Uncle Quentin's Spy (Harry Potter/Buffy) (Complete)

Chapter 13: Framed

Quentin Travers read the latest Daily Prophet on his desk. His grand-niece was now wanted for murder, together with her boyfriend. Aurors were ‘combing the country’ for the two teenagers after their ‘daring escape from Hogwarts’ had ‘all but confirmed their guilt’. The old Watcher dropped the newspaper, if one could call the rag that without insulting such fine examples of high-quality journalism such as ‘The Sun’, on his desk and leaned back, smiling. Others might be concerned about this, but he felt it was the best thing that could have happened. His grand-niece and Mister Potter were now further distanced from the Wizards and were free to research and support the Council, instead of learning whatever drivel that school deemed important.

Not to mention that two dark wizards had been killed by Hermione’s hand - or wand in this case. Two monsters who would not prey on humanity again. It was a pity that the third had survived, but the Malfoy family already was in the Council’s sight, and after this, no one would argue to have the child spared. That foul cretin would not grow up to attack anyone else, Quentin swore.

He would have to be supportive of the girl though. She was still young, and for all her determination and talent, killing, especially monsters that looked so human and young, could weigh heavily on one’s mind. But she’d get over that. Just as he himself had, after his first vampire kill. And in the long run, it would be good for her - she’d know from the start that monsters could look and act like humans, children even, and yet had to be killed as the inhuman demons they were. She’d not be killed, like some Watchers were, when a vampire looked a bit too young and innocent, and they hesitated just long enough.

But he had to focus on the task at hand. Hermione would want access to the library, of course, and the assistance of young Mister Giles. And Mister Potter would need more training. He wrote a note to that effect, then checked his watch. Plenty of time for some studying before his next appointment.

*****​

India Cohen checked her appearance in the large mirror again. Minimal make-up, sensible hairstyle. She couldn’t do much about that - or wanted to. She was the Slayer, not some schoolgirl with a crush. And Kit wouldn’t want a schoolgirl anyway, far too young and innocent for a Watcher, while she was already a seasoned Slayer. Clothes… it was too cold still for a kind of “casual and sexy” look with sleeveless top and cut-offs, but her turtleneck was tight enough to show her chest very nicely, and her jeans looked like she had painted them on, with black ankle-boots - not as high-heeled as recommended, but she had to be ready to fight at all times - completing her outfit. She looked sexy but not cheap. Those tips in that magazine she bought on the stake-out last week had helped her so much!

Smiling at her own reflection, she turned around for a last look, then left her room, looking for her Watcher. This time she’d make him realize she was a woman, a woman in love!

India found her Watcher in the library, sitting at one of the old. massive tables there, surrounded by books. He was too close to that Granger girl for her taste, who occupied another table next to him, but the two as well as the old man, Giles, who seemed to live in the library, were apparently reading without paying attention to each other. That India had no competition for her Watcher was good news. That Kit was so captivated by his work was bad news - she’d have to catch his attention without being obvious about it. Well, she was prepared to do exactly that!

“Kit! There you are! What are you reading?” India smiled at the young man, then stepped around, leaning over his shoulder to peek at the book he was studying. She took care to press her chest into his back, and he grew rigidly tense for a second, before he forced himself to relax. Yes!

“Watcher diaries from the 18th centuries. We’re looking for more information about Myrken Flenswater.” Kit explained, with a slightly forced smile.

“Ah! I can help!” India grabbed a diary from the stack, and plopped down on the chair across from Kit. She could read English, even old English, better than any of the old, dead languages Kit knew and had tried to teach her.

The Slayer spent the next hour subtly trying to catch her Watcher’s attention. Stretching, bending down to check on books on the lowest shelf, pushing her chest out while rolling her neck - she did everything she could think of to show she was an attractive, beautiful, desirable woman. Judging by the way he seemed distracted and his reading slowed down, she believed it was working, but he didn’t actually do something about it. Nothing like she wanted him to do, at least. India sent another glare at Granger and Mister Giles. If not for their presence, she was sure, she’d be quite closer to Kit now.

*****​

Severus Snape steeled himself for another visit to the Dark Lord. The man’s mood had become more and more mercurial lately, ever since Bellatrix’ death at the hand of a still unknown group of wizards. Severus had been tasked by Voldemort with finding her killers, but the Potion master had not had any success so far. Dumbledore was not telling him anything about it, the Tonks were in hiding and would not talk to him anyway, or so he assumed, and all the muggle witnesses had been oblivated. Appearing with empty hands in front of the Dark Lord was an invitation to get punished, if he was in a bad mood.

On the other hand, Dumbledore’s reputation was in tatters after Granger had gone crazy and killed Crabbe and Goyle, failed to kill Draco, and then escaped with Potter, like Sirius Black had escaped two years ago. After such a blunder it was just a question of time and gold until the Headmaster was removed from his office. That would cheer the Dark Lord up.

But then again, Severus’s use as a spy would be reduced if Dumbledore left Hogwarts. And with Dumbledore gone, he would be expected to do more at Hogwarts for the Dark Lord, despite the aurors’ presence - Voldemort claimed those were of no consequence. He was not entirely wrong, but one could not be too careful, especially as a spy.

