Severus stalked through the halls doing his very best not to limp and glaring daggers at anyone who got in his way. ‘Anyone’ in this case being Mrs. Norris and one of the Hufflepuff ghosts, but it was the principle of the thing. When he’d accepted Alastor’s invitation to duel, he’d fully expected a flock of birds to come flying at his head first thing. It had been…irritating…when Alastor had refrained; he was a grown man and didn’t need anyone making allowances for him. Of course then he’d caught Alastor’s smirk and realized that the bloody lunatic had known damn well what he’d been expecting and was deliberately baiting him. Things had escalated quickly, and by the time Peeves had arrived spitting water, they’d both taken half a dozen hexes and curses through their blocks. Severus wouldn’t have admitted it except under extreme torture, but he had been just about willing to call the damn thing himself at that point if that damn poltergeist hadn’t made it a moot point.

He gritted his teeth as he surveyed the last staircase he had to traverse before reaching his quarters and then began to lower himself step by step. If Alastor’s shoulder isn’t stiff as a board by tomorrow morning I’m bloody well going to put delayed-reaction swelling solution in his breakfast and retaliation be damned. He should be stiff though—Severus had come up with half-a-dozen variations of the freezing curse for use at various Deatheater gatherings, and he’d pushed a version he was particularly pleased with past Alastor’s blocks and into his left shoulder while the other man was distracted by a pair of whip-charms. It was one that the ex-Auror most definitely shouldn’t have seen before, and while it hadn’t actually hurt him, the aftereffects were annoying and would last for at least a day or two.

Hissing slightly as he lowered himself down the last stair, Severus had to admit to that the bone bruise that Alastor’s hammer-hand had left on his thigh was going to be bothering him for at least a day or two as well, unfortunately, no matter what he treated it with. Most of the rest of the spells that had landed had been more-or-less easily cancelled, fortunately…the last thing he’d have wanted to tonight do was pay a visit to Poppy.

Letting himself into his quarters, he debated sitting down on the couch for a moment before deciding that he probably wouldn’t be getting up again if he did so. He limped the rest of the way into the bedroom and sank down on the bed. “Accio bruise salve.”

///////////

Severus sat up in alarm, blinking into the darkness. What in the bloody hell is that noise? Merlin help me, if Harry pulled over another bookshelf— He snapped to full awareness as red flashing from the glass globe that served as the Order’s general alert caught his eye. The same location as that damn shrieking was coming from as well, as it happened. “Bloody hell.” He swung his legs over the side of the bed with a wince and then shook his head and grabbed his robes. He’d be expected in the Headmaster’s office in only a few minutes, but he wasn’t about to go traipsing through Hogwarts’ halls in his nightshirt.

“Getting a bit slow, aren’t you,” Alastor commented snidely as Severus walked in.

As Severus had been refraining from limping only by great force of will, he wasn’t in the mood to put up with Alastor’s taunts. He smirked. “Could you pass me that bit of glass there, off to your left?”

“Now is not the time you two,” Albus snapped as Alastor was opening his mouth to respond. “I put an observation spell on our floos after Severus discovered our watchers, and someone tripped the wards tonight.”

“Who?” Albus turned to look at him, and Severus cursed. “Damn it, I knew that little idiot should have been warned about the floo!” Or chained to a wall, which would probably have been more effective. “Merlin knows he’s managed to get himself involved in every other bit of trouble that’s come to this school in the last five years, and—” He shook his head sharply. It was his own fault. He’d respected Albus’ wishes not to reveal that their floos were being monitored knowing damn well that Harry…. Place the blame later. “When?”

“I sounded the alarm as soon as the wards were breached.”

“And those two shadows of his were with him?”

“All four of the Weasley children were with him, as well as Miss Granger, Miss Lovegood, and Mr. Longbottom.”

It was Minerva’s turn to curse as she realized just who Severus and Albus were speaking about, and from the look on Alastor’s face he’d figured it out as well. “Where were they going?” Minerva demanded.

