Chapter 31 Drawing Closer
It took hours for them to reach their destination. Buffering spells kept the boat sailing smoothly, and shielding spells kept the worst of the wind and the water spray off them. Still, it wasn't a pleasant journey, the waiting getting to all three of them more than anything.
They check the map frequently, watching the tiny image of their boat getting closer and closer to the shoreline. When they finally approached, the night had largely passed, and the eastern sky was already beginning to brighten with dawn. Harry had been gone for hours; there was no telling what might have happened to him in that time.
Upon reaching the shore, they dragged the boat up onto the rocky bank, noticing immediately several Viking long boats already tied nearby. Remus headed straight for one of them, grabbing the prow and pulling himself up to peer inside. He jumped down a moment later, his eyes gleaming in the predawn light.
"Harry was in this one," he announced. "The scent is still strong." Sirius grinned - those werewolf senses would take them straight to Harry now that he'd gotten the scent.
They grabbed up their gear, Sirius and Severus both strapping their swords to their backs while Remus hefted the iron mace over one shoulder. They could see the treeline ahead, the dark expanse of forest looming before them.
"Move as silently as you can," Snape told the two of them. "I remember reading about a cat-like creature called Grendlings that hunt in packs in these woods. I'd just as soon not lead them right towards us."
With that the three of them headed off, Remus taking up the lead as they followed Harry's trail into the forest.
By Sirius' estimate they had gone perhaps five miles when Remus stopped suddenly, holding up his hand for silence. Knowing the werewolf could hear and smell things they could not, both Sirius and Severus froze, waiting for him to give them some sign of what had caught his attention. He sniffed the air, his face looking pale in the growing morning light. Then he moved quickly back toward them and spoke softly in muffled tones.
"I can smell blood up ahead," he informed them. "And there's something moving in the woods off to the south. It's still far away but stay quiet so that we don't attract its attention."
Both men nodded and they followed Remus forward, moving more cautiously through the trees. They had walked for several more minutes in absolute silence when they came across the source of the blood Remus had mentioned. Ahead of them in a small clearing were the bodies of animals. They were huge, black-furred creatures with muscled bodies and long claws. There was indeed something cat like about them, but their hind quarters were oddly shaped as if perhaps they could walk upright as easily as they walked on all fours. The ground around them was black with blood and they could see that these animals bore the marks of sword wounds.
All three of them moved carefully forward, scanning the ground and avoiding the pools of blood. Remus hissed suddenly in shock, and crouched down to pick something up from the ground. Sirius stared in sickened horror when he realized that the item he was holding was a human hand.
It made them all search the bodies more closely, each dreading the discovery that one of the dark bloody lumps upon the ground might be a human body. Remus however stopped his search suddenly, and moved swiftly toward them, grabbing Sirius by the arm and pulling him toward Severus, motioning to Severus to move away from the blood. Neither men questioned him, trusting his judgment, but they both looked to him for an explanation. Remus' face was deathly pale.
"We have to keep moving. There's a faded warding ring around the clearing," he whispered as they walked. "I crossed over one of the stronger residues. I recognized the feeling - it was made by Harry's Patronus. He leaves a very distinctive vibration behind."
Sirius felt his heart begin thumping hard in his chest, a cold panic washing over him. It meant of course that Harry had been alive and in possession of his wand when this had happened; it also meant that Harry had been in the center of the conflict that quite obviously had taken human lives. But ultimately it meant that there had been Dementors here. There was no other reason for Harry to have cast a Patronus.
They moved swiftly and silently through the slowly brightening woods, Remus leading the way. But after about a mile further, Remus motioned for them to stop and he stood with his head cocked to one side, listening intently for some sound. Sirius had to restrain himself from transforming into Padfoot so that the dog's more sensitive nose and ears could pick up whatever sounds and smells were disturbing the werewolf. But he knew that while Padfoot was certainly able to run faster than he could as a man, he would be far more useful in a fight as a human.
Remus moved toward them again, his face grave. "They know we're here," he told them. "We're being cut off. They've been traveling parallel to us south of here but they're ahead of us now, and moving to block our path forward."
His words caused Sirius heart to begin pounding again. All those years that they roamed the Dark Forest with Moony, he'd come to understand the nature of the hunt. And after years of being hunted by the Dementors, he knew what it meant to be prey.
"Are you sure it is us they are hunting?" Snape asked.
Remus nodded grimly. "I know when we're being hunted."
"How many?" Sirius asked. "And can you tell what they are?"