And finally there was the nagging feeling that Dumbledore might not trust him anymore. Severus was sure the Headmaster knew who had killed Bellatrix, so why wouldn’t he tell him, if that would improve his position at Voldemort’s side? Whoever managed to kill the crazy witch had to be powerful enough to fend of any other Death Eater, so it could not be concern for them. And nothing was as important as securing Severus’s cover as a spy.

Severus shook his head. If Dumbledore didn’t trust him anymore, did that mean he was expendable? Like Vance had been? He didn’t like to think about that, he really wanted to see Voldemort dead, but he had to think of himself as well.

Maybe some of the other Order members knew anything. They would not talk to him, but he was a Potion Master, he had ways to make them talk, and to make them forget about any discussion they had with him...

*****​

“There he is, better watch out. Don’t let him get behind you, he’ll curse you in the back.”

“Merlin’s balls, he’s really back. Scum.”

“Couldn’t they have ‘fixed’ him in St. Mungo’s? I’d have paid for that, everyone would have.”

“Why’s he still a prefect, after what he has done? Are the teachers crazy?”

Draco Malfoy was livid. Here he was, back at Hogwarts after a week of pain and suffering, battling death at St. Mungo’s, and students were talking about him behind his back, pretending he couldn’t hear them! The cursed Gryffindor’s were the worst, they all but shouted their comments when he was in the vicinity, but the Hufflepuffs were almost as bad, staring at him silently, with their ranks closed, as if he was a dangerous monster they might have to put down! And the Ravenclaws avoided him! And all of the other prefects of his year had stated they’d not patrol with him!

Even his own house was not as supportive as it should be for the victim of a crazed, bloodthirsty murderous mudblood! Granger had almost killed him, after all. She had killed Crabbe and Goyle, and only his superior reflexes and magic had saved him from her spells! At least Pansy had welcomed him back, and sat with him, as did most of his year, but the looks some of the girls gave him, when they thought he couldn’t see them…

The school should have welcomed him back, praised him for exposing how dangerous Granger and Potter were, how corrupted by muggles! Instead he felt like an outcast. Even his own head of house had stated he’d better have an auror as a bodyguard. He, Draco Malfoy, patrolling with a bodyguard? He’d write his father, if he didn’t knew that it was his idea.

It was all Granger’s fault. If she had not killed his friends...

*****​

Ron Weasley was staring at Malfoy while he ate at the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He was so focused on studying the dark wizard, he didn’t even remember what he ate.

“He’s just sitting there, as if he had done nothing wrong.” Lavender, sitting next to him, very close too, sounded incredulous.

“He probably thinks he did nothing wrong. Scum like him believe everyone else exists to serve them.” Ron stated with conviction. Slytherins were all like that, looking down on everyone else.

“But someone has to do something, before he …” Lavender trailed off, but everyone near them understood what she meant.

“Don’t worry. He won’t be able to do anything, not with the entire school knowing about him, and an auror following him around.” Ron would feel better if Harry had left the map with them, that way they could observe every step Malfoy took. He didn’t trust the aurors, not anymore, but with enough witnesses, even Malfoy would not be able to buy his way out of trouble forever. And his brothers were working on something, just in case Malfoy had to be dealt with. Or got close to Ginny. Or Lavender.

“Snape’s still protecting him.” Lavender was not as optimistic as Ron was.

“I know. The git gave me detention for “threatening a student”, and even called my parents over it.” As if his parents would believe the git, not after what Draco had done, or tried to do.

*****​

Auror Albert Bering studied the house on the hill in front of him and his partner, Cyril Fleawood. The sun was setting, but there was still enough light to make out the old walls, and the sturdy door, and the remains of a fence. “Doesn’t look like much. Are we sure that Potter and Granger are hiding there?”

“The Granger family bought the house recently according to the paperwork at the Ministry.” Cyril shrugged. “Enough of a reason to check it out.” That was typical for Cyril. He was not lazy, quite the contrary, but he was a bit too content to follow orders, and reserved all his questioning for interrogating suspects.

“If they are there, can we expect Black and Lupin too?” Albert liked to think he questioned everything he was told - from anyone. Though he usually kept his opinion to himself. One did not advance in the Ministry otherwise, and he was looking to retire with a nice pension in a few years.

“According to our files, Black tried to kill Potter, and Lupin helped Black. If they are there, Potter and Granger are likely dead, or wishing they were.” Cyril did not sound like he cared one way or the other. After 20 years in the service, not many cared, especially if it came to dark wizards and witches.

Albert had seen the remains of Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle, but he was not quite sure that this was the work of a dark witch, mudblood or not. And yet, it was better to assume it was. “If we’re tangling with the Boy-Who-Lived or You-Know-Who’s lieutenant, plus their partners, we should maybe have more reinforcements than two aurors straight out of training.” He glanced at the two, Copperhead and whatshername, Blyren, who were laying down anti-muggle wards on the premises, as he had ordered. They had not impressed him so far, and he didn’t think they would in the near future. Too green, too innocent. Still thought they were great for passing auror training. “And I am not so sure about waiting till nightfall. I’d rather tackle the house in daylight.”

