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Chapter XXIV: Sectumsempra

(Harry P.O.V)

Harry's body itched as the carriage pulled into the sleepy hamlet of Hogsmeade. His fist clenched tightly as the cold winter breeze of the village brushed against his face. He closed his eyes; his heart pounded in his chest as he tried to stir up the magic from his core- but found nothing. So this is what it feels like to be a muggle. Harry's tucked his hand back into his pocket as he sighed; honestly, it's not very comforting.

Daphne's hand placed itself upon his shoulder, turning his attention to the blue-eyed blonde that glanced at him with a gentle grin. "Harry, I get how you feel but-"

"Yeah, I know," Harry said with a nod, "I have to remain calm. Getting worked up won't solve anything."

Neville walked behind him as Michael and Claire took the space on his left, their meeting point of the Three-Broomsticks approaching quickly. Chimes rang from the arch of the doorway, announcing their presence as they stepped into the bar. As per Sirius' request, it was empty, with just two figures present. The first, the friendly face of Madam Rosmerta, and the second was the far more predatory gaze of Rita Skeeter.

The tavern owner hurried around the bar, collecting bottles of Butterbeer to disperse as the 'journalist' twirled her index finger through her curled pale-blonde hair. Harry kept his sigh in his chest as Skeeter's skin wrinkled from her grin. She looks far too happy to see me. He rubbed his thumb against his pointer, that's never a good thing.

"Harry!" Rita said as she hopped to her feet, "How lovely it is to see you again! It's been far too long, my dear."

My dear? He closed his eyes as he shook the notion from his mind. "Yes, it certainly has," Harry said. "I understand that on most occasions, pleasantries would be in order, but I fear I am far busier than I'd have hoped, so I'd like to get down to business as soon as possible." The woman sat down with a pout but nodded. "I assume you are already aware of the reason for this meeting?"

"Well, I must say, you are just as uncordial as ever," Rita said as she snapped, the quill and pen rising to her side. "But yes, I am aware that you are here to discuss your qualms with the Minster and his investigation."

"Correct," Harry said, "And as it is a critical discussion, I expect you to write down the words I am about to say yourself, exactly the way I tell it."

"Oh, don't worry about my quick-quotes quill. I'm certain our conversation will flow much better without my pausing to write," Rita said with a smile. Harry glanced over at Michael. His best friend's eyes followed the dancing quill awaiting the order. Quietly, he nodded as a smirk broke out across Michael's face.

With the speed of flashing lightning, Skeeter's green cover erupted into flames. "My Notes!" Rita shrieked, but Harry said not a word. Rather he watched as the quill and inflamed notebook smoldered beneath Skeeter's foot as she tried to stamp out the fire.

"Whoops," Michael said with a shrug, "My bad, looks like I still have a bit to learn about Wandless Magic. Oh well." From his pocket, Michael pulled out a shrunken notepad and quill before; with a snap, he expanded it and tossed it into Rita's hands. "I hope this will suffice."

Not bad, Corner, not bad. Harry smiled at the petrified silence of Rita before she nodded, flipping open the notepad. "Excellent, it's a good thing that Michael had a notepad on him. Otherwise, this whole interview could have been a bust."

"Yes," Rita said as she found her voice, though far quieter than the tone she'd taken before, "Very fortunate." Harry smiled as the front cover of Rita's notebook flipped open, "So um, where to begin?"

A fire burned his muscles as he twitched in his chair for a brief moment before commanding his body to stop. The eyes of the reporter far filled with fear to notice his discomfort as she began. "So, Mr. Potter, you've made claims that you were present at the Weasley's home in

Ottery St Catchpole, otherwise known as the Burrow the night that the Death Eaters attacked. Is that claim true, and if so, how involved were you in the incident?"

"It is, in fact, true that I was there," Harry started. "Those behind me also accompanied me, and certain members of the Order of the Phoenix." Harry fiddled with his tie for a moment before he continued. "As for my involvement in the incident, while it pains me to report it, my fellow students and I were required to fight on the front lines to keep the Death Eaters at bay."

"Truly," Rita said, her eyes wide as she jotted down his words. "Now, Mr. Potter, you stated that Members of the group known as the Order of the Phoenix accompanied you. The Order was quite a well-know organization in the days of the first rise of The Dark Lord. The members of the organization were public information at that time. Though now, they seem to be flying under the radar, per se. Are you capable of shedding light on the number of members and who is in command? Is it still Albus Dumbledore?"

