Harry Potter and the Inferi Cohort

Chapter 1: Death Embrace

"Aguamenti!" Harry shouted for the fourth time, pointing his wand at the goblet emphatically. The goblet filled and then drained before he could tip it into Dumbledore's slack mouth. Harry shot an agonized glance at the lake remembering Dumbledore's warning to not touch the water... and in that moment he knew with certainty that this was what Voldemort had wanted for his enemies. He wanted them to be wedged between two impossible choices.

As he lunged for the water Harry saw shadows moving beneath the surface, gliding past each other. He shuddered as the vision of the peaceful man floating underneath them contrasted by the one that had leapt from the depths when he'd tried summoning the locket. He tried to hold onto Dumbledore's advice about not fearing the bodies, but a deep dread moved through his gut.

Dumbledore's rasping breath grew more shallow and Harry lurched forward to scoop water into the goblet. As soon as the goblet broke the surface, the water roiled and a bony hand clamped over his wrist painfully dragging him toward the depths. Harry flung himself toward Dumbledore, launching the water from the goblet in an arc, drenching his face so that the water was running down into his beard. Harry hoped that some had made it into Dumbledore's mouth as he struggled to break free of the vice grip on his arm.

Ominous burbling sounds echoed off the cave's ceiling as other forms arose from the murky water, slowly clambering onto the small island as Harry struggled against the one pulling him toward the lake. Ignoring his revulsion, Harry reached forward with his wand hand and grabbed the half submerged body by the back of its neck and hauled it forward onto the rock in a gruesome embrace. It moaned in protest. He then rolled over it, trying to break the grip on his wrist as he thrashed.

In the struggle, the goblet fell from his hand, ringing as it rolled against the stone. He held his breath as he watched it nearly topple into the water, but as it reached the ledge it rolled back a bit. Harry scrabbled against the body beneath his, still held in its icy grip. Bile rose in his throat as the creature's death odor engulfed him and the water-bloated skin peeled off under his hand.

The other arm snaked tight around his waist and Harry struggled frantically to break out of its hold. He reached across the body trying to get the goblet, turning his face away from the bedraggled hair and exposed jaw bone while the frigid body bucked underneath him emitting a haunting wail. He registered that the corpse holding him in this death hold had been a woman, perhaps pleasantly plump like Molly Weasley in life. Other hands were pawing his back, grasping his ankles, pulling both of them back toward the water. Harry's free hand groped for the goblet but he couldn't find it.

Grimacing, he had to turn his face toward the woman clutching him. He resisted closing his eyes to avoid her milky-white stare and tried to locate the goblet. It was just beyond his reach and he was in danger of pushing it off the ledge it was precariously balanced on. Harry strained to look at Dumbledore and redoubled his efforts to get the goblet when he saw that the ancient wizard was still awkwardly strewn across the rocky terrain, unmoving. Apparently, splashing him with water in the face hadn't revived him.

More bodies were pulling themselves up out of the water now from all sides and coming closer. Their collective keening created a chorus of lamentation. Harry's chest ached with each breath, the arm around his middle constricting his breathing. He was frantic to get another goblet of water to Dumbledore's lips...

His wand! He cursed himself. How could he have forgotten about magic?

But he was still being held by the corpse, both by the wrist and around his waist. His wand was clutched in his hand against the neck of the dead woman.

"Alacri!"

Desperate to get out of this horrific embrace and with a strangled gasp, Harry had chanted the first spell to come to mind... oddly it was the cheering spell he'd learned along side Ron in third year. He wasn't able to do the wrist movements that went along with the spell, but it seemed to have had some effect. The bony arm around his waist softened... he was no longer in a death grip and could breathe. Just in the nick of time, too, as the other bodies grabbing at him had made progress pulling him into the water and he was half submerged.

He wiggled off the body and turned to the others repeating the spell on all the corpses around him, even those still emerging from the water. Their jerky movements slowed and one little boy in a nightshirt even sat down on the rocks, a huge grin splitting his face (literally). The whimpering had ceased and their noises had a buoyant quality.

No longer being pursued, he scooped up water in the goblet and sat next to Dumbledore, tenderly lifting his head into his lap and dribbling water over his lips. Dumbledore sighed and after a moment his eyes blinked open.

"Harry?" he asked.

"I'm here, Professor," Harry said.

"How....?"

"No idea, sir."

Dumbledore strained to sit up and Harry helped him. Then the old man grasped Harry's hand and Harry pulled him to his feet. Harry put Dumbledore's arm over his shoulder and held him around the waist as he swayed.

Dumbledore looked around at the collection of the animated dead sitting and standing on the rocky outcrop with stupid grins making their appearances even more ghastly (if that was possible) and issuing the occasional lurid giggle.

"You really don't know what you did?" he asked again.

"Well, I kinda forgot about magic for a bit and then when I did remember, the only thing that came to mind was the cheering spell... and it worked... so I kept on using it. I have no idea, though. Why would it work?"

"Hmmm. We shall ponder this... but at another time. We must return to Hogwarts," Dumbledore said as he scooped the locket from the basin and tucked it into his robes.

As they clambered into the little boat, Harry heard movement behind him and whipped out his wand. It was the woman who'd first grabbed his wrist. Still beaming gruesomely and chortling, she had followed them across the rock and was now wading into the waters as the boat started to float across the lake. Like cows returning home, the others had fallen in line with her.

"This is indeed curious," said Dumbledore weakly.

Harry watched in horrified fascination as the hoard of dead moved back into the dark waters and followed beneath the water like a gigantic school of fish.

When they reached the boulder strewn field atop the cliff, Harry was no longer surprised that the Inferi (as Dumbledore called them) were keeping up with them. He was beginning to think of them as individuals. The woman in the tattered gown, the boy in his nightshirt, the thin gangly man who towered over them all. They were starting to stand out from one another... apart from their leering grins and terrible tittering. He wondered what would happen to them when he and Dumbledore apparated back to the school.

"Maybe, sir, they'll just, I dunno, peacefully die up here? Like actually, die?"

"Ah, no Harry. I don't believe so," Dumbledore said, his breath labored and leaning heavily on Harry's shoulder even as he sat on a large boulder.