Severus gritted his teeth. “The Department of Mysteries, I presume. He’s been going on about getting rid of that damn prophecy.” And borrowed my bloody defense books, and you just know he was looking for something—

“They went to the Ministry, so that’s very likely what they’re attempting,” Albus confirmed, interrupting his train of thought.

“What’s wrong?” Hagrid demanded, having just reached the door of the office.

“Harry-bloody-Potter has once again gone charging off into the middle of a situation he knows nothing about, dragging his brainless band of followers right along with him,” Severus snapped. “Little idiot understands approximately as much about self-preservation as a depressed lemming.”

Hagrid bristled, opening his mouth to defend the brat, but Albus spoke first. “We have to get to the Ministry, and I’m not inclined to take the floos. If Harry and his friends didn’t trip them, I don’t want to be the one to tip our watchers off.”

Unless the Dark Lord has Crabbe and Goyle the elder watching the floos, I wouldn’t place much hope on that.

“Hagrid, can you stay here and direct any other Order members who attempt to contact me? Warn them to avoid the floo as best they can. If we aren’t back by dawn, inform Filius that we were called away and that he has temporary authority until we do return.”

‘Until’ rather than ‘if’ Severus noted…the headmaster always was overly optimistic.

“Can do that,” the half-giant agreed quickly. “You just save Harry and the others.”

“Let’s go; we’ll apparate from the edge of the grounds.”

The trip across the grounds wasn’t something that Severus cared to remember—for one it was freezing cold out and snowing yet again, and for another his leg was aching something fierce. At least from the way Alastor was holding his arm he was in some pain as well. Severus winced. ‘At least’ would apply if we were both going to be at Hogwarts for the next few days; having two of the Order’s most experienced fighters in less than top form on the eve of a very likely battle is not what I would call a good thing. He caught Alastor’s eye and the old Auror nodded slightly. He knows it too. Although I don’t think he’s been in what would be considered ‘top form’ since sometime before I was born, so….

Harry and the children who’d gone with him would have floo’d in to one of the public terminals in the Atrium, but they would have to go through the entrance in Muggle London. The four of them crowded into the phone booth—the door barely shut and the sides creaked alarmingly—and Albus jabbed the appropriate numbers.

“Welcome to the Ministry of Magic,” the voice of that idiot welcome-witch said pleasantly. “Please state your name and business.”

“Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, Alastor Moody, and Severus Snape,” Albus snapped. “Here on…Hogwarts business.”

“Thank you.” Three badges popped out, for Minerva, Alastor, and Severus. Presumably Albus didn’t need one because of his position. Former position, officially, although…well, Severus wasn’t going to worry about it. He clipped the one with his name to the front of his robes as the voice continued speaking, “Visitors, please take the badges and attach them to the front of your robes.”

“We’ve done that, can we please move on?” Severus snapped. This was taking too long; Merlin knew how far along Harry and the others could have made it just in the time it took them to get to the apparition point, and now they were going to have to wait for this antiquated bit of magicked machinery to lower them eight bloody floors.

“Visitors to the Ministry, you are required to submit to a search and present your wands for registration at the security desk, which is located at the far end of the Atrium.” There was a grinding noise as the floor of the phone box began to lower. Entirely too slowly, but eventually they did reach the Atrium. “The Ministry of Magic wishes you a pleasant evening,” the voice called as they exited and headed for the desk. Where, ominously, no witch or wizard waited to register their wands.

Albus ignored the empty desk and headed past it towards the lifts, punching floor nine with more force than strictly necessary. “If we’re lucky, we can intercept them before they reach anywhere dangerous.

“In the Department of Mysteries?” Severus muttered under his breath, and heard a snort of agreement from Alastor. They reached the entrance and stepped inside.

“Miss Granger, I presume,” Minerva said with a nod to several doors marked with flaming X’s. The flames were starting to die down, but a flick of her wand refreshed them.