“We’re trained for night combat, they are not. We’ll have the advantage.”

“That’s what the orders said.” Albert knew they usually didn’t get such ‘recommendations’ with their orders, usually aurors were left to solve their cases as they saw fit. But if it involved the Boy-Who-Lived, rules and custom went out the floo, apparently.

“Exactly.” Cyril still did not sound concerned at all. Unflappable, Albert knew, even in combat.

He sighed. “Well, with the way our two new aurors are taking their time, we’ll not be ready to enter until the sun has set anyway.”

*****​

Roselyn was licking her lips in anticipation. Soon… soon… She could hear the aurors outside, grumbling. Impatient, or bored, either would make them sloppy. Four of them might have been a challenge for her, if they were not either old and lazy, and young and stupid. She’d still enjoy it - killing wizards never got old. Their blood tasted the sweetest.

There! The sun had set, and the two children had finished setting the wards. It was time. Roselyn stepped back from the dusty window she had been looking out of behind a thick old curtain, and disillusioned herself. A flick of her wand started dim voices and flickering lights in the cellar, just obvious enough for an auror to notice, once he was inside.

“Open up, we’re aurors!” The two old aurors were in front, the two children were behind the house. Standard tactics.

Roselyn snickered silently, wondering how often anyone would actually follow that command - one who had reasons to fear aurors, of course.

After a minute, the front door was blown open by a reducto. Roselyn raised her eyebrow. That was a bit more violent than she had expected. Maybe the auror was a pureblood with the right attitude against mudbloods? It did not matter; the Dark Lord had made it clear what was to happen, and the Vampire was only too glad to obey him - in this case. She flicked her wand again, and the voices created by her spell changed, becoming louder and more urgent.

“They’re in the cellar!”

Predictably, the old aurors called the children in, to guard their backs while they went down. The door there was locked and protected though, and would keep them occupied for a while. Time enough to deal with the children.

With the ease of long experience, she silently snuck up on the young auror watching the front door’s remains. Too distracted, too young to notice her, he was easy prey. A hand on his mouth stifled his scream when she crushed his wand - and arm - with her other hand. She dragged him into the living room, and her teeth went into his neck, feeding.

The taste of his blood, his frantic but futile attempts to break her grip with his feeble, human strength, were such a rush, she almost missed the girl appearing in the door. Almost, though - her body-binding curse got her before she could finish her own spell, and the girl was forced to watch while Roselyn drank her partner dry.

Then it was the girl’s turn. The terror in her eyes as she realized what was about to happen to her while she was utterly helpless, could not even scream, made the vampiress shiver with delight. Her hunger sated by the male auror, she didn’t drain her victim right away, but ran her fingernails over the auror’s face, leaving shallow cuts in the soft skin. Soon blood and tears were running down her cheeks, and Roselyn lapped the mixture up. Delicious!

Three dead aurors were as good as four, weren’t they? She could take this girl, and take her time with her. Maybe even turn her…

“Blyren! Copperhead! Where are you… Merlin’s balls!”

Roselyn whirled around in time and used her captive to shield her body from the flames leaping at her from the tip of the auror’s wand. Sloppy! She was angry at herself - not only had she made a beginner’s mistake, but her toy was now ruined! As expected, the old auror stopped his spell when he realized he was roasting the girl. Smiling, she threat the burning auror at him, then followed it up with a curse. “Bombarda!”

The auror had been quicker than she had expected, casting a fire spell right away upon spotting her. Good reflexes and good eyes. He was not quick enough to avoid both the burning witch and the spell and was slung to the ground from the force of the explosion that turned her toy into chunks of flesh and bone. So much blood, wasted!

Roselyn charged the auror before he could recover, her boot lashing out and shattering his hand while she sealed the stairs leading to the cellar with her wand, trapping the other old auror there.

“Ince…”

Another kick that shattered his skull ended the wizard’s attempt to burn her. A second wand, and the fortitude to draw it despite his wounds. If he had been faster and able to cast silently, he might have been a threat. She threw the body into the living room, next to her first victim, and used another bombarda to blow up both, covering the floor, walls and parts of the ceiling with blood and body parts. She didn’t like the spell, it wasted food, but orders were orders in this case.

One auror left. She could take her time with that one, she hoped. He wouldn’t escape the cellar. Then the house shook - the last auror had tried to blow a hole into the ceiling. Roselyn grinned. That one could be fun. The desperate and crafty ones usually were.

She disillusioned herself again, then removed the seal on the entrance to the cellar and sent a cloud of green gas down. It was harmless, but her foe would not now that and have to react as if it was poison. She ran down the stairs into the cellar so fast, she would have been a blur even without her spell. As expected the wizard had cast a bubblehead charm and was now banishing the harmless gas.

“Expelliarmus!” Her spell caught him, throwing him back and taking his wand away. Like his partner though he had a second wand, which appeared in his hand before he finished rolling behind what meager cover an overturned table provided.

