Lendoren

Disclaimer: the characters belong to Jo, the story to kelokelo, the translation to septentrion and the betaing to vonHardenberg. He's done an amazing job of correcting my mistakes. Any remaining one is mine.

For those who know the French version: from now on, you’ll find the story to be quite different from the original. Kelokelo has been very understanding of my wish to have more time for my personal life and for my own fics, but neither she nor I wanted to leave you hanging with an unfinished story. That’s why she’s kindly accepted to shorten the end of the story, which will count 46 chapters instead of the 58 of the original story. She’s warned me that her writing style may be a bit different from before as well.

Chapter 38: It’s Time to Assess the Situation

Dumbledore and Harry were among the first to react. Dumbledore bellowed in the Great Hall, “Everyone up!”.

Harry ran to the Death Eaters to stun them. He didn’t dare look where the Dictator, Hermione and his Potions teacher were. Quickly, he was joined by Dumbledore, Ron—who seemed surprised to still be alive after the powerful Cruciatus he had had to endure—and Ginny, who had emerged from under the Invisibility Cloak. They embraced each other, all the more heartily when Dumbledore told them, “It’s over. There aren’t any more of them.”

Then they turned to the small crowd gathered in the middle of the room. The Lendoren were in the middle of it, and their faces were solemn. They moved aside to make room for Dumbledore, Harry, Ginny and Ron.

Hermione and Severus were laying on the floor, still entwined. They both looked lifeless; their skin was chalk-white and their eyes deep-set. Albane was near them and put a hand on each of them.

“I’ll call St Mungo’s,” Dumbledore said softly. “They will go first.”

“No,” Albane said abruptly. “Not St Mungo’s. They must be taken to our place at once. We have a Healer; he’ll take care of them, and we’ll help.”

“But …”

“No,” she resumed forcefully. “Only at our place will they be able to recover. Bring us a stretcher large enough for two. Do not separate them at any cost.”

She turned her head and looked up at Dumbledore straight into his eyes. “Lumina is near death. She’s holding out thanks to her link with Erwin. He’s the one who gives her the strength to live. If you physically separate them, she’ll die, and he won’t want to live without her. There’s a small chance that they may regain their forces by being at the Silvery Circle than with conventional methods. A very small one.”

Harry, Ron and Ginny watched their friend placed on a stretcher magically enlarged by Dumbledore. Just before they left, Albane told them, “I’ll personally keep you in the know concerning their welfare, I promise.”

When they were gone, Harry and Ginny suddenly felt their legs give way. Ron watched with horror as they fainted. Madam Pomfrey rushed to them to determine what had happened, while Dumbledore was on his guard in case there could still be enemies on the loose. Ron was kneeling between his friend and his sister. Madam Pomfrey abruptly asked him, “What happened to them before they came here?”

“I … I don’t know … well, not everything …”

“Weasley! I want to know what you’ve seen,” Madam Pomfrey yelled to provoke a reaction in him.

“They’d been subjected to the Cruciatus Curse,” Ron said quickly, blinking tears away. “They didn’t have strength anymore when the Dictator came up here. And … and Erwin told us to give them a potion from his cupboard…”

“Which potion, Weasley? Quickly!”

“Reve … Reve … Regenare,” Ron cried. “Yes, I’m sure, it’s Regenare.”

“But there’s no such potion, Mr Weasley,” Madam Pomfrey protested. “Come on, boy, try and remember the exact name. The lives of your friend and of your sister are at stake.”

“He’s right,” a tired voice said near them. Ron surprisingly recognised Marcus. He was wounded during the fight and was holding his bloody arm near him. “Erwin did find the recipe of that potion. It masks the effects of the Cruciatus Curse for five or six hours, but maybe the potion’s effects didn’t last as long as usual because of the exhaustion of the fight. You just need to treat them as you usually do, Madam. What they suffer from is nothing more than the classical effects of the Cruciatus Curse and other curses received during the battle.”

It was time to assess the number of the hurt and dead. They were numerous, among the Order of the Phoenix members and the Lendoren. Among the dead were several Lendoren couples they had met at the Silvery Circle, especially Vera and Oleg, who were killed by the Shadows; Professor Gryffin and his companion; Mad-Eye Moody; Professor Flitwick; And so many others.

The castle itself had suffered from the Dictator’s efforts to call the Shadows from the depths of the Earth. The Ravenclaw Tower had collapsed and dragged the students within it in its fall, including the Gryffindor sutdents who had taken refuge there. The Slytherin dungeons were full of water, and several of its students had died. Only Hufflepuff had escaped unscathed, because it was a bit further from the Great Hall, near the greenhouses.