“Didn’t have the sense to mark the one they came in through,” Severus returned, quickly casting a marking spell at the one they’d stepped through before allowing it to swing shut. The doors spun too fast for him to follow; he’d heard about that before hence marking the one they’d come through, but since he’d never been in the Department of Mysteries before he’d never experienced it firsthand. And I think I could quite happily have lived my entire life without having done so. “So which one leads to the Hall of Prophecy?”

There was silence for a moment. “I think we can rule out the ones they’ve marked off,” Albus said firmly. “Minerva, we’ll start over here; Severus and Alastor, start over there. Mark the one you’re currently checking with green and anything you rule out with red.”

“And try and remember that you’re supposed to be on the same side,” Minerva added.

Both Severus and Alastor glared until the door shut behind the two of them. At which point all of the doors spun again, and ‘over here’ and ‘over there’ became moot. Well, at least as long as we all marked where we’ve been, process of elimination will eventually lead them to the suicidal little brats. Not the most efficient method, but….

“All right, Severus, let’s get this over with.”

“I don’t suppose you know what’s behind all of these.”

“I’ll recognize most of the rooms once we’re in them, but not which is which from here. Shame, would save us a quite a bit of trouble. I never did figure out how the people who work here manage to get to the appropriate offices in the morning.”

Severus opened his mouth to respond, and then decided that it really didn’t matter. There was probably some sort of coding somewhere on the doors, but even if he could break it there really wasn’t time. “Well, pick one.”

Alastor shoved open the nearest door and waved Severus through. “Go on. You have another flashback when you meet up with your old colleagues, and I’m not about to be between you and them.”

“Your concern overwhelms me.” The door shut, and he did a quick survey of another circular room, this one with odd spikes coming out of the walls. “So where are we?”

“Sound Research. Hall of Whispers is through that door. Keep your voice down.”

Unless it happened to lead to the Hall of Prophecy Severus doubted very much that Harry would have come this way, but it would be supremely ironic if they ran right past him while they were searching for him.

The room they entered was solid black, lit only by the light from the previous chamber. “What in Mer—” he clamped his hands over his ears as the echoes nearly sent him to his knees.

“I said voice down,” Alastor hissed viciously, although it came out as loud as any shout.

“Well, I don’t think our dear Mr. Potter is in here!” Severus hissed back. What bloody idiot spends his days in a Merlin-be-damned echo chamber? What purpose is that supposed to serve? And the Ministry actually funds this! He backed out carefully and shut the door. “Let me guess, behind door number two is the Hall of Shouts.”

Harry was nowhere in the Sound Research ward—to Severus’ complete lack of surprise—and he and Alastor stepped back into the entrance room. There was no sign of Albus and Minerva, although one door now bore a red AD while a second had a green MM. Suppose that’s a good way to mark where we’ve been, although if there are Deatheaters here we might as well be using a bullhorn. He shrugged after a moment and turned and changed the green X on the room they’d been in into a red SS before allowing it to shut fully. He was opening his mouth to ask if Alastor had any preferences as to their next destination when the door marked as the entrance swung inward.

Both he and Alastor had curses half-invoked when the three shapes resolved into familiar figures. “Wotcher, Mad-eye,” the one with the pink hair greeted, looking entirely too cheerful for whatever hideously early hour of the morning it happened to be. “Professor.”

“Nymphadora,” Alastor returned, apparently not noticing when her grin changed into a glare. “Kingsley. Dung.” He shook his head. “Why did you bring him?”

“That’s what I asked,” Fletcher said indignantly. “Was planning to go home to my nice—”

“I’d just bailed him out of a Ministry holding cell when the alarm went off,” Tonks interrupted. “Figured he might as well do something today besides try and impersonate an Inferius.”

