Chapter 6: Destruction

That night was the full moon, which Harry really should have remembered, but there was just so much work to do that it had simply slipped his mind. Luckily, Sirius hadn't forgotten, and he'd spent the night in his Animagus form curled up with Remus in his office. Harry learned this because he saw Sirius sitting next to Remus at the Head table at breakfast. It took him a moment to figure it out, and the second he did he felt horrible. He'd summoned Remus instead of Severus to help them with the Diadem Horcrux just hours before the full moon's rise, after all. However, Draco noticed he looked upset and asked him what was wrong; they had a Quidditch match against Slytherin and couldn't affort to be distracted. When Harry explained to his boyfriend, Draco simply scoffed and tugged him up to the staff table. "Harry feels guilty for not remembering about last night," he drawled as soon as they were close enough not to be overheard by the students behind them.

Sometimes, Harry thought, it really paid to have Draco by his side. Even when they hadn't been together, Draco had always been able to bring him out of his moods, and Harry had done the same thing for Draco, especially in first year. This confrontation that went directly to the point was just the latest example. When he looked up at Sirius and Remus, they were looking up at him with kind, yet exasperated expressions. Well, Remus also looked bone tired, but that was to be expected.

"Harry," Sirius sighed, "honestly. You can't think of everything, you know. Remus has told me about how hard you're working this year, with Os and Es in every subject, even Potions! Besides, you know as well as I do that with your new subjects there's an awful lot of work to do to consistently get those marks."

Harry blushed. "I know, but still…"

Sirius raised an eyebrow. Harry huffed. "Okay, fine. I won't be so hard on myself. Happy?"

Sirius simply grinned and made shooing motions back to the Gryffindor table. Harry, used to this behaviour from Sirius, simply grinned back and started walking in slow motion, so slowly that it took him five minutes to get past Remus' position, by which time said man had fallen out of his chair because of how hard he was laughing. Everyone else sat at the Head Table was also laughing, although in Severus' case it was simply a matter of rolling his eyes and sneering, while his eyes showed how amused he was.

Harry and Draco walked back to the Gryffindor table and sat down to eat. Once they'd satisfied Oliver, who'd been hovering behind them for the last ten minutes of the meal, they made their way down to the Quidditch pitch in the pouring rain and the ferocious wind. Harry was most definitely not looking forward to this match.

The team changed into their scarlet robes and waited for Oliver's usual pre-match pep talk, but all that escaped him was a strangled garble and a gulp, followed by him hopelessly shaking his head and beckoning them to follow him.

Somehow, the wind had gotten worse during the time they were safe inside the change rooms, for they staggered sideways as they walked out onto the pitch. Huge rolls of thunder reverberated over their heads, and caused them to be unable to hear anything. The rain was so thick they could barely see five centimetres in front of them; Harry was just glad he hadn't needed glasses since he'd gotten them fixed when he was ten. He had no idea how he was going to be able to see the Snitch though, unless it decided to try to fly up his nose.

By this time, the bedraggled Slytherins had made their way onto the pitch too. They'd tried complaining for a week beforehand about the approaching storm, trying to get out of playing, but Professor McGonagall had stayed firm and rebutted everything they and Snape had said. The customary hand-crushing attempts took place, then Harry saw Madam Hooch's mouth form the words, "Mount your brooms."

Harry freed his right foot from the mud temporarily, only to submerge it again once he'd mounted his broom. He saw Madam Hooch inhale and put the whistle to her lips, then barely heard the sound it made. They were off.

oOoOo

Two hundred miles to the south, two figures were stepping into a very old, ramshackle hovel, their noses screwed up in distaste. The first figure was clearly male, and had a commanding, yet secretive air about him, and the second was clearly female, with an emaciated frame and wild curls of black hair cascading to her hips. The woman held in her arms what may have appeared at first to be a newborn baby held in a swaddle of cloths, but if one were to get closer than was at all safe, the baby would be shown to be a horrifyingly mutated thing. Its body was a ghastly green colour and so very thin, for a start, then there was the fact the face appeared to have no nose, simply slits like a reptile, a lipless, violent slash for a mouth, and its eyes were a blood red and the shape of the pupils were terrifyingly reminiscent of a snake's.

"Antonin," said a high, cold voice, which came from the baby-thing. "Beware the ring has an incredibly strong Compulsion Charm. It would not do for my servant to put it on and die within a month."

Antonin bowed and cautiously walked further into the shack. There, two thirds of the way into the second room, was the Dark Mark carved into a floorboard, just as his Lord had said before they'd begun this journey. It hadn't taken him and Bellatrix very long to find the Dark Lord, and the past few months had been taken up by breaking into Dark households abroad and researching in their book collections. Finally, a month ago, they'd come across a way to allow their Master to regain a corporeal form, albeit a very limited one. They'd quietly collected all the elements for the Homunculus ritual, which included a newborn of under a month old stolen on the full moon and some forcefully taken unicorn blood.

The ritual had been a success, and the Dark Lord was fed a mixture of unicorn blood and the venom of his familiar, Nagini. Now, they were collecting the most easily-accessible of the Dark Lord's Horcruxes, which was going to be sacrificed during the next summer solstice in a ritual so he could regain the body he'd had before Potter-Black had destroyed it. After that, he would be making Nagini a Horcrux, replacing the ring.

Antonin knelt down and removed the floorboard, then gingerly lifted out the metal box that the ring was in, ignoring the Compulsion Charm as best he could. The Dark Lord had placed Muggle-repelling, anti-destruction, and anti-magic wards, among other things, around the property to prevent anyone from destroying the shack and the precious treasure it held. Once that was done, he made his way back to his companions and left with them. Antonin couldn't wait to cause mayhem and destruction once the Dark Lord was once more terrorising Great Britain.

oOoOo

Harry woke with a groan, startling the team members huddled around his bed. Well, all but his boyfriend, who had been sitting next to him on the bed, holding his hand and quietly watching him stir and wake up. He opened his eyes slowly, looked at the ceiling, then closed them again with a groan. He knew that ceiling. He was in the Hospital Wing. He heard a quiet snicker from Draco, which caused his mouth to curl up into a smile despite the pain he was feeling. Every inch of him felt as though it had been beaten to a pulp.

He opened his eyes again, and this time looked at his visitors. The Quidditch team, plus Sirius, Remus, Neville, and Hermione, were standing around his bed, the team looking just as battered as he felt, splattered in mud from head to toe, and Neville and Hermione looking like they'd jumped into the Black Lake fully-clothed.

"Harry!" exclaimed Fred, who looked very pale underneath all the mud. "How're you feeling?"

"Terrible. What happened? The last thing I remember is casting my Patronus to stop a Dementor. Come to think of it, what was a Dementor doing on the Quidditch pitch?"

The twins shot a glance at each other. "It was a whole swarm of them," said George. "At least fifteen of them. You were surrounded by them, and your Patronus failed."

"You fell," said Draco in a haunted voice, his eyes bloodshot. "It must have been at least fifty feet."

"We thought you'd died," said Alicia, who was shaking. Draco closed his eyes in horrified remembrance and buried his head in Harry's shoulder. Harry's free hand automatically came up to hold him.

"What about the match?" Harry asked, his primary confusion alleviated.

"Draco saw you fall, and raced to catch you," said Sirius. "See, Angelina had been knocked unconscious by a Bludger, and Draco abandoned the Quaffle to get you. Barely managed it, and called for a time out. Angelina woke up and insisted she continue playing, so Draco became Seeker."

At this, Harry felt Draco put something into his hand, and he looked down. In his hand, he held the Snitch. Harry grinned and kissed the top of Draco's head. "Well done! I'm so proud of you!"

Draco smiled shyly into his shoulder and lifted his head away. "Thanks. I could barely concentrate, I was so worried about you."

"But you managed it," said Remus.

Draco blushed lightly.

Then, something occurred to Harry. "What about my broom?" he asked.

The suddenly tight expressions all around his bed told him something bad had happened.

"Well… when you fell off, it got blown away," said Hermione hesitantly.

Harry raised his eyebrows. "And?"

"It… well, it hit the Whomping Willow, Harry," finished Neville. "Professor Flitwick brought it back just before you came round."

Harry could do nothing but stare in anguished silence as he reached down for a bag at his and Hermione's feet and placed it gently on the bed so he could see the mangled and splintered remains of his faithful broomstick, now nothing more than sodden kindling.