“Reducto.” The table turned into slivers of metal - Roselyn had transfigured all the wood in the cellar beforehand, no need to give her enemies weapons against her - but the auror was protected by a shield. The blast still pushed him back, against the wall. Almost a challenge.

Piercing curses, which she prefered to explosions, broke the shield before the wizard could recover from the impact on the wall, and she rushed him, grabbing and breaking his wand arm before he could hit her with a spell.

He was a stubborn one, cursing her even while she already fed. Almost a challenge, but in the end he was just a meal.

*****​

“‘Aurors Assassinated!’ ‘Muggleborn Menace!’ We were not even near that part of Britain!” Hermione was fuming and threw the Daily Prophet on the table. “Have you seen the pictures of us? They make me look like Bellatrix, with the same hair!”

Harry was not about to say that there was a certain, vague resemblance between his girlfriend’s hair in the morning, and the dead dark witch’s hair after Azkaban. He wasn’t suicidal. Instead he commented. “The articles are full of lies. According to them, I am the next dark lord, and you’re my dark witch, and Draco’s a brave hero who tried to stop us from killing all students in Hogwarts to gain dark powers.”

“How can anyone believe that? ‘The aurors were killed with the same spells that claimed the lives of two promising students of House Slytherin, Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Goyle. One cannot help but wonder who taught the witch such spells. Rumors that she had been receiving special lessons from Headmaster Dumbledore himself are currently being investigated’. They were the dumbest students in the school, bullies who barely knew one end of a wand from the other, and everyone knew it! And the spells I used were spells everyone learned in DADA!” Hermione was pacing and throwing up her hands.

“Everyone in 7th year.” Harry winced when his girlfriend glared at him, but it was true.

“And now we’ve got a kill on sight order. Well, I’ve got one. It’s speculated that I might be controlling you, like Voldemort controlled his poor imperiused Death Eaters, so you’re still to be arrested for questioning.” Hermione sat down, still angry.

“It doesn’t matter. If they capture us we’d be murdered before we reach trial anyway.” Harry knew Malfoy had his hooks too deep in the Ministry. “And every auror who is hunting us should know better than to support such criminals like Fudge and Malfoy.” He wasn’t about to say it out loud, but he had no intention to hold back against anyone who’d go after Hermione, or himself, on Fudge’s order. He was training with Watchers, after all, and they trained to kill monsters. In Harry’s opinion, anyone who supported scum like Malfoy qualified for the same treatment.

Hermione held his gaze for a second, then nodded. She had understood him. And she approved. Her uncle had been very supportive, praising her quick reaction, which had helped her get over what remaining guilt she may have felt over killing Malfoy’s minions.

“They are blaming the Headmaster for it as well.” Hermione stabbed her finger down on the lead article. “They’ll be using this to oust him.”

Harry shrugged. Hogwarts had stopped being his home some time ago. “It’s not as if he’s been doing that much good there. Not since Umbridge came with the aurors.”

“But if the Ministry replaces him, things at Hogwarts will only get worse. Draco and his ilk will have the run of the place.”

Harry closed his eyes. Hogwarts may not feel like home anymore, but most of his friends were still there. “If it comes to that, we’ll have to do something about it. One way or the other. Do we have a communication mirror we can get to Ron?”

“I’ll make one if I need to.”

*****​

“My Ronald ‘stared menacingly’ at Draco Malfoy? That’s why you called me here?” Molly Weasley sounded like she did not trust her ears. Severus Snape winced, expecting one of her tirades. He was, of course, correct.

“That foul little Death Eater spawn tries to rape a young witch, escapes justice thanks to his father’s bloody gold, and you care about students glaring at him?! Have you called Lucius Malfoy in here as well, and complained about all the threats his criminal of a son uttered against children over the years?! What is going on at this school!?”

Severus thanked his foresight of doubling down on the privacy spells, but wished he had used one sound dampening spell on himself. Molly Weasley was as loud in person as one of her howlers. He let her run out of breath, and then spoke up before she could start again. “Would you like some tea?”

“No I do not want any tea! I want this school to be safe for children, not a hunting ground for rapists!”

Severus had known she would refuse. That was why the little incense burner behind her was currently filling the room with a derivate of a drowsing potion he had taken an antidote against beforehand. It still took a few more minutes filled with accusations and righteous anger until the redheaded witch succumbed to his concoction.

Sighing with relief, he took out the bottle of veritaserum he had prepared. He’d get the answers he needed to avoid the Dark Lord’s wrath.

*****​

“Good parade, but check your shoulder, it’s one of your tells.”

India nodded, and corrected her stance. Kit knew staff fighting. He was not as fast or strong as the Slayer, of course, but he was experienced, and a great teacher. The best a Slayer could want.

She loved training with her Watcher. Just the two of them, sparring. Trading blows and advice and quips. And Kit looked damn well in his sparring gear, even with the additional padding, when he was all focused and worked up. India herself was not wearing padding, but skin-tight exercise gear. When he had commented on it she had claimed it was so he could see her muscles better - and to distract him. He had glowered at her after that, but hadn’t been really mad. She knew him well enough.