Impersonate an infer…? Severus decided abruptly that he didn’t really want to know why anyone would try something like that and gave a quick nod to the three of them before indicating the marked doors. “The flaming X’s are the ones Potter and the rest of the dunderheads have apparently ruled out; we’re going through the rest one by one until they’re found.” And executed. “Green for current, red for already been searched. Albus and Minerva are in that one now, apparently.”

Shaklebolt dipped his head sharply. “Any sign of Deatheaters?”

“Not yet,” Alastor returned. “But Malfoy has been down here more than I have, and one of the Lestrange brothers—can’t remember which one—went through at least the basic training to become an Unspeakable; if they have a particular destination I doubt they’re having to go through this search rigmarole.”

“Rabastan,” Severus muttered. He’d forgotten about that. They would be able to go directly to wherever they wanted.

“We need an Unspeakable in the Order,” Tonks said, tapping lightly on the nearest door and then leaning close to examine the frame. “Can’t believe that’s never come up before.”

“Had Dorcas, before.” Alastor shrugged. “First time Voldemort fell was all of a month after she was killed, and it hasn’t come up since.”

“Remind me to suggest to Albus that we rectify that little oversight,” Severus said, glaring at the identical doors. “But I suppose we should get on with the search.” He was about to add a second suggestion, that they change partners first—he had no desire to be stuck with Fletcher, but while he hadn’t worked much with Shaklebolt he didn’t have the same urge to bait him as he did with Alastor and he knew Alastor had been Tonks’ mentor not so long ago so they could apparently tolerate each other well enough—but Tonks was already dragging Fletcher through the door she’d been examining with Kingsley right behind them. Oh, well. We haven’t killed each other yet. “Particular preference?” he asked Alastor.

Alastor shook himself slightly and then barged through the nearest. “Planetary Studies,” he muttered as Severus joined him. “Going to be a bloody hassle trying to search this place.”

Severus nodded, wondering if it would be worth the risk to just yell for Harry and hope there weren’t any Deatheaters on hand to hear. We’ve already put our names on the doors…. The room was dark, for one, too dark for him to see how far the walls extended or if there were any more doors, with luminescent…planets?...floating around obscuring his view even more, and several areas were misted over just to make things even more enjoyable. “Lumos.” It didn’t do much to combat the darkness, and he banished it with an unhappy suspicion that the ambient light from the planets was all they were going to have to search by. “I’ll st—”

A girl’s voice screaming a Reductor curse cut him off, and both he and Alastor were turning in that direction when the flash of an exploding planet forced them to drop back and shield their eyes.

“Bloody buggering—Harry!” Severus shouted.

“Professor?” the same voice yelled. “There’s more of them!”

Alastor echoed some of the same curses Severus was muttering as three children appeared out of the darkness. Lovegood had done the shouting—and, presumably, cast the curse—but the Weasley girl was there as well, limping and leaning heavily on Lovegood’s shoulder, and the youngest Weasley boy was trailing behind the two wearing an expression that belonged on the face on someone in St. Mungo’s mental ward.

A Deatheater appeared behind them, but a pinwheel of fire—much nastier than anything that Alastor had aimed at Severus—caught him in the chest and threw him out of view screaming.

Severus shifted to put himself in front of the three children, alert for any more attacks, but apparently the Deatheaters had either been taken by the exploding planet or had seen what Alastor had done to their compatriot and fallen back to regroup. He twisted to glare back at the three children. “What happened? Where are the others?” He really didn’t want to consider the worst-case scenario, that—

The Weasley boy stabbed a finger at him suddenly, poking him firmly in the chest. “Bat.”

Severus stared, Alastor barked a startled laugh, and the Weasley girl broke off her quick gasps of pain long enough to moan quietly and cover her face with her free hand.

“I don’t know what they hit him with, but he’s gone a bit funny,” Lovegood informed them in all seriousness.

Severus shifted his glare. “Yes, I did notice. What happened?”