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When the Minister for Magic heard of the extensive injuries that arrived at St Mungo’s from Hogwarts, he hurried to the castle with his personal staff. He wanted explanations from the Headmaster. When they arrived at the castle entrance, they were stopped dead in their tracks, so horrendous was the scene before them. An entire wing of the castle was missing, one of the towers near this wing was still in flames, and the water of the lake was lower by more than a meter. They looked at each other: how was this possible? Were they all hallucinating? Alas, the closer they came to the building, the better they saw the damage. They also noticed that no one was coming to meet them.
The first person they met was Professor McGonagall. She was dishevelled, limping on her left leg, clutching her wand tightly. She seemed shattered by the desolation around her.

“Minister, Sir, we … I …”

She had to stop because tears were running down her face. The Minister roughly grabbed her shoulders.

“Professor McGonagall! Get a grip on yourself! What’s happened here?”

“We were … attacked by Voldemort and …”

“And …,” the Minister cried.

“And by the Dictator, his … master.”

“Who?”

“His master. Luckily, they’re both … dead … but … our losses were … significant as well.”

“Voldemort? Dead?”

“Yes, but he was a mere pawn. I’m going to … take you to Professor Dumbledore’s office.”

Dumbledore had taken time to list the names of the dead or injured, and to send to St Mungo’s those who were hurt the most severely. He felt old and tired as he walked around the castle. So many dead, so many victims so that Voldemort would fall, and with him the Dictator. He feared that the list would grow longer as time passed. Harry himself had been sent to St Mungo’s. Severus and Hogwarts best student were in an even worse state. He pulled himself together, however, when he saw Professor McGonagall coming toward him.

“The Minister, Albus. I’ve taken him to your office.”

“Excellent, Minerva. Tell all the teachers that I’ll have to explain to the Minister about the Lendoren and about the companionship, which will probably provoke outraged reactions concerning the relationship between Severus and Miss Granger. Send me a Lendoren, if you can find one in the castle, to support me in this explanation.”

She nodded and went on at as fast a pace as she could manage in the hope of finding one of the Lendoren.

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Ron was beside his sister. He was livid. He couldn’t even rejoice in Voldemort’s death. He was much too worried about Harry, whom he had had to let go alone to St Mungo’s, about his sister, whom he was taking care of, and … Hermione. She’d pestered him since his first year, but they’d shared so many adventures, and she’d found love this year. That love was totally unexpected, of course, but it was love nonetheless, he was sure of it. He couldn’t wrap his mind around the fact that she was so powerful. Without her, Hogwarts would have fallen. It was damaged, but standing. He was dragged out of his musings by his parents’ arrival, like parents of other students. Their Head of House saw those whose children were dead. Professor McGonagall for the Gryffindors, Professor Sprout, whose House had been spared, had to stand in for Professor Flitwick for the Ravenclaws, and Professor Hooch was taking care of the Slytherins.
Ron never would have thought that he could feel so much pleasure from being suffocated by his mother’s embrace. It meant that he was alive. Mrs Weasley was surprised to feel her son to reciprocate the hug so strongly.

“How is Ginny?” Arthur Weasley asked. “Where are Harry and Hermione?”

“According to Madam Pomfrey, Ginny is well enough and she will stay in the Hospital Wing. Harry is at St Mungo’s, and Hermione … Hermione is with the Lendoren community. She nearly died with Snape, her companion …”

His voice had broken with these last words, and tears were running down his face. He was exhausted. Dawn was breaking, and he was lacking sleep. He’d been incredibly terrorised for several hours, and had fought for what had seemed to be an eternity. He broke down and told his parents everything that had happened since the beginning of the year up to the present. He didn’t omit, nor hide anything.

Mr and Mrs Weasley shared a very alarmed look.


Answer to reviews:


Anon: that should take care of the cliffhanger ... sort of.

firewall: thank your for being a permanent reviewer.


catysmom: update is every week. Thanks for keeping on reading.

sheedy: thank you very much.

firewall: I'm glad you like my other stories as well. Furry Matchmaking is currently being updated on Ashwinder, and complete on OWL, The Petulant Poetess and fanfiction. But still, this story takes me much time.

loveeyourhatee: now, you know about Erwin's fate. I hope you don't cry though, I'd rather people smile.

Citten: thank you for being such a faithful reader.

vonHardenberg: thank you for your kind remarks. Thank you for offering to beta this story and taking the time to make it better.

Ricciola: yes, French sometimes has the better of me. I try to have it beta'ed, but perhaps it isn't enough. Thanks though for reviewing.


bronte: I'll keep your advice in mind for future works. Your remarks were really helpful. Thanks for your constructive criticism, and for the review.


bronte: my dictionary says that "draught" is British and "draft" American, and I try to stick to British English, that's why I've opted for "draught".