India raised her staff, and attacked again, pushing him back with a series of quick blows. He was defending himself well, even counter-attacked a few times, but she was the Slayer. Another move caught his staff, forcing it up. She could not resist. With a twist she disarmed him, then pulled him to the side, right into an O Soto Gari. She did not hold his arm as he went down on the mat, to make sure he fell on his side, but followed him to the ground.

Before Kit could recover she was on top of him, straddling him and holding his wrists in hers, above his head. “I win.”

Kit, panting, nodded. “That was a good throw, though this position wouldn’t be a safe way to hold a Vampire.”

India nodded. She could feel him tense up under her, testing her grip, then relax again.

“You can let me up now.”

India smiled. “I could.” She did not release his wrists nor move off his stomach however. Iinstead she slid back until she was lying on top of him, her face an inch above his.

“India…” Kit was breathing heavily, she noticed, and slightly but - for a Slayer’s senses - noticeably more flushed than during their sparring.

Licking her lips, she put her lips next to his ear, pressing her cheek to his. He squirmed a bit and she was sure that if not for the padding he was wearing, she’d feel his reaction. She inhaled his scent, shivering. So close… she felt the urge to rip that padding off, rip all their clothes off, and do what she should have long ago. She resisted though. Instead she whispered “I love you” into his ear, then rolled off him.

*****​

“You are under arrest, and relieved from your position as Headmaster, Dumbledore!” Dolores Umbridge exclaimed as soon as she entered Albus’s office followed by eight aurors.

Albus Dumbledore had expected that since the day Miss Granger and Harry had left the school. Once again he lamented the mistakes he had made that allowed Lucius Malfoy to gain so much influence at the Ministry, and especially with the Minister. Outwardly though he remained calm, petting Fawkes, who was sitting in front of him on his desk. “Arrested? What are the charges?”

“Treason. Murder. Dark Magic! We know about your conspiracy to overthrow the minister!” Dolores raised her chin while the aurors fanned out. They could not spread out enough too far where they were, near the door though, and seemed not to dare to step closer to the old wizard.

Albus raised his eyebrow. “It seems Cornelius has given up any pretense of not being a puppet for Lucius then. If I may ask, who is to become the next Headmaster of Hogwarts?”

“I have been chosen for the position. I will clear this school of dissidents, rebels and dangerous elements unfit to use magic. I will make it so our precious children can be educated in a safe environment again.” Dolores smiled in triumph while the aurors with her - hand-picked by Cornelius on Lucius’s advice, no doubt - started to step closer. Their wands, pointed at him, were still not as steady as they should be, but the wizards were growing bolder with each breath they took without Albus doing anything.

“I see.” And Albus did. He had hoped Gawain would be chosen as his successor. The auror was fair, skilled, and smart. He had protected Draco from the rest of the school, which Albus had hoped would be enough to endear him to Lucius. A vain hope, as it had turned out to be, like many other hopes he had had.

“Now hand over your wa...”

Albus didn’t whisper any syllable, did not move his wand at all, other than hold it, and yet his spell slung the nine other people in his office against the stone walls with such force, most were knocked unconscious at once - a mercy, given that all had broken bones.

The old wizard slowly got up, casually stunning those aurors who were not out yet, and walked over to Dolores. The witch had not directly hit the wall, but the softer body of the auror behind her. She had been rattled anyway, and had lost her wand in the process. Now the pink-clad woman was staring at him with a fearful, shocked expression. If Albus had not known just what kind of witch she was, he might even have felt some pity, and not regret for what he was about to do.

“I had hoped Cornelius would not have descended so far into his madness as to put you in charge, Dolores. But seeing as he did, I have no choice but to do what I must, to protect the children at Hogwarts.”

Before she could say anything he stunned her, then transfigured her into a small pink doll. Mister Travers would appreciate the opportunity to interrogate her, which should create some goodwill for Albus. Dolores would not be able to torture the students and persecute the muggleborns and half-bloods. And he would not have to kill her himself.

He ordered a house elf to take the eight wounded aurors to the school’s infirmary, then sealed his office. Trying to break in would occupy whoever followed him, which would reduce the time they could spend on doing something worse. Turning towards Fawkes, Albus took a last look around the office. He had cleared it of his important possessions a week ago, but the memories were not as easy to transport or dispose of. Albus Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts, had been all he had ever wanted to be, after the follies of his youth. It hurt, leaving a position he had felt so happy in. It hurt even more, having to become someone he had never wanted to be in the first place. But as so many decades ago, there was no choice. Not anymore.

Albus Dumbledore, vanquisher of Grindelwald, was all that was left of him.

Chapter 14: Setups

 

Chapter 14: Setups

Quentin Travers stared at the ugly, drooling witch strapped to the interrogation chair in the small cell beneath the Council’s headquarters. He had expected a Death Eater, like Amycus Carrow. A monster in human shape following a mad, unnatural creature, reveling in blood and death. He hadn’t expected an even worse monster following a fool. The witch shared so many views and opinions with Death Eaters, and yet would fight them simply because they opposed the bureaucracy she was working for. The kind of evil Watchers did not have to fight often, but which humanity was familiar with.