"While I understand the intrigue of your question, the interest is misplaced." Harry's eyes forced a shiver into the woman as he continued. "The better question is why has the Minister of Magic allowed the degradation of the Auror Force to such an extent that a private defense group is needed?"

"The minister may argue that in his opinion, there was no need to keep so many Aurors on hand post-war." Rita said, "Is there no truth to this statement?"

"Perhaps there is," Harry said calmly, "Though given the fact that the body of Voldemort was never found and that he currently lives now would give little credence to his argument. We may all be entitled to an opinion, but when your opinion is tested and proven to be false, then it isn't prudent to continue the defunding."

"In fact," Harry pressed, "I would not be surprised if, during this investigation, records are revealed that both Fudge and Former Undersecretary Umbridge received bribes to defund the Auror Corps."

"You believe evidence will unfold that shows Minister Fudge and Former Undersecretary Umbridge in the pocket of wealthy donors?" Rita said, writing her thoughts down furiously. "Do you have any idea who some of these donors may be? And why do you suspect such a thing?"

"I know that Umbridge, at the very least, was involved in the incident that occurred at the Burrow." Harry's eyes hardened, "And I am confident that upon your questioning with the Weasley Family later this week and throughout the trial, it will be confirmed that it was Percy Weasley had disclosed information regarding the Burrow to Madam Umbridge in the hopes of securing Auror protection for his family. Albus Dumbledore himself set the wards, and if you are under the impression that a group of Death Eaters no matter how large could crack the Great Albus Dumbledore's wards without prior information- I dare say you are mistaken."

Rita twisted in her seat. "This army that reportedly arrived at the Burrow, how large was it?"

"Large," Harry replied plainly, "At least for an average Death Eater strike force. Though I suppose it is important to note that not only wizards make up the ranks of Voldemort." Rita's brow furrowed as Harry continued. "In the raid against the Burrow, both Werewolves and Giants were present."

"G-Giants," Rita stuttered.

Harry nodded, "To add fuel to the fire, I'm also quite sure that just as he did before, Voldemort has also brought whatever Dementors remain to his side." The name of the Dark Lord made the reporter quake, but Harry paid it no mind. "In short, what I am saying is this. We have a Minister who defunded the Aurors and left us vulnerable to these raids and disappearances by Death Eaters because we are so greatly understaffed. All while hiring and employing officials like Madam Umbridge, who would be charged with aiding and abetting terrorists if she were alive. I do not think of Fudge as a bad man, his incompetence has placed us into a deep hole, and we must work tirelessly to dig ourselves out. Otherwise, Voldemort and the Death Eaters will crush us. Just as my father and mother showed the strength to stop Voldemort the first time- I am calling upon the power of the Wizarding World to help me end Voldemort once and for all."

"I have no further statement." Harry said, before turning to face the french model, "But I'm certain that Claire Belmont here would love to give you her thoughts on Minister Fudge, as well."

(Daphne P.O.V)

For as exhausted as he was, Daphne found Harry remarkably composed. It was an odd sight; she'd usually been the level headed one, but the tides had turned. Now Harry sat cooly, and all she could do was keep her expression flat as she clutched her stomach. Sweat poured down her face as she desperately tried to pat away the wetness on her skin. No, this isn't normal. I need to see Madam Pomfrey; this isn't right.

Harry had stunned the Daily Prophet reporter, the peppy Rita Skeeter sunk deeper into her chair chained in silence. "Harry," Daphne whispered, earning his attention. "I need to get back to the castle," She said, Harry's brows furrowed at her words. "I haven't been feeling well since this morning. If something does happen, I'm not going to be of much help."

"Do you have any idea what's wrong with you?" Harry whispered, though the calmness in his voice was heavily forced. She shook her head as Harry sighed, "Okay, take Michael back with you, I have Claire, Hermione, and Neville here if something happens. Just- try and feel better soon, okay, Princess?"

She smiled, "I'll try, Flyboy."

Half melted snow crushed beneath her boots as she exited the Three Broomsticks. She was thankful that Michael hadn't fussed about coming with her, but her mind refused to drift from the intense pain she felt in her stomach.

Noise blared from her belly, filling her with nausea as vomit rose and fell in her chest. She stumbled as her head pounded, her shoulders rubbed against Michael's with every step she took. The icy winds hurt her lungs as her breathing became ever-more labored. "Hey, Blondie?" Michael whispered, holding her waist to help her stand, "Are you alright? What's going on?"

Her eyes drifted towards a stone wall, tucked in the corridor between Scrivenshaft's Quill Shop and Gladrags that the snow had recently been swept from, "Come on," Michael said, "Let's sit for a bit and let you regain your balance."

Her protest never escaped her lips; there wasn't much of a point- after all, Michael wasn't wrong. A grunt escaped her lips as Michael rested her back against the stone walls, her breathing still strained but slightly more comfortable. "You look awful," Michael said, "You weren't looking sick at the S.P.I.R.E Meeting yesterday? Oh Merlin," Michael growled, "Please don't tell me you got some fast-acting illness that's super contagious or something. I really-"

"Michael," Daphne croaked, "I think-," Her hands trembled as she clutched the cloth that coated her skin, "I think I've been poisoned."

"Poisoned?" Michael muttered, "By who-"

Light flashed into Michael's eyes as he ducked, a blue bolt of magic flying over his head. Another hollow layer of blue wrapped across the alleyway, acting as invisible walls. Daphne's eyes widened at their sudden closeness before he grabbed her waist, rolling her away from the wall and out of another blue-coated spell. "What the hell is going on?"

Michael's hiss hadn't fallen on deaf ears as a hushed snickering grew louder. "Damn, I missed twice," an invisible voice called out, "I must say Corner, you're as quick as ever."

That voice, Daphne thought, her stomach sinking at the recognition. From beyond the corner, two figures emerged, both larger than average, with heavy glares plastered on their faces. "Crabbe? Goyle?" Daphne whispered, "What are you two doing here?"

"They followed me," An icy voice called out. The wind rushed through the corridor, kicking up the chunks of frost before a figure became visible. His eagle-like features were as sharp as ever, and though his skin had paled considerably, he didn't look any less menacing. "I apologize for what's about to happen, but I have orders to carry out."

"Malfoy," Michael hissed, "Why am I not surprised? Michael's knees dropped as he got into his combative stance. "Well, what do you want?"

"With you, nothing," Malfoy sneered, "At least, not yet. It's her I have business with." Daphne curled from the pain in her stomach as Malfoy smiled, "I have to give my aunt credit, who knew just a few drops of Malevolent Mixture could be so effective?"

"Malevolent-," Vomit poured from Daphne's lips onto the snowy ground, her forehead touching the ice as the shadow of Michael moved in front of her. The heat that radiated from her face was capable of melting the snow around her as she wiped the spit-up from her lips. "So you used a switching spell on my Pumpkin Juice this morning," Daphne muttered. "Cunning. But for what reason?"

"You were a fool to trust Snape," Draco chuckled, "He told my Lord about the prophecy Potter has, and my Lord turned around to tell me. He says no to your terms, by the way, so he's proposing Potter a new deal. The prophecy for your life."

Fire filled her chest, but Michael didn't move. "Tsk," Michael's tongue clicked as he shifted his feet, "I hate to say it, but that deal is off too." Michael rolled his shoulder back, popping the joints as he growled. "See, Daphne, she's important to my best friend, and he asked me to keep her safe. So if you want her-,"

Michael snapped, and Daphne's eyes filled with amazement as a black metal clipped onto his arm, coating it entirely. A larger chunk clasped onto his chest, this one grey and uncolored yet equally as thin and padded. His palm glowed from the sapphire crystal as he waved them forward, "Come get her!"

"Metal?" Draco cackled at the sight, "You think that armor is going to save you?" He flicked his wand, "Reducto!" Daphne had wanted to yell for Michael to move, but the words got caught in her throat.

The Ravenclaw stood firm, and Daphne's eyes nearly rolled from her head, as with an effortless swipe Michael, he batted the spell away. Draco stepped back, a growl leaving his lips as Michael grinned. "You know, you've been a pain in my ass for a while, Malfoy. Honestly, I should be thanking you for giving me this opportunity to break you in half."

Michael raised his arms as the blue glow from the sapphire-embedded glove grew brighter. "What the hell is happening?" Draco roared, the fury overcoating the confusion.

"Stay still and find out." Michael said with a smirk, "Picking an alleyway as your ambush point- what a way to make yourself a sitting duck." Michael's gem began to blink rapidly as he chuckled, "If you value your life, I suggest you cast a shield."

"Crabbe! Goyle!" Malfoy cried.

"R-right!" The two said, lifting their wand in unison, "Protego Maxima!"

"Confringo!" Michael roared. Daphne swallowed hard as the wave of orange flames ripped through the corridor with a thunderclap's sound. Two screams cut through the alley, followed by a thud. Deep breaths filled Michaels's lungs, as the smoke began to clear.

The results spoke for themselves. The faintest rise and fall could be seen from the chests of Crabbe and Goyle, their robes and wands burned to crisps as they laid beaten on the ground. Michael's arm shook his free hand wrapped around his wrist, holding it up. "I think I may have overdone it a-"

"Michael, get down!" Daphne screamed as a jet of red had only just barely been blocked by Michael's arms. The Ravenclaw skidded backward, his arm limply hanging at his side as the final smoke began to clear. Draco's wand arm had been coated with burned skin, the sleeve of his shirt turned to ash, and yet he stood.

"Really bad time to still need to work out the kinks," Michael growled, he too finding the bloodlust in Draco's eyes.

"You dare attack me, Half-Blood!" Draco roared. "I'll make you pay!"

"Uh, Blondie," Michael said, stepping back, "You need to clear out, I'm not going to be able to babysit and fight him."

"You're not going anywhere!" Draco howled, "Bombarada!" Michael's hand pressed down hard on her head, forcing her down as the alleyway's wall erupted at the spell's impact.

Come on, now," Daphne grumbled, How much more public can a fight be? Where are the aurors? Wait this blue light, an anti-apparition and silencing charm? But this is so advance- how did-"

"Bombarada!" Draco bellowed again, "Diffindo! Reducto!"

She watched as Michael pulled her around, the spells slamming into his body without reprieve. "Michael! Just run! I'll be fine."

"Trust me, Blondie," He growled, "As much as I'd love to take you up on that offer, I can't." Daphne's brow knit as Michael smiled, his vest blocking another direct hit as he swallowed a grunt of pain. "I made Harry a promise that I'd protect you if he wasn't around! I won't break that promise."

"So what's your plan," Daphne hissed as Michael pulled her from the line of fire once more, "Keep taking hits until he gets tired?"

"I'm still working on that," Michael said, turning his bruised back to her, "Protego!" A blue-bubble like shield coated them as Draco's eyes seemed to glow yellow with pulsing magic. "Harry wasn't kidding. Whatever Draco went through this summer, he's definitely not the same."

Magic stirred in Daphne's chest, Come on, think of something Daphne, there has to be something? She watched as Michael grunted through gritted teeth, his shield reflecting spell after spell. If he wasn't so worried about protecting me, I'm sure Michael could take him, but- how did he get this much stronger so quickly?

For enemies, Daphne swallowed at the memory of the potion books calligraphy, better than doing nothing, I suppose. Daphne pressed against the wall, clawing herself up as she lifted her arm. I can hardly move, she hissed, the poison feeling like fire in her veins, I just have this one shot. "Michael, duck!"

Without hesitation, the Ravenclaw did as she commanded, and with all that energy that remained in her core, she shouted, "Sectumsempra!"

Blood erupted from Draco's body like a volcano, with red stains coating herself and Michael. The boy that had back them into a corner now laid discarded on the ground, his body torn to ribbons. "Daphne," Michael said as he panted, his injured arm hanging down at his side, "What did you do?"

Words failed her as her exhausted frame slid back down against the alley wall. Desperate coughs and gasps filled Draco's lungs as he twitched on the ground. What kind of spell was that? She thought as her hands trembled, What did I just do?

"Daphne," Michael said, his good arm placed atop her shoulder, "Daphne, are you okay?"

She bit her lips as her body shivered, the cold hardly registering with her as Draco continued to bleed out. Do I help? But he's the enemy? He's still just a kid like us? What do I do? What do I do? What do I-

Her internal voice fell silent, however, as almost as silently as Draco had first appeared, another plume of smoke arrived, and from it, Severus Snape. "You foolish boy," Snape hissed, "What part about waiting for my arrival was unclear to you?"

"I knew you were behind this!" Michael shouted with rage, "We should never have trusted you! You bastard I'll-"

"Michael," Daphne said, her voice calming as she watched Snape swipe his wand over Draco's wounds, sealing them. "Professor Snape, was this what you were warning me about?" He nodded, though his focus never left Draco's side. "If you knew this was going to happen, why didn't you-"

"Stop it before it took place," Snape answered, "It wouldn't be wise. I encouraged you to stay next to Potter because I knew that if it came to a fight like the Dark Lord had encouraged Draco to part-take in, Potter would win. Especially with your safety on the line, unfortunately, his inability to carry out simple instructions seems to have rubbed off on you."

Even in these situations, he still insults Harry. She clenched her fist, releasing the tension, Not the time. "Still, you remained relatively unharmed, so I suppose the plan worked in the end anyway."

"What plan? In what way is Draco ambushing us a plan?" Michael hissed.

"I assume that Draco told you himself," Snape said, "The Dark Lord proposed a different exchange. I couldn't protest that when I brought him the original terms. But now-," Snape's eyes fell to Draco's limp body as he continued to wave his wand, "It seems like he'll have to reconsider the original offer. He's cruel, not stupid."

Snape released a tired sigh as he finished binding the last of Draco's major wounds, leaving him with a handful of minor injuries. "Why aren't you completely healing him?" Daphne asked.

"Because if I did so," Snape said, "He'd be back around the castle being a problem. The Hospital Wing is one of the best places for him to be right now- for all of us." Snape turned, and Daphne felt as if she'd been doused in a cold river, "As for you, Ms. Greengrass, Sectumsempra is not a spell to be used lightly. I'm not sure how my book fell into your hands, and I don't mind if it is of use to you. But understand something, my spells are not for the faint of heart."

"Wait are you saying that-,"

"Yes," Snape said as he rose to his feet Draco limply hanging in his arms, "I am the Half-Blood Prince."

(Dumbledore P.O.V)

His dim-blue eyes followed the young Gryffindor as he paced around his office. The boy's fist clenched tightly- every cell in his body fighting his will to scream. Harry slammed his fist against the stone walls with a grunt as Dumbledore rubbed his temples. "Damn it," Harry hissed, "What the hell is happening?"

Dumbledore sighed; for all his patience, his heart pounded with fire at the afternoon's events. He's supposed to be after me, Dumbledore muttered beneath his breath. So what is the benefit of attacking these students? Unless- does he not understand how powerful Harry's become?

"He was working under Voldemort's orders," Harry growled, "He probably knows where Tonks is. He attacked Daphne and Michael." Harry's magic felt non-existent, but the rage in his eyes told the whole story, "He'll pay for laying a hand on them. If he thinks a few cuts are bad, he's in for a big surprise when I get my hands on-"

"Don't touch him," Dumbledore whispered weakly. His heart dropped as the venom in his eyes matched the hatred of his former pupil. "Please."

The word had sounded strange to the Headmaster; he'd never had to ask for anything, and yet, he had no choice. "What do you mean, don't touch him! He's a monster- he's a threat to your students. I know you're all about the greater good but-"

"Keeping Draco unharmed benefits you as well," Dumbledore said, his head low. "The Dark Lord holds Draco in a unique position, he's given Draco a job to complete, and it's in our best interest to let him finish it. Currently, for lack of a better word, Draco is our hostage. If you damage him, what do you think that Voldemort will do to Tonks?"

Harry had stopped in his tracks, his eyes falling to the floor. "It is unlikely that Voldemort will be so forgiving of Draco either, trust me, the boy will be punished far worse than anything you'd administer. But, with Draco defeated, the ball is back in your court, so to speak. Voldemort attempted to break the negotiation, and he failed. Now would be the time to send him a message that you won't tolerate any more games, and Severus, who Voldemort employed to guide Draco can be that messenger."

"I can't imagine how infuriating this situation is for you, Harry," Dumbledore said, "But I implore you, please, be patient." Dumbledore took a calming breath as he continued, "After his failure, it's unlikely that Voldemort will attempt to use Draco again, and I will ensure that Severus will run interference in the name of following Voldemort's orders between your group and Draco. But please, listen and wait."

"And if he attempts to attack my friends or me again?" Harry hissed.

"Then do whatever you must," Dumbledore whispered, "But I'd caution you to tread carefully. You're under a microscope right now, you taking Draco's life could paint you in a negative light, regardless of your excuses, and as such could be used in Fudge's favor. I ask you, is your revenge of Draco, or Fudge's removal more important in the big picture?"

Harry fell silent once more as Dumbledore nodded, "Go be with your friends. Try and relax if you can, maybe even take a flight. For now, I ask that you trust in my advice, and wait."