"Ten at least," Remus replied. "And I would guess that they're these Grendlings you mentioned. They smell vaguely cat-like. There is the scent of blood with them so it's probably the remains of the pack that attacked Harry's group."
"And the Dementors?" Sirius asked, knowing just how deadly they could be in a fight. Their power was in the distraction they provided - the ability to completely overwhelm an opponent so that something else could slip past your guard.
But Remus shook his head. "Harry's Patronus would have driven them far away. It will be a day at least before they try to return to the area. I think it's just the Grendlings we have to contend with."
He turned then, stiffening. "They're coming."
The three of them moved so that they stood with their backs to each other; Sirius held his wand in his dominant hand and his sword in the other. In a duel the wand was his greatest weapon so he had been trained to use the sword in his left. Beside him he saw Severus and Remus do the same, the werewolf hefting the huge iron mace as if it weighed nothing.
They did not have long to wait. Amid the sound of crashing branches, large furry bodies flung themselves at them, red eyes burning in the shadows. And then the beasts were on them, tooth and claws flashing deadly in the morning light.
The three men all knew to use the most deadly of spells in a fight like this - and Sirius let loose with a stunning blast of fire that caught the first creature in the chest, lifting it off the ground. He flung it with bone breaking force against a tree. He swung his sword at the next, blocking the strike aimed as his stomach before hitting it with another blast of his wand. Behind him he could hear Remus and Snape shouting their own spells and the woods were lit red with blasts of fire and lightning. The screams of the Grendling and the sickening bone-crunching blows of Remus' mace were deafening. Sirius was vaguely aware of the spray of blood striking his face his sword struck the throat of one of the creatures. He basted one more moving body and then grew still as he realized that nothing else was moving. Turning swiftly he raked his gaze over Remus to assure himself that the man was unhurt. He too was splattered with blood but none of it appeared to be his.
"Is that all of them?" Severus demanded, his own sword dripping with blood.
"Yes," Remus assured them "Are either of you hurt?"
Sirius took a moment to evaluate himself. Something had managed to strike his left leg, but it hadn't cut through the tough dragonskin he was wearing. "Bit bruised but in one piece."
"I'm fine," Severus confirmed as they took in the dead creatures around them. There were nine in total, and Sirius could not help thinking that had there been a few more, they wouldn't have escaped unscathed. None of them were used to this sort of fighting. Sirius did not want to think about what it might have been like for them to have had Dementors attack in the middle of such an battle. Harry had already seen such horror in his young life, to be dragged into this was heartbreaking.
"Let's keep moving," Snape urged. Remus, who was making some attempt to shake off the grizzly remains embedded in the spikes of his mace, nodded in agreement and took up the lead once more. Sirius had to admire the man's fortitude. Nothing kept Remus down for long. His ability to endure everything life threw at him was one of the reasons Sirius loved him so much.
Alrik and Asgeir gathered a large group of warriors in the main hall of the Keep. The eldest was gray-haired and scarred, the youngest no more than three or four years older than Harry. There was a ranking order among the men that Harry could see based on who stepped forward to study the great map that Asgeir laid on the table. The youngest warriors were forced to stand in the back, deferring to the older more experienced men. Harry felt awkward and uncomfortable as he realized that despite being the youngest, all of the men deferred to him. He was given a spot between Asgeir and Alrik and all of the men were watching him. More than once he heard someone whispering the moniker 'the boy who lived'. The younger warriors were peering over shoulders to catch a glimpse of his infamous scar.
They pointed out the location of the Well and the stone to Harry on the large map explaining in detail the lay of the land and what they might encounter. The Grendlings would attack in mass, he was told, and they would take a large number of both swordsmen and archers to deal with them. There was also the potential that the Black Wyrms might come down out of the mountains and attack. It took Harry a few minutes to realize that the Wyrms they were talking about were in fact some breed of dragon.
Despite what he'd been told about Muggle weaponry, he couldn't help but think that a few machine guns and grenade launchers might come in handy. Certainly they would do more damage than a sword. But he held his opinion to himself for once, feeling far too out of his depth to speak up. As far as he could see, there was no sign of Muggle technology in this society. Instead they spoke of something called Wizarding Steel, and he found himself wondering if perhaps there wasn't some sort of spell on their swords to make them more accurate.
They showed him the most defensible position around the Well as he would apparently be required to not only lift the capstone, but also transport it thirty feet to the Well itself.