He shook his head. To think she had been trying to kill a boy just because he told the truth about Voldemort’s return. No, to destroy his very soul. And the souls of any other humans who had the misfortune of being in the way. She had loosened demons on Britain, for political gains. The plans she had had for the school, for muggleborn wizards and witches, children still… Quentin would have understood the plans for the monsters, of course, if she had wanted them destroyed because they preyed on humans. But the witch wanted them destroyed just because they were not wizards or witches. A familiar kind of evil indeed.

He longed to watch her burn, slowly, screaming as the flames licked at her feet, then her legs, then her body. She deserved it, even more than Carrow. And yet a slow hanging would have to do in her case as well. Not just because it would be too much of a bother to burn her at a stake, but also because to indulge in revenge, instead of justice, was too dangerous. For himself, and even more so for his grandniece.

Quentin had called Hermione and Mister Potter after he had found out that Umbridge had sent the dementors to Little Whinging. The two had heard her answer themselves, after he had repeated the question. To their credit, they had not attacked the monster - then again, Mister Potter’s relatives had not been the best examples of human beings. Still, they had more self-control most teenagers had, even though they had both been trembling with rage when they had left some time ago. After they had found out just how corrupt the Ministry for Magic was.

He knew that those revelations would widen the gap between the young couple and the wizards. Knew it, and liked it.

Quentin addressed Fitzburg, who was waiting with the veritaserum: “Put the gag in again, and make sure her bindings are secure. Call me once she recovers and we can proceed with the execution.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Quentin nodded at the young Watcher and left the room. He had more plans to make.

*****​

“And I will do my utmost to restore this school to what it should be, the best school in the Magical World. Standards have slipped under my predecessor, but …”

Ron Weasley tuned the new Headmaster, Albert Runcorn, out. He knew enough. Anyone Fudge would install as Headmaster would either be a stupid toady, or a Death Eater. Or both. Runcorn seemed to be a Death Eater, or close enough. As he had mentioned twice already, he was a Slytherin alumni. His remarks on the need to show proper respect for one’s betters showed everyone with a brain that he was a bigot too. And an idiot, trying to replace Dumbledore, after the Headmaster had wiped the floor with a dozen aurors and sealed his office so no one had been able to enter it ever since.

The young wizard looked around in the Great Hall. The Gryffindors were frowning, muttering under their breaths. Rebellious. The Hufflepuffs seemed to sit even closer together, with the youngest near the oldest, in the middle. Spaced so they would be easy to protect. The Ravenclaws were cold, distant. No surprise, their Head of House had too much goblin blood for the Ministry’s liking. And the Slytherins, or most of them, were smiling, triumphantly. Especially Malfoy.

Ron didn’t smirk, though he felt like it. The idiots thought they had won. They were wrong. He glanced over at Lavender, who was keeping her attention on the Slytherins, and squeezed her hand under the table, providing what comfort he could without being obvious. Malfoy wouldn’t hurt her, or anyone else.

*****​

“What do you have?” Ron asked, sitting on his bed next to Lavender. The room was a bit crowded, even with Harry missing - and that thought still made him wince with pain. Neville was there, Dean, Seamus, Ginny, his brothers and the rest of the Quidditch team, Lee - most of Gryffindor’s fifth year and older students were here, actually. At least the ones with guts.

Fred grinned with a feral expression he shared with George. “We’ve got a lot of pranks ready. Nasty ones. As soon as the Slytherins try to lord it over others, they’ll pay. Pomfrey will be very busy.”

Ron nodded. “And the snakes will try to lord it over us. You all saw them in the Great Hall.” Not all of the Slytherins had looked smug, but Ron didn’t care much, at this point.

“Remember, stay together as much as possible. Don’t go anywhere alone. And if you see Malfoy, inform the rest. If we keep an eye on him, he can’t do anything.” Ron stated. And if Malfoy tried anything anyway, it would not result in more work for Matron Pomfrey. The Weasleys had an understanding. Malfoy had crossed a line he should not have crossed. “Keep in touch with the Puffs and Ravens. We’re in the same boat.”

“What if the new Headmaster calls the aurors to arrest us?” Neville asked. “I’ve heard from Gran that he’s a Ministry stooge and would do that.”

Ron had heard similar things from his dad, and even Percy had come to his senses, after he had realized what Malfoy could do to Ginny. “We’ve got the ‘Room of Requirement’. If worst comes to worst, anyone can hide there until,” he looked at Harry’s bed before continuing, ”help arrives.” The other students understood. Or thought they understood. They didn’t know about the Slayer, of course.

If the new, fake Headmaster was dead, Ron thought with a ruthlessness that surprised him, then someone with more sense could take over, and keep the Ministry out until things there … changed. The wards of the school were among the strongest in the world, and with the Slayer as help, they could deal with the aurors in the school, and the Slytherins.