“We were attacked. Right after Harry picked up the prophecy. It was like they knew we were coming.” She shook her head. “We blew up a bunch of the shelves and ran…I’m not sure what happened to Harry and Hermione and Neville, but the twins were with us until they stopped to try and slow the Deatheaters down.”

“Damn.” Bad enough when they were just searching for the Hall of Prophecy, if Harry and the other four were now playing catch-as-can with who-knew-how-many Deatheaters all over this damn department…. And that assumes they’re all still alive. He pushed that thought firmly away.

“Weasley, how badly are you hurt?” Alastor demanded, jabbing his wand at the girl.

She her head, panting. “It’s…it’s not that bad.”

“I think it’s broken,” Lovegood contradicted. “I heard a snap when one of them grabbed her.”

“She’s Loony…Loony Lovegood…ha—”

“Be quiet,” Severus snapped at the Weasley boy who was currently wandering in disoriented circles.

Alastor brought his wand up sharply and snarled a curse that glowed red into the darkness, and Severus spun back around and shot a full-power Sectumsempra as shadowy figures appeared. One screamed and fell back. Merlin, I hope those are Deatheaters.

“Stupify!”

He grabbed Lovegood by the collar of her robe and yanked her back behind him. It seems I’ve managed to find a Ravenclaw with a Gryffindor’s sense of self-preservation. Merlin help me. The Weasley girl was on the floor now, about as protected as she could get all things considered, and the boy…well, Alastor was going to have to deal with him; he was too far out of Severus’ reach. They needed to get their backs against a wall—or, better yet, back into the entrance room, but the Weasley girl was going to have to be carried—possibly the boy as well depending on how addled his brains were—and with no way to know how many Deatheaters there were…. “Alastor, how many can you see?”

“Two down and three more over there, but I think there must be a connection from another room so….”

Well, obviously there was or they would have seen the children entering. He shook his head.

“Take them and get moving,” Alastor ordered. “I’ll follow.”

“But—” He’d have to take them all the way back to the Atrium to ensure that they reached Hogwarts safely, which meant leaving Alastor with absolutely no backup.

“Now,” he snapped. “I can see better than you in this mess, and I can’t carry one of them if it comes to that.”

Damn. He was right, but then as sore as Severus’ leg was he wasn’t entirely certain that he could carry one of them either. “Miss Lovegood, can you help Miss Weasley?” He’d rather keep his wand in his good hand and stiff leg or not he’d be of more use shielding them then trying to carry a burden himself in a running fight. “Mr. Weasley, we’re going that way.”

The boy turned to look up at Severus. “Vampire. And a bat.” He nodded to himself.

“Alastor, shut up,” Severus growled.

“It’s only my ankle, I can do it myself,” the Weasley girl was protesting, but she’d never have made it to her feet without Lovegood’s support and was leaning far more heavily on the other girl than Severus would have preferred.

“All right, we’re going to do this carefully. Weasley, stay by your sister.” The four of them moved back towards the door—more slowly than he’d have liked but they didn’t really have much of a choice—and he snapped at them to wait when they reached it. “I’ll go first. When I call that it’s clear, then you may come through. Not until then, understood?” Two nods and one bright smile met that, and he decided that that was as good as he was likely to get.

The entrance room was empty, and he whispered quietly for the children to join him. Presumably Alastor was following, but he could take care of himself. Severus had to get the children back to the Atrium as quickly as possible. “This way. We go through the exit the same way we did the last d—”

A side door sprung open, and Severus snarled and brought up his wand.

“Professor!”

“Har—never mind, take her.” He nodded towards the Weasley girl, then realized that behind Harry was Longbottom, blood covering his face and an unconscious Granger in his arms. “Hurry!” Harry wasn’t big, but he was bigger than Lovegood and they didn’t have the time to waste.

“Harry, we saw Uranus up close!” the Weasley boy said with a faint giggle. “Get it, Harry? We saw Uranus—ha ha ha—”

He broke off as a bubble of blood popped at the side of his mouth, and Severus cursed. Six children to get out of here, and only two of them were in what would be called reasonable shape. “This way.” He’d taken one step towards the exit when another door burst open and an entirely too familiar—and decidedly unwelcome—figure burst through it. Bellatrix…. And two others behind her, although he couldn’t tell who they were in their robes.

“There they are!” she shrieked.

Severus grabbed the nearest child—Longbottom—and flung him through the door to his left. Both he and the Granger girl went flying, but Harry and Lovegood had taken the hint and dragged the other two children in after them. Severus couldn’t hold off the three attacking much longer—eventually one of those stunning spells was going to get through his block—and with one last salvo he dove in after the children and kicked the door shut behind him.

“Colloportus,” yelled Harry, and almost immediately there was the sound of three bodies slamming into the door on the other side.

“It doesn’t matter!” said a man’s voice. “There are other ways in. We’ve got them! They’re here!”

Avery, Severus recognized. “Hurry, seal the doors!”

“Luna, Neville, help me!” Harry called.

Lovegood and Longbottom took one side of the room, he and Harry took the other. They had just reached the far wall when Lovegood’s cry of ‘Colloportus’ was cut off with a scream.

Damn it!

The skinny blonde girl slid across a desk and onto the floor, landing in a limp sprawl.

“Get Potter!”

Bellatrix would never be mistaken for anyone else with that shriek, Severus decided, but now there were five Deatheaters pounding towards Harry. For once the brat showed some common sense and sprinted for the front of the room. Severus stunned one of them, and took aim at a second but now that they'd seen him they were all spelling back and he didn't have his choice of shots anymore. Keep running…keep running! Of course he might be running into the arms of another set of Deatheaters, but he would stand a better chance against someone more sane than Bellatrix.

“Hey!” called the Weasley boy, who showed his absolute lack of common sense—not something Severus blamed on whatever spell had hit him—by staggering towards Harry giggling all the way. “Hey Harry, there are brains in here, ha ha ha, isn’t that weird, Harry?”

Much to Severus’ disgust, Harry slowed to a stop and turned back towards his friend. “Ron, get out of the way—get down!”

Weasley had already pointed his wand at the tank, and if Severus had dared shifted his aim from the Deatheaters he’d have stupefied the brat himself.

“Honest, Harry, they’re brains—look—Accio brain!”

Bloody, buggering…. Everyone—Deatheaters included—stared as a brain burst out of the tank and flew towards Weasley.

“Ha ha ha, Harry, look at it! Harry come and touch it; bet it’s weird.”

It’s not the only thing.

“Ron, no!”

Good advice, actually, but the Weasley boy had already grabbed the disgusting thing. The tentacles grabbed back. “Harry, look what’s happen— No! No—I don’t like it—no, stop—stop!”

The brain was starting to wrap around him, and Severus didn’t want to risk a cutting spell from this distance. Of course, if it wraps much tighter a cut might be the least of his problems.

“Diffindo!” Harry called. It wasn’t a bad cast, but the tentacles continued to wrap Weasley even tighter.

“Harry, it’ll suffocate him!” the Weasley girl screamed.

Unfortunately that seemed to break the stillness of the room, and a stunning spell struck her in the face seconds later.

“Stubefy!” Longbottom screamed. “Stubefy! Stubefy!”

But nothing happened. Well, except that one of the Deatheaters tried to stun him—Jugson, Severus thought—but he missed. Unfortunately.

Harry resumed his flight, shooting out of the room holding something over his head, and Severus cursed as the Deatheaters went pounding after him sending furniture flying as they went. He’d forgotten that he couldn’t bloody run with this damn limp. “Stay here!” he snarled at Longbottom. “Bind that one back there, and look after the others—get that thing off Weasley!” Precisely how he was supposed to do any of that Severus didn’t know, but he didn’t think his stunning spell was going to wear off any time soon, and the Deatheaters were clearly after either Harry or what he was carrying—or both—and would presumably leave the other brats alone until that goal was accomplished.

Severus cursed again as he reached the outer room and found that wherever they’d gone the door had been shut behind them. The markings did no good, now…who knew where Harry might have gone.

“Professor!” two voices called in chorus coming racing out another door.

Severus snapped out a spell to keep it from shutting. “You two!” He pulled the door he was holding open the rest of the way. “In there; your brother’s had his brain addled and been attacked by someone else’s brain, Miss Lovegood and your sister are stunned, and I believe your sister has a broken ankle on top to that. Take care of them!” He had more faith in the Weasley twins’ abilities than he did in Longbottom’s, and that would, hopefully, keep them out of the immediate firing line. “Seal the doors after you’ve gone in, and don’t open them until myself or another professor—or an Auror, or someone you trust—tells you to.” And pray they aren’t under Imperius when they do so.

“What are you going to do?”

“Find Harry! Go!”

They jerked back momentarily and then darted through the door. Severus shut it with slightly more force than necessary after checking the marking—a red AD—so he could rule it out when deciding where to search

He frowned for a moment and then froze the door the Weasley boys had come through open. How long the spell would hold he didn’t know, but hopefully as long as it was open the room wouldn’t spin again. “Now where in…?” He almost wished Harry had been bleeding, at least then there might be a trail to follow.

A door fell open, and Tonks fell—quite literally—out, only to be dragged to her feet by Kingsley who was hard on her heels.

“Any luck?” Tonks asked.

“Did you not hear the yelling? All of the brats except Harry are in there—” he waved a hand.

“Well, where’s Harry?”

“I don’t know. He went running out before I could stop him—with four Deatheaters behind him—and the door shut before I could see where they ended up. The other children are still in there; I told them to seal the doors and wait until we came for them.”

“Good thinking.” Kingsley rubbed his forehead and looked around. “Damn it, we’re practically going to have to start all over. All right, that was the Sound Room,” Kingsley put a large slash on it. “That open one?”

“Wherever the twins were; I froze it open so the damn room wouldn’t spin. What happened to Fletcher?”

“Coward ran away at the first sight of Deatheaters,” Tonks said in disgust. “I’m not sure whether he got out or not, though. Wish we’d thought of that trick with the doors earlier.” She looked around quickly. “So do we split up?”

“I don’t like it,” Kingsley returned. “Dividing forces isn’t the best id—”

“Did you hear that?”

“What?”

She shook her head and pointed at the door she was closest to. “I hear laughing.”

Severus winced. He couldn’t come up with a single good reason that anyone on their side would be laughing about this situation, which meant…. “On three?”

“Wait. If they’re laughing at something, they might not be watching the door.” Kingsley nodded to Tonks, who eased it open a crack.

“…ten of us and only one of you… or hasn’t Dumbledore ever taught you how to count?” Lucius was saying.

“He’s dot alone! He’s still god be!”

Severus nearly cursed out loud and gave them away when Longbottom made that announcement. Harry was at the bottom of a flight of stone steps that ringed the room, in front of some sort of archway, and Longbottom was scrambling down towards him ignoring the Deatheaters. There was another figure on the floor at Harry’s feet…Fletcher, from the look of things. He wasn’t moving.

“Neville, no! Go back to Ron!” Harry shouted.

“Stubefy!” Longbottom finally seemed to notice the Deatheaters, pointing his wand at one after another. “Stubefy! Stubefy! Stu—”

Augustus grabbed him from behind, pinning his arms to his sides.

Not that he really needs to, Severus observed, since he hasn’t managed to cast a spell yet tonight that I’ve seen. But so far none of the Deatheaters had noticed himself or the two Aurors, and since both Kingsley and Tonks were edging sideways—one to his left and one to his right—trying to get into better positions, he held his tongue.

“It’s Longbottom, isn’t it?” sneered Lucius Malfoy. “Well, your grandmother is used to losing family members to our cause… your death will not come as a great shock.”

Bellatrix’s face lit up—a decidedly unpleasant sight. “Longbottom? Why, I have had the pleasure of meeting your parents, boy.”

“I doe you hab!” Longbottom snarled in return, fighting to get free.

“Someone stun him!” Augustus demanded.

“No, no, no.” Bellatrix looked back and forth between Harry and Longbottom. “No, let’s see how long Longbottom lasts before he cracks like his parents… unless Potter wants to give us the prophecy.”

Severus tightened his grip on his wand and checked the two Aurors’ positions. He knew full well what she was planning, and that he couldn’t allow that to happen regardless of whether or not they were ready to fight.”

“Don’d gib id do dem!” Longbottom demanded in an unexpected show of bravado, fighting harder as Bellatrix approached with her wand raised. “Don’d gib id do dem, Harry!”

Bellatrix raised her wand. “Cruci—”

“Sectumsempra!”

“Stupify,” two more voices chorused in unison, but Severus’ curse hit first and both of theirs flew over her head.

They might have chosen a slightly less damaging spell, but then neither of them had been forced to spend as much time in her presence as he had, Severus decided. She fell with her back gashed badly open—she might not be stupefied but she wouldn’t be getting up any time soon, either—and the rest of the Deatheaters spun to face the new threat.

“Traitor!” Lucius snarled.

Severus thought he saw Harry dragging Longbottom back up the steps out of the corner of his eye, but since Avery, Macnair, and Lucius were targeting him, he didn’t really have the attention to spare. He barely had the time to cast his own offensive spells; Deatheaters didn’t normally do much in concert but the three of them were managing to time their casting well enough that he couldn’t afford to let his shields drop. Or to let his concentration waver...he could feel his heartbeat beginning to speed up, and flickers of memories were starting to mingle with the scene in front of him. He knew already that anAvis Oppugno would cause a flashback, but if there were other spells that would as well...

Lucius fell to the ground laughing hysterically suddenly, startling everyone involved in the fight. Severus recovered a bit faster than the other two—or at least he spotted two redheads standing in another doorway shooting off spells which answered the question of just who would use a cheering charm in a fight—and put Avery in a body-bind before either of the other two Deatheaters were able to collect themselves.

One-on-one—at least when they were both armed—Macnair was no match for Severus and knew it. He tried to run, but something spun him around and dropped him, and Severus glanced in the other direction to find that Albus and Minerva had arrived to join the fray. To end the fray, really, since Severus didn’t know any Deatheater who’d consider fighting Albus Dumbledore in anything approaching single combat. Alastor had come in at some point as well; he was crouched by Tonks who’d gone down without Severus even noticing.

Harry and Longbottom were no longer in evidence; presumably they’d gone in the door that the Weasley twins were now peering out.

“Is everyone all right?” Albus called when the last of the Deatheaters had fallen.

“Will be,” Tonks said, sitting up slowly and rubbing her forehead. Alastor and Minerva both indicated that they were fine, and Severus nodded as well.

Kingsley took the steps quickly, moving to examine the body that lay crumpled in front of the archway. “Dung didn’t make it,” he announced. “He’s been…eviscerated.”

“Damn,” Severus muttered. He didn’t like the man, but he did occasionally provide useful information. And that particular spell was about as painful as killing spells could get.

“I’ll take care of it,” Kingsley said. “I’ll call in a couple of the other Aurors and get them hauled off to Azkaban too. We’ll call it a break-in or something. Tonks, maybe you should get yourself to St. Mungo’s. Just to be safe.”

“I’ll take her,” Alastor said, heaving her to her feet when she looked inclined to object. The abrupt movement was enough to make her lose any color she’d regained in her face, and she held onto his shoulder as they limped out of the room.

“Let’s get the children and go,” Minerva said with a sigh. “It’s been a long night.”

Severus was the first into the room behind the Weasley twins, and he frowned as he surveyed the teenagers. “Where is Harry?”