The Price of War

"We've found something you should take a look at, sir." The soldier didn't miss the way Harry was taking in the carnage around him, the way the dead were mauled and maimed. This had long gone past the killing curse - at least, an Avada Kedavra was clean and quick, painless. The way the Death Eaters and Order members had fought, on the other hand… many of the corpses bore the marks of vicious curses or the creative use of other spells. One Death Eater had been found partially frozen and partially burned. One elderly witch from the Order had been found with a flesh-eating curse dissolving her skin and organs. Cutting and blasting hexes, fire and ice spells, lightning bolts and dark curses had left their marks not only on the walls and floors, but also on the bodies.

This had long gone beyond just a battle. This had been about absolute, unadultered hatred. The witches and wizards on either side hadn't fought to kill or capture, they'd fought to cause pain, to inflict as much harm on the enemy as possible. Harry shuddered. Despite all he'd seen so far, this viciousness caused bile to rise in his throat. In the end, though, it only strengthened his resolve to bring an end to Voldemort's reign of terror, because if this kept going, then the wizarding world was well on its way to self-destruction. If Voldemort didn't destroy it, then the hatred he was sowing would tear it apart a handful of years down the road.

There was one more thing that Harry dreaded with each survivor they found. Everyone they had recovered so far had said that Dumbledore had faced off against Voldemort, and that their duel had carried them well away from the main fighting. Neither one of them had been seen again. Harry got the sinking feeling that Voldemort may have succeeded in what he had for so long been trying to do - kill one of the greatest mages of all time.

Even as he followed the ice soldier, the feeling of dread in his gut that he'd had since they found the Rod of Dominion solidified into solid ice. They passed by other soldiers and sorcerers that carried the bodies of the dead to the area that had been the living room. Of course, the living room no longer had any walls to separate it from any of the surrounding rooms, but that was a boon right now, as the dead bodies accumulated there.

And then they rounded a final corner, and stepped into a room that had been utterly devastated. So devastated, in fact, that the room was gone. The building just ended. He could tell there had been a room there, most likely a ball room or large reception area, just from the piles of rubble that indicated where the walls had once been, but everything else was gone. There was no trace of the ceiling, nothing left of the furniture, and the ground, once solid marble, from what he could tell of the few inches at the door that had survived the cataclysmic battle, was scorched, torn, and blown apart.

Harry stepped into the outside hesitantly, and looked at what the ice soldier had wanted to show him.

The still face of Albus Dumbledore.

….

The fortress of Nair'i'caix was a mess. Healers were rushing to and from the large halls of the castle, where triage areas had been hastily set up to deal with the wounded that were coming in from the ruined Order headquarters. All activity ceased, however, when a group of sorcerers appeared, Harry in their midst, carrying the body of Albus Dumbledore. Everyone, from healers to ice soldiers and Trazkaban sorcerers paused as they watched them carry the old headmaster away from the triage area in silence. Hermione came skidding into the room, only to stop dead in her tracks, her jaw hanging open in disbelief.

"Harry?" she whispered as he walked past. Uncharacteristically for him, he turned down a corner, ignoring everyone else. The brunette hurried after him, finding him just out of sight of the main hall, leaning against the wall. "Harry?" she repeated.

"Damn." Hermione jumped as Harry turned around and punched the wall. He hauled back to punch it again when she reached out and took hold of his arm before he hurt himself.

"What happened, Harry?" she asked him softly. She'd only managed to get a brief explanation from Fred and George that the Order headquarters had been attacked.

It took a while for him to compose himself, and Hermione looked on in concern at the shrouded look in her friend's eyes. "Someone betrayed the Order," he told her quietly, "and they got ambushed. Voldemort wanted to send a message. We've got two days before he attacks the Ministry."

"Merlin! What about the headmaster?"

Harry shrugged. "I assume he dueled Voldemort. There wasn't much left of the room they were fighting in." Tilting his head back, he leaned back against the wall and sighed in resignation. "Damn." He didn't know whether to feel frustrated, angry, or sad. The headmaster was gone, and while Harry hadn't especially been fond of him lately, he hadn't wanted him dead.

"Milord!" Both teenagers turned around at Tess's voice. The girl came running down the hall, a healer from the ice people in tow. "Milord, Master Healer Revan needs to talk to you urgently!"

The man that followed Tess was tall and had the same pale complexion as most ice people. He was dressed in a long white robe that indicated his status as a doctor, and carried with him a book full of notes. "Lord Polairix," he greeted Harry with a nod.

"What is it?" Harry blinked in confusion, uncertain of what was going on. "Shouldn't you be with the other healers in the grand hall?"

"I was, milord, when they brought in Headmaster Dumbledore." Revan frowned for a moment before continuing. "I noticed that his body was still warm when they carried it in, and decided to investigate. To my surprise, I found that he was not dead, milord."

"Not dead?" Hermione and Harry echoed in disbelief.

"No, he is quite alive. Gravely injured from numerous dark curses, but alive nonetheless. He is in a coma, milord, his vital functions somehow slowed down so much that it appears he is almost dead." The healer gestured for them to follow as he turned around and led the way back into the depths of the castle.

"A coma?" Hermione asked, surprised.

"Not exactly, more along the lines of suspended animation," Revan corrected himself. "It is rather remarkable, it appears he placed himself in it, because he should be dead on account of his wounds, but with his heart and respiratory system slowed down, he has managed to stay alive."

Harry looked over at Hermione as they fell in step with the healer. "Have you ever heard of anything like that happening?"

"Not that I know of."

...

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