The shriek came from a lipless mouth underneath a nose that was sodden, but recognizable. Its eyes burned brilliant yellow from behind shuttered, narrow lids more like a man's than a cat's. But the thing was not a man. As it stepped forward on its lion-like paws and crouched, a scorpion's tail swiped testily through the brush behind it. It was something they had studied. Harry's mind frantically searched for its name: man's head, lion's body, scorpion's tail. His mind threw out the relevant facts Hermione had drilled into him: tail full of deadly poison, hide impervious to hexes and mouth perhaps capable of—
"Pot-ter," it croaked in hacking syllables.
Harry's wand was instantly back in his hand, but he hesitated. The creature seemed bloodthirsty, but what if he was another pet of Hagrid's? What if—
"You—die—Pot-ter," it said with the air of someone correcting himself. Then it smiled an evil smile.
Harry braced himself, then flung a strong Impedimenta curse in its direction, watching numbly as it bounced off without effect. The thing shrieked again, its face contorted into a mask of hatred. "You—will—die!" It leapt forward in a ripple of sinuous muscle.
Harry fell back, slinging a strong Reducto curse as he went that promptly bounced off its chest, nearly taking Harry's left arm. Then the thing was before him—rearing, shrieking, sharp teeth bared, claws out. Harry raised his wand and—
He was instantly ten feet to the side, feeling the impact all over, then tumbling over and over with something he couldn't even see. He landed on his back, breathless again, staring up at the cloudless sky, listening to the thing shriek and Malfoy curse flamboyantly. His broom. Harry's broom had carried the Disillusioned Malfoy with it, and they had knocked him off his feet.
"Potter, you idiot! I'm supposed to be at Hogwarts right now!"
"Why didn't you just get off the bloody broom?" Harry turned to his side, clutching at the newly-sharpened pain in his ribs. "And I'm supposed to be at Hogwarts, too!" One more move made him gasp in pain. Malfoy just had to hit him in the ribs, didn't he?
"I didn't get off the bloody broom because it was traveling too fast, you pitiful excuse for a—oh my . . . That's a Manticore. Where the hell did that thing come from?" Malfoy's voice rose steadily in pitch.
Harry looked over his shoulder to see the thing settling back into a crouch. Great. "No idea. Don't suppose you know a curse that penetrates Manticore hide, do you?"
"It's going to kill me!" Malfoy shrieked. "Look at it! It's getting ready to attack."
"If you want to keep on screaming like a girl . . ." Harry muttered. But he didn't say it too loud. The Manticore seemed disturbed by Malfoy's voice; it was shaking its head back and forth. And even more importantly, it wasn't pouncing. Yet. Harry glanced over to where Malfoy was and saw that, though dirt and dust clung to Malfoy's form, he was still largely invisible. Harry climbed to his feet carefully. "He can't see you, at any rate," He took a deeper breath, grimacing. His ribs were on fire, but he didn't think they were broken. "Maybe we can use that to our advantage."
"What?" Malfoy was near-hysterical. "You don't understand. I've—I've had nightmares about Manticores. Since I was I boy . . ."
Harry was beyond disgusted. "I thought you said you weren't scared. That there was nothing more they could do to you." He glanced around again, but the invisible broom was just that—invisible.
"I wasn't talking about WILD animals, Potter!!" The voice was aimed right at Harry now. "That thing can do a lot to me!!"
"Not—wild—animal," the Manticore growled, taking a step forward and peering in Malfoy's direction.
"Just find the broom, Malfoy," Harry said under his breath. "And keep talking." He didn't dare move. The Manticore's tail was twitching.
"Find the—find the—what? I'm not your valet, you insufferable—" and here, his language grew even more colorful. The Manticore shifted and sniffed the air. He took another step forward, his gaze set unfalteringly where Malfoy stood. Time to go.
"Accio broom," Harry hissed and held out his hand. A thunk and a loud cry interrupted Malfoy's tirade quite satisfactorily. Then the Firebolt settled itself into Harry's grip and he mounted it.
"Oh, you'll regret that, Potter," Malfoy said in a voice tinged with malice, the shifting in his voice making it clear that he was getting to his feet. "Mark my word."
"So marked," Harry said, watching the Manticore keenly. "Now get on."
"No," Malfoy said peevishly. "I don't want to ride with you."
"Then use your Portkey, you prat!"
At that, the Manticore crouched and pounced in a blur of golden movement. Malfoy screamed. He hadn't had time to get to his Portkey and Harry was already off the ground. With sudden inspiration, Harry aimed his wand down and yelled, "Serpensortia Sextus!" The Manticore was now below him, searching the ground where Malfoy stood, his tail reaching back to strike. With a long hisssssss, six snakes rained down over the Manticore, and it howled in dismay. The tail was immediately busied striking at the slithering bodies. Nearby, Malfoy was hysterically babbling, and Harry waited until his mouth sounded full. Then his voice cut off as though a door had been shut. Harry pulled up and away from the furious beast, just as the five snakes hissed in unison, "Die, Manticore, die!"
The Manticore howled in pain. Two snakes lay immobile, but the tail was not fast enough to strike all remaining four. Three had imbedded themselves in its haunches, the other was hissing around its paws. With another shriek, the Manticore fled in a ripple of fury, passing back into the dense brush beside the Shack, brushing off two of the snakes on the way.