*****​

Severus Snape wasn’t trembling or shaking when he met the Dark Lord, but he was nervous. Voldemort had been growing more and more impatient - and violent - lately. Even less forgiving than he had been too. The loss of Bellatrix and the lack of progress with regards to the prophecy affected his mood. Hopefully the news that Dumbledore was now wanted for kidnapping, treason, murder, Dark Magic, and conspiracy against the Ministry had improved his mood.

“My Lord?”

“Ah, Severus. Step forward. What news do you have to report?” Voldemort, his inhuman face smiling, seemed to be in a good mood as he beckoned the Potion Master to come closer to what was serving as his throne.

“I’ve managed to find out the names of two people who were involved with the murder of Bellatrix.”

The Dark Lord hissed and grew still for a moment, then stood up with a smooth, flowing movement. Both showed that he was no longer human, even more so than his appearance. His robes billowed out behind him in a way that Severus couldn’t help but notice, and compare to the charms on his own robe before he got ahold of himself.

“Tell me who dared to slay my Bellatrix. Tell me their names.” Voldemort stepped in front of Severus, so close the Potion Master could see every detail on his monstrous face.

He kept his composure, used to such sights. “William and Charlie Weasley, my Lord. The eldest sons of Arthur Weasley.”

The Dark Lord seemed to tremble with rage. “Arthur Weasley… the one who slew my Nagini. His sons slew my Bellatrix?”

Severus nodded. It was not entirely correct, but they had helped.

“They will pay. Their entire family will pay for this. Leave me. I have plans to make.”

“Yes, my Lord.” Severus bowed, and left, passing Rookwood as he left the room. He briefly wondered what the former Unspeakable was up to, but then focused on whether or not he should warn Dumbledore about the Dark Lord’s plans for the Weasleys. Most of the redheaded brood was useless, as were their parents, but the eldest sons had proven to be useful in the battle against Voldemort. But useful enough to be worth the risk of exposure, how slim it might be?

And wouldn’t their resolve and dedication increase, should their family suffer a tragic loss at the hands of Voldemort’s Death Eaters? Revenge, as Severus knew very well, was a very powerful motivation. Besides, the family could spare more than a few members for the cause - there were far too many of them around as it was, and they were troublemakers, the lot of them at Hogwarts, picking on his Slytherins.

*****​

Quentin Travers looked up from the summary of the information the Council had gotten from Umbridge when his secretary announced Mister Botwell. The young Watcher looked a bit … agitated. For a Watcher, of course. Since Botwell had stared death in the eye multiple times, and faced unspeakable horrors, as the Watcher of the current Slayer was wont to do, Quentin was quite curious what might have led the man to seek him out without an appointment. It couldn’t be an emergency, he had seen Botwell deal with those before, with unflappable composure.

“Have a seat, Mister Botwell. What was it you needed to speak to me about?” Quentin put the report away.

The young man drew a deep breath, then met his eyes. “I have to report an issue that could jeopardize the performance of the Slayer.”

He had Quentin’s full attention now, and judging from the young man’s stiffening posture, he knew just how serious this was. “Please elaborate.”

“The Slayer seems to be infatuated with me. She has made advances that leave no doubt, Sir.”

Quentin raised an eyebrow, but he was relaxing already. That certainly was not something serious. Isolated young girl, on the cusp of womanhood, fighting at the side of an older, more mature man, not related to her - it was almost a textbook case for the development of such feelings. “Do you fear for your virtue, Mister Botwell?”

The younger Watcher stared at him. “N-no, Sir. She’d never… I mean… not India.”

As amusing as it seemed, Quentin wasn’t sure he’d be so trusting in the other man’s place. There had been reports in the past, of Slayers who had been a tad too aggressive, but Miss Cohen was Botwell’s slayer, and he had to trust his judgement. It was his virtue anyway.

“Ah. So you are not sure if you can resist her. Do you return her feelings then, Mister Botwell?”

This time the Watcher looked down. “Yes, Sir.” he perssed out, obviously ashamed of himself.

“There shouldn’t be a problem then.”

Botwell’s head flew up and he stared at him with wide, open eyes. “Sir?”

Quentin smiled indulgently at the naivety of youth. “Mister Botwell, this is not the first time such a situation has come up. Far from it. The bonds between a Watcher and his Slayer are tight, and given their situation, very likely to grow into something else. Sometimes a bond similar to that between a parent and a daughter develops, sometimes it’s a more romantic relationship.”

“B-but, Sir…”

“Mister Botwell. You know the life expectancy of a Slayer.”

“Yes, Sir.” Botwell nodded, wincing.

“There’s nothing wrong with letting a Slayer be happy while she can. They tend to live longer that way. And since you return her feelings and she’s above the age of consent…” Quentin spread his hands. He didn’t mention that a Watcher often did not survive their Slayer’s demise - everyone knew that when volunteering for such an assignment.

Botwell still looked like his Slayer had hit him over the head with a mace, but he nodded again.

“If that’s all then I think this matter is settled.” Quentin dismissed him with another, patronizing smile.

Once the young man had left his office, the old watcher stood up and walked over to the window,. He stared at the city, but he didn’t see it, not really. He remembered another Slayer, and the regrets, after her death, of never having offered her the kind of comfort she had been seeking. And he wondered if she would have served longer as a Slayer, if he had.

*****​

Lucius Malfoy was close, again, to hexing Fudge the Fool, as he thought of him. The Minister for Magic’s Undersecretary had been kidnapped by Dumbledore. That was a serious situation - the ugly toad knew far too much about the deals Fudge had made, but Lucius was reasonably sure she didn’t know too much about his personal dealings with the Minister. He had informed the Dark Lord about this, and if he should be proven wrong, the result would be a disaster. Despite this, Lucius was too experienced as a politician to let his annoyance and concern show.

“We cannot fret over Dolores too much, Cornelius. Even senile and mad, Dumbledore would not kill her - he has just stunned the aurors sent after him, after all.” It would have been much better had the old wizard killed those who stood against him, in Lucius’s opinion. Less loose ends.

“You’re right, my friend, of course. We cannot give up hope.”

Lucius smiled blandly. “Instead we should worry about our children. Dumbledore has his office sealed, and certainly knows ways in and out of Hogwarts no one else does. There need to be more aurors present, in case he returns. Imagine if he kidnapped children!”

Fudge gaped. “Merlin! You are right! We have to do something! I’ll send a another two squads of aurors there.”

That was good - Draco would be safer, his son had complained about vicious attacks on Slytherins - but not good enough for the Dark Lord. “But you’d better keep more aurors ready to reinforce them. Dumbledore defeated eight of your best aurors, he cannot be taken lightly.” Aurors chosen for their political reliability instead of their skill, but nevertheless, it was an impressive feat. Although, or so Lucius thought, likely the result of a trap in the Headmaster’s office.

“You’re right, of course. I’ll see to it at once. We have to think of the children.”

Lucius was feeling more at ease when he left the Minister’s office. Not only would his son be protected from those blood traitors who threatened him and believed the lies spread by Potter and his mudblood, but the Dark Lord’s plan was set in motion. Soon the prophecy would be in his hands.

*****​

And lo and behold, Myrken the Mad drew his wand out of his palm, as if it was a holster. No blood flowed, nor did he show any sign of pain - another sign of his madness.

Hermione Granger studied the paragraph she had just read again. That was the second source she had found in the Council’s library that talked about Myrken Flenswater being able to create extradimensional pockets in his body as if they were bags. As intriguing as such a spell was - she could think of a number of applications besides mere storage, though they’d require more testing - if he had been able to do this, would he have taken his life’s works with him, to Azkaban? Unwillingly, or willingly? How likely had he been to keep his most advanced achievements on, no, inside him all the time?

Very likely, she decided. And if he had it at Azkaban, would it still be in his cell, or in his grave? She stared at the paragraph again. If her theory was right, then she’d have to head to Azkaban, the most infamous place of Wizarding Britain. Even with the dementors gone, and the human guards and those prisoners who had survived Voldemort’s assault - if there were any - moved to the mainland, it would be dangerous. The wards might still be active - would still be active, probably. Some dementors might have returned even.

It was dangerous, but it needed to be done. Harry’s life, his soul, depended on it. Hermione quickly sketched down notes to present her case as perfectly as possible, then gathered the relevant books and went off to see her Great-Uncle.

She tried not to think of the horrors that might await her. Harry needed this, needed her. And she’d do anything for him.

*****​

“Why do we have to travel by night?” Harry Potter asked again. He didn’t seem to think visiting Azkaban at night was a good idea.

“The ferryman is off duty now, so no one will miss him, or his amulet. With that we can take the official route to Azkaban without triggering alarms. Otherwise we’d have to deal with all the misdirection wards, which could alert the Ministry,” Hermione explained. The ferryman was currently under the influence of a potion, and in his home, while the amulet was with them. “We’re harder to spot that way too.” Wizards didn’t have invented magical night vision goggles yet, as far as she knew. Something else to enchant, once she had time - the usual models didn’t work in areas saturated with magic.

“There’s the Disillusion Charm.”

“Not even the Headm…. Dumbledore can disillusion an entire ferry.” Hermione would have felt as bad or worse as Harry about this, if the old wizard had not been with them. Between Dumbledore, Fitzburg, Wilkinson - another Watcher wizard - and the Slayer and Botwell, they should be safe enough though. Harry had insisted on coming with her anyway. And seeing as the island had been the home of the Dementors, having the boy who sent dozens of the demons fleeing with one spell when he was but a third year student with them was a smart move.

“We could have flown.”

“Over the sea? And through their misdirection wards?” Hermione didn’t like flying on brooms. Too flimsy, too dangerous. “And India and Mister Botwell can’t use brooms.” And Hermione herself wasn’t a good flyer either, not that she would say so out loud. She had her pride.

“We could have doubled up.”

“Harry… we’ll be there soon enough.” She reached out and took his hand, then pulled him to her, wrapping her arm around his waist as the barge they were on sped through the night, towards the island hidden from normal humans. Fortunately the sea was calm this night. She wasn’t sure there were charms to deal with rougher seas. Harry sighed, but held her.

Behind them the Slayer was sