the Snitch. He was so concentrated on looking for the golden ball that he was caught by a gust that turned him completely upside down on his broom. Needless to say, he was not amused. Now, not only was he upside down, but the rain was pouring under his robes and streaming down the back of his head.

Neville redoubled his efforts as he righted himself, his head twisting this way and that. He wanted to get this over with so he could change out of these robes and into his bed clothes. Forget dinner, he was too exhausted, he thought to himself as he spotted a faint glow low on the pitch. He immediately gave chase as the Snitch took him through a bewildering tour of the air over the stands.

He was about to reach out for the Snitch and start his celebration, when he spotted something odd coming from the Forest. His fingers closed around the small ball just as he heard something sailing through the air. What ever it was, slammed into the tail of is broom, sending him crashing to the wet sand. He laid on his back, as he watched the boulder that had hit him, smash itself to pieces against the castle walls.

It was then that he understood what he had seen among the ancient trees of the Forest, and as he sat up, he had his worst fears realized. “Giants!” he bellowed, scrambling to is feet. He mounted his broom just as another sizable boulder sailed through the air several hundred feet away, smashing itself to bits on the walls.

Katie's head snapped toward the Forbidden forest, watching as the trees seemed to move inside the Forest. What she had thought was thunder minutes ago, was now discernible as the foot falls of dozens of Giants. Katie's heart froze in her chest. She had never seen Giants up close before, and from this moment on, she never wanted to again.

“Get back to the School,” she called, waving her arm toward the castle. She turned around, not bothering to change out of her Quidditch robes and shot off straight for the castle, the rest of the team following close behind her. As they entered the gates, they spread the word, and for the first time in many years, the gates to Hogwart's were closed and barred. “They're throwing boulders at the walls,” Katie warned as Hagrid descended the stairs.

“Giants? Can't be,” he trailed off as one boulder seemed to hit close to the entrance hall. Apparently that was all the proof he needed. “Oh,” Hagrid seemed to think for a moment as he brushed dust out of his hair. “Well then, get all the first through fifth years into their dorms,” he motioned toward a couple of second years staring wide eyed. “You two! Go to every class room and the Great Hall and tell all the teachers what's happenin',” Neville marveled at how much authority Hagrid could wield when the situation called for it. “Quick!” he added, as though the two needed any encouragement as they nearly left their shoes behind as they raced up the stairs.

Hagrid turned toward Katie, Neville and the rest of the Gryffindor Quidditch team that were sixth and seventh years. “Alright, follow me,” as they passed through the halls, the passages were clogged with young students on their way to their respective dorms, herded by Head Girls and Boys and Prefects. Professors were bustling ahead of them, skirts and robes fluttering as they searched all the class rooms.

Minutes later, more students and Madame Hooch caught up with them, all carrying brooms in one hand, and their wands in the other. For once, Madame Hooch didn't say a thing as she kicked off from the Astronomy tower's balcony. In the distance, the first of the Giants had come out of the trees, and were too busy throwing boulders to notice the group gathered in the tower.

Neville shifted from one foot to the other, gripping his wand in a sweaty hand. He nearly had a panic attack just watching the Giants move. And now he was expected to attack them? “But...but Giants are really strong! What if they get me,” the question had apparently been bouncing around in the other student's skulls, because he was answered with similar murmurs.

“They won't get you if they can't catch you,” Madame Hooch answered as she hovered in front of the balcony, her wand tapping the side of her head. “Keep yer heads about you! And mind the boulders,” she called out as she rose above the castle, waiting for the others to join her.

Neville stayed where he was as he watched the other sixth and seventh years that had a broom take off from the balcony. He continued to stare out at the Giants, his feet refusing to heed his commands. He wanted with all his being to just run back to his dorm and never come back out. But at the same time, he didn't want anyone to destroy the school. Those two thoughts did battle inside his mind as the first of the students started casting Reducto hexes on the boulders so they did little more damage than a fly would.

Finely he mounted his broom. He would never be able to look his Grandmother in the eye if he ran away. Even if he were to somehow die, at least she would be proud of him. And at the moment, her disapproval was worse than anything these Giants could do.

And so he kicked off from the ground, circling high above the tower toward where the others had spread out to meet the Giants. He saw one fall from a Conjunctivitis curse, clutching his face as he tried to claw at the cause of his pain. Another fell as his knees turned to jelly, bellowing his rage as he picked up the trunks of trees nearest him and hurled.

“Wingardium Leviosa,” and the tree stopped, hovering a mere half a meter from a small Hufflepuff seventh year's head. Neville sent the trunk down with enough force to knock out the Giant who had thrown it. The Hufflepuff thanked him, and flew ahead, throwing more spells at the Giants. Neville took a deep breath and followed, determined to make his Gran proud.

XXX

Ron shivered in the cold, trying to keep his teeth from chattering too loud, afraid they might attract unwanted attention. He had given up his robe, in his opinion, for a very good reason. In fact, he would rather be shivering in the cold than have to watch Professor Lupin shiver naked. He would chose that any day of the week. Though it did help that Hermione thought that he was being a gentleman and offering him some of her body heat in the form of a close hug. That above all was what made it worth while.

Lupin warmed his hands on the fire the four had started, staring over the crackling flames at Snape. “I don't know how to thank you, my friend,” the three students sat in stunned silence as Lupin offered an olive branch, so to speak. Severus seemed to mull the matter over in his mind for an obscene amount of time before he nodded once, accepting the apology.

“I suppose, in hindsight, I should have left a pair of pants in the room with you. The sight of you walking around with naught but your skin was a bit of a shock,” Harry snorted, remembering the shocked look on Severus' face when he saw Remus walking through the forest naked. The only person redder than Hermione was Ron. He had tripped over several rocks trying to keep his eyes from Lupin.

“What brings you back out here,” Lupin asked, trying not to notice how hard Harry was trying not to laugh. From how his life was going, however, he needed any excuse to laugh

“A young woman named Hera Malfoy. The Dark Lord used Greyback to return her to his side after we had freed her,” the dark professor was reluctant to elaborate on why Voldemort wanted her so badly. Lupin took the information at face value and nodded. He took Snape's reluctance to divulge the reason for the kidnapping was to not upset her friends.

“Would she perhaps be an inch shorter than Ron with white blond hair,” Lupin asked. He knew he had seen her when Harry's face slackened, his eyes turning to hard green points boring straight into his skull.

“Yes. That's her,” Hermione confirmed, looking at Lupin intently. “Where did you see her,”

“I vaguely remember seeing her in my wolf-form. She was being dragged into a large door by Lucius. Thankfully he closed it before I could get to them,” the werewolf sighed, sometimes he hated his wolf-form more than usual. This was one of those times. “I remember scenting something strange in the air as I tried to get in. It almost smelled like...like,” he remembered the three young adults sitting between Snape and himself, and decided being discreet was not the way to go.

“It smelt like lust. Like when a wolf is pursuing a she-wolf. Only, the female in this case was not reciprocating. But after a few minutes, her scent...faded,”

Lupin stopped, not sure how far he should guess as to what Voldemort had done to produce what he had sensed. Or even if he had to guess at all.

“The Dark Lord is an accomplished Legilimens. Almost on the level Dumbledore was,” Snape swallowed hard at the memory that name dredged up. He shook himself mentally. He needed his mind in the here and now. He sighed and continued. “He was not able to influence her directly since I lessened his hold on her through the mark. If he lets her wake before...” but he shook his head again, unwilling to divulge something so vulgar.

“Before what,” Ron asked, the cold forgotten, though his hold on Hermione had tightened. “What aren't you saying,” the three along with Lupin were staring at him expectantly.

“As the first step to achieving Immortality, he must create a Bloodstone,” Snape started, gaging how much they knew about such matters. Lupin's dark expression said that he knew far too much for Snape to simplify his explanation and get away with it. He sighed and continued.

“To create the Bloodstone, he must draw out her Maiden's blood. You are intelligent enough to figure that out without me describing the sordid details,” as he had suspected, Hermione had to explain it first to Ron, then to Harry. She only used a few words, but those few words made enough of an impact that Ron's skin had turned a sickly green, and Harry's face had hardened into a younger counterpart of Lupin's expression.

“What's the second step,” Ron tentatively asked, looking from Remus to Snape and back again.

Snape looked at the boy with such a forlorn expression, that Lupin's heart constricted in sympathy. “Second, he will use the blood of the child conceived to seal the Bloodstone within himself. And use the soul of the child to bind all the pieces of his soul in the Hoarcrux to what remains of him own soul.

Harry's eyebrows nearly shot off his face. “How many of these Hoarcrux does He have,” he asked, inching closer to the fire. “We know two have been destroyed, but where are the other five,”

Snape sighed again, looking so much older than his thirty-nine years. “He has only four. He has all the Death Eaters he can spare looking for the fifth. He would never tell me where he thought it might be hidden, but the one in question was stolen by Regulus Black some years ago,”

Harry seemed uneasy at this, at least more uneasy than his companions. “What was Regulus' middle name?” The question seemed to puzzle Snape for a moment before he replied.

“Regulus Abraxas Black,”

XXX

Teachers and students alike whirled through the air faster than Seekers flying after the Snitch. The darkening sky was alight with spells, some shouted, others not, hitting Giant and ground alike, casting eerie light in the darkness of day. There were dozens of Giants, some still throwing boulders. And some of those boulders had succeeded in cracking the outer walls of the castle. But even in the confusion of battle, there was one thing that was painfully absent.

No Slytherin was fighting with the students, even though Slughorn was throwing devastating spells of his own out into the fray. There were no green scarves. That was no surprise at all, however. The first tenant of Slytherin house rule was self preservation. Even if it meant that everyone else was killed, what did it matter to them? Add to that, nearly half the school houses female students had gone missing, and those fighting knew that there was no way they could defeat these Giants. Their skin was too thick. It took three or four students to hit them with simultaneous spells just to have a chance at maybe weakening them.

The head of the Ravenclaw Quidditch team rose above the battle to look around and gage his next move, when from out of the forest, a green light enveloped him. Like slow motion, he slid off his broom, and he tumbled to the ground with a sickening thump, his broom landing not far away.

Neville swung to a stop, hovering as his eyes followed the descent. He felt his blood chill in his veins, as he lower lip began to tremble. He knew what that green light meant. Now he really wished he had run back to his house dorm.

“Death Eaters,” and with that proclamation, the shadows at the edge of the forest seemed to separate from the trees, floating out onto the school grounds. Students started scattering in all directions, trying to get out of range of those wands. But the Death Eaters seemed to take pleasure in the scatter, their maniacal laughter floating above the roars of the giants.

“Tear down Hogwarts! Kill everything that moves,” and with that the Giants surged forth, fists pounding the walls of Hogwarts on all sides. And behind them, the sky filled with green light.