"The moment we approach the Well, the Dementors are sure to come," Alrik told him. "How many can your Patronus hold off?"
Harry frowned. There had been at least fifty of them that night during third year when he and Sirius had been attacked. He suspected his Patronus could hold off as many as necessary, but he saw another problem.
"I'm certain I can hold them all off," he told Alrik. "Or at least drive them back, but that is not the problem. The Patronus is a free-formed but directed spell and the Levitation spell is continuous. "
"That means that once you begin moving the stone, you will no longer be able to direct your Patronus beyond a single final command?" Asgeir guessed.
Harry nodded. "I can tell it to attack the Dementors, but I have no guarantee that it will go after all of them or simply single one out and chase it down. Is there anyone here who can cast the charm?"
"Beyond what you saw earlier, no," Alrik informed him. Harry glanced at Bjorn and Gudrik. To his surprise neither man looked insulted. Though it seemed inconceivable to Harry he suspected that the Patronus was so far out of their reach that he might as well be asking them to fly to the moon.
"We know the risks," one of the men told Harry, a grim, determined look on his face. "All of us have lost someone to those creatures. If you can seal that infernal hole, we're willing to take the chance."
"Sealing that hole is not going to get rid of the 200 that are already here," Harry told them, his stomach knotting with the thought of what these men were going to be facing. And all for so little reward. He was going to lead these men into battle, and he would have to watch them die, watch them lose their souls to the Dementors. And for all his magic, there was nothing he could do to prevent it.
"We'll deal with that problem afterward," Asgeir informed him. "Worry about the problem we can actually do something about."
He understood the practicality of his words, but it went against his nature to have to face such a failure and call it a victory. It reminded him too much of the Eye of Odin. The Wizarding World counted that a victory, but Harry could not help but think of all the good men and woman who lay dead on the field afterwards.
They spent a while longer going over the battle strategies, Harry remaining silent through much of it. Strategy had always been Ron's strong suit, not his, and he figured these men who had been warriors all their lives knew far better than he did what to do. But still they looked to him for approval, deferring to him as if he were some leader like Asgeir. The weight of their hope was heavy on his shoulders, and he could not remember a time he had ever felt so alone.
When all was said and done, the men headed off to prepare armor and weapons and no doubt to spend a last night with their families. They would head out at first light tomorrow, and Harry knew many would not be coming back. He found himself silently cursing the Ministry for allowing such a thing to happen.
With his own family safely in High Hill, Alrik had no such distraction and offered instead to show Harry around Bifrost Hall. Grateful for the distraction, Harry went with him, determined to educate himself more completely on how the rest of the Wizarding World lived.
He saw no sign of the Muggle influence in the Bifrost community to the point that even the pair of blue jeans he was wearing was out of place. These people lived life much the way their ancestors must have, and had probably done so for centuries.
And yet at the same time, he saw no signs of stagnation. Despite their lack of magical prowess, magic infused every aspect of their lives and improved them much the way technology improved the lives of Muggles. It seemed that magic amongst this community was far more specialize than it was at Hogwarts. People had one magical strength, and they stuck to it, relying on those around them for other things. And there was no lack of magical items either - everything from magical farming tools to brooms, though he did notice that broom travel seemed somewhat restricted. He supposed with the constant threat of Dementors, it just wasn't safe to travel beyond the walls of the fortress.
During the brief tour of Bifrost Hall, Harry got some idea of how large the castle was - all the families and local farmers lived with the fortress walls, well protected from the Dementors and Grendlings. The walls kept the Grendlings from entering, and the wards kept the Dementors out. But men stood in risk everyday when they stepped outside the castle walls to attend their farms. They felt confident that they could deal with the threat of Grendlings, but they had no defense against the Dementors who were growing more bold as their numbers increased.
Eventually Harry made his way back inside the Hall where he soon found himself surrounded by locals who were anxious to speak with him. All of them had grown up listening to stories about the Boy Who Lived, and they had hundreds of question for him that he answered with as much patience as he could. Despite being a part of their rich history, Harry found himself feeling more isolated as it brought home for him just how little he knew about his world.
He was listening to a group of warriors discussing the best way to fight off a pack of Grendlings when the alarm sounded - a horn blaring from the walls of the Keep.
"Harry," Alrik called as he rushed into the hall. Harry immediately jumped to his feet thinking that perhaps the Dementors were attacking. "Come quickly," Alrik urged. "They'll destroy us if you don't stop them. "
Harry followed him out the door.