Chapter 44

In the Slytherin section, led by Draco Malfoy, students whispered nervously among themselves.

Across the hall, many Gryffindors couldn’t hide their relief that Snape was nowhere in sight.

Everyone could feel it, something was about to happen.

All four Heads of House and every professor were gathered in the Great Hall, voices low, questions tumbling toward Professor McGonagall, who stood near the staff table, glancing repeatedly at her watch.

Then the great doors opened.

Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, and Skoll stepped into the hall.

Instant silence.

McGonagall’s sharp gaze met Skoll’s across the room. He gave a short nod. She let out a long, visible breath.

The silence lasted barely a few seconds, then the Great Hall exploded into noise.

“Merlin’s beard, pinch me! That’s really Harry Potter, isn’t it?”

“Am I dreaming?”

Chairs scraped, voices rose, and shrieks of disbelief echoed through the rafters.

Then, with a roar, the entire Gryffindor table stood and began to clap, cheer, and chant,

“Harry! Harry!”

“Harry Potter!”

“Quiet! Quiet!” McGonagall tapped her throat with her wand, amplifying her voice with a Sonorus Charm. It still took nearly a full minute for the cheers to die down.

“I know you’re all wondering why I’ve called everyone here,” she said. “Professor Flitwick and I took advantage of the Headmaster’s absence to stun Alecto and Amycus Carrow, the two Death Eaters assigned here by He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named.”

The moment she said it, every House except Slytherin erupted in cheers.
The noise was deafening, echoing against the enchanted ceiling like thunder.

“Enough!” McGonagall’s voice boomed again. “Now, Harry Potter has something he wishes to say.”

“Uh, me?” Harry blinked, startled.

Skoll gave him a light shove toward the front and murmured beside his ear, “Tell them the truth. You came for help, and why. That’s all. I’ll handle the rest.”

“But, what do I say?”

“Say what’s in your heart.”

When Harry reached the raised platform, where Dumbledore himself had once addressed the school, the Hall fell utterly silent again.

“Er—” Harry cleared his throat, nervously glancing at Skoll and Professor McGonagall. Both gave him encouraging nods.

“Right,” he said, raising his wand and touching it to his throat. His voice rang through the entire hall.

“Hello, everyone. I–I’m Harry Potter. I’ve come to Hogwarts today because I need your help.”

He hesitated, his eyes finding Ron and Hermione at the far end of the Gryffindor table. Strength filled him again, the same determination that had carried him through the hunt for the Horcruxes.

“My friends, Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger—” He glanced briefly toward Skoll. “—and Skoll, leader of the Order of the Phoenix, we’ve been searching for something that can end the Dark Lord once and for all. It’s here, somewhere in Hogwarts. And he’s coming. Soon. Members of the Order of the Phoenix are on their way, but we’ll need every bit of help we can get, to find it, and to buy us time.”

He looked toward Skoll, signaling that he was done.

Skoll nodded at McGonagall.

McGonagall lifted her wand again, her voice clear and commanding.

“You all heard him! Now listen carefully. All students below fifth year, stand up and form lines beside your tables. Fifth-years and above, if you do not wish to fight, you may leave as well. I’ll say it again, this is not a game. This is war. People will be hurt. People may die. And those who choose to leave are not cowards. In fact, you are all the bravest students I have ever known.”

Her tone softened on that last line. The change caught both Skoll and Harry off guard; even the students stared up at her, wide-eyed and silent.

“Evacuation will be supervised by Madam Pomfrey and Mr. Filch,” McGonagall continued briskly.

“Prefects, take charge of your Houses and ensure the younger students are escorted to safety.”

“I want to fight!” shouted a third-year Gryffindor, leaping to his feet with his hand raised high.

“Me too!” another voice called.

Dozens of hands shot up across every table, even from Slytherin.

A tall Slytherin boy stood and yelled, “This will be a battle for the ages! For glory, I’m in!”

The Hall erupted again.

Students pounded their tables and cheered:

“For Gryffindor!”
“For Hufflepuff!”
“For Ravenclaw!”
“For Slytherin!”

At the Slytherin table, Fanny rose to her feet, and, following her lead, a number of older Slytherins stood as well, boys and girls alike.

Skoll’s eyes found hers, and he allowed himself a faint smile. He was almost certain he’d seen Professor Slughorn discreetly wipe his eyes.

Then the great doors opened once more. Members of the Order of the Phoenix began to stream in, cloaked and determined.

“Quiet! Quiet!” McGonagall roared again, her amplified voice echoing off the stone walls.

“Students under fifth year will not fight. You are too young, and your parents would never forgive us if anything happened to you. Madam Pomfrey, Mr. Filch, take them to the eighth floor and begin evacuation immediately!”

A hooded figure hurried up beside Skoll, it was Aaron.

“The Ministry’s pulled nearly two-thirds of the Death Eaters from their posts,” he said in a low, urgent voice.

“More are being recalled. Word is, the Dark Lord’s furious, he’ll reach Hogwarts’ outskirts in about half an hour. They can’t Apparate inside, so they’ll march from Hogsmeade. The Death Eaters there are already gathering. No one’s noticed the Order of the Phoenix moving in yet, but the mercenaries are still stuck in London. How are they getting in?”

Skoll checked his watch. “I’ll handle it myself. It’s seven fifty-one.” He turned to McGonagall. “Professor, your office fireplace, is it open?”

“I’ve unsealed it from my side,” she replied. “But the Ministry still has the Floo Network restricted, only the Headmaster’s fireplace is authorized.”

“Good. Four more minutes,” Skoll said. “When the Ministry system collapses, they’ll come through yours. Take Moody with you, prepare to receive them and bring them straight here.”

McGonagall nodded sharply.

The four House tables were steadily emptying. Fewer than ten students remained at the Slytherin table, but given how few Slytherins there were to begin with, the ratio wasn’t bad. Ravenclaw’s older students sat quietly, resolved. Hufflepuff had even more staying behind. And Gryffindor, Gryffindor was nearly half full, their prefects struggling to usher away those too young to fight.

McGonagall descended from the dais, moving swiftly toward Moody, forcing stragglers toward the evacuation lines as she passed.

All the members of Dumbledore’s Army had stayed. They clustered near the Gryffindor table, talking in low, determined voices.

“Aaron,” Skoll called, “are the Order of the Phoenix members all in place?”

As he spoke, Skoll’s eyes drifted to Ron, just in time to see him hand Fanny the vial of Felix Felicis and a folded letter. Fanny read it, then, without hesitation, pulled him into a hug.

Ron’s face turned redder than his hair.

By the time he returned to the Gryffindor table, Fred and George had each hooked an arm around his neck, whispering something that made his ears burn scarlet all over again.