Harry turned his broom in the direction of Hogwarts and flew as fast as he dared. That Manticore had been waiting for him. Who knew what other surprises Tom had out here? Despite himself and the pain he was fighting, Harry enjoyed the flight. His Firebolt cut through the air just as cleanly as he remembered. It wasn't until he got near to his destination that he remembered who was after him, and that Tom wouldn't have given up so easily.
He slowed as the mighty gates of Hogwarts came into view, then started violently as Dumbledore's voice came out of thin air.
"Ah, Mr. Potter, you have made it safely. Might I persuade you to fly over the lake, as the gate is under attack at present? Bon voyage!" Harry had found the small lump of wax fastened onto his broom almost as soon as Dumbledore's voice had erupted from it. Now he fought the urge to peel it off and, instead, did as the voice asked. He could just hear Hermione's voice in his head saying, "Harry! Stop fiddling with that. You're in danger!"
As he flew closer, he could see that there were several figures engaged in battle at the gates. His mouth settled into a grim line as the long line of black robes and white death masks turned his way. Shouts rang out. Harry clung tighter to his broom and veered west. Two red beams of light shot in his direction, but he swerved around them easily. And then the line of Death Eaters was scattered by a bellow of rage. Harry's head jerked to look over at Grawp who was lumbering up to the gate beside Hagrid.
Oh no, Harry groaned. Now everyone would know there was a giant at Hogwarts.
But the appearance of the giant had changed things considerably. Death Eaters were Disapparating so often that it sounded like microwave popcorn. Soon it was only Dumbledore, Snape, Hagrid and Grawp standing by the gates. Hagrid waved until Grawp flung a thick hand back to wave as well, sending Hagrid flying.
"Keep going, Harry," Dumbledore encouraged through the wax blob, "the lake is still much safer. Once you are safe inside, please check in with Madame Pomfrey."
Harry nodded and resumed full speed, heading for the body of water on the rear of the school grounds. Once there, he could see why the Headmaster had directed him that way. A full contingent of mermen and mermaids were swimming near the surface, and the giant squid had seven of his tentacles waving languidly in the air. They gave Harry just a moment of hesitation, then he flew in between the bulbous, slimy appendages that smelled vaguely of algae and moth balls. One of them waved as he went by. Harry shook his head to clear it. Then he was over the water and on school grounds. In spite of himself, he let out a deep sigh. He'd made it.
"Mr. Potter, we are making our way back into the school now and all are accounted for. The Hogwarts Express is doing just fine; Charlie has reported in safe and sound. And you'll be pleased to know, I'm sure, that Mr. Malfoy made it safely in as well."
"Oh, very pleased, I'm sure," Harry muttered.
"Good. I should let you know that it was Mr. Malfoy's timely warning that led the faculty into the stand at the gates. Had we not been there, your approach would have been much more difficult."
Harry frowned. "I'll be sure to thank him."
"Oh, good, good. He was convinced that you would be less than grateful, but I was determined to let you know nonetheless."
"Thanks," Harry said shortly, not wanting his thoughts stuck on that git. "Is everyone all right, then?"
"Yes, the Express is merrily on its way."
By now, Harry was at the back steps, lowering himself down to the ground regretfully. There was just something about flying his Firebolt. The light touchdown jarred his ribs so that they burned as he dismounted. He took in several painful breaths before straightening. Maybe he had broken something. His Firebolt . . . Harry rubbed a hand across the wooden handle lovingly. As his eyes prickled and his throat began to ache, Harry tried to shove away the thought of Sirius. But he wasn't successful, and found himself suppressing a painful chuckle at the memory of how proud Sirius had been of Harry's flying. If only things could have been normal, and Sirius could have come to see more Quidditch matches. If only he would be around this year . . .
Harry forced himself to stop. His gaze traveled the familiar dips and arches of the enormous building in front of him. So familiar, and yet somehow the building had lost a glow. Without Sirius . . . some of the magic had gone. Or maybe some of the hope Harry had been burying underneath his day-to-day actions, some of the possibilities. It was all gone. Sirius had been . . . what had he been? Harry sighed, unable to find the words. He no longer felt borderline suicidal, as he had during the summer, but his future was more bleak than it had been in years.
Harry started up the stairs with a wince. What was it that Ginny had written him this summer? It had helped every time he looked at it. She said that she had missed Sirius, too.
"Not like you do, of course, but in a breathless, pained sort of way that surprises me sometimes. He was sort of an ideal to me, and in some ways he reminded me of you."
A smile ghosted across Harry's lips and the ache in his throat eased a bit. He hadn't thought of himself as being like Sirius in any way at all, but it was a comfort to think that maybe something of his godfather survived in him.
As Harry slowly made his way up the stairs and into the school, his mind turned to his own condition. It couldn't be a good sign that he was going to see Madame Pomfrey before he even made it up to Gryffindor Tower.
With a magical heave, the doors to Hogwarts opened and Harry Potter moved over the threshold, the shadow of his broom brushing the top of the ceiling like the blessed Crosspole of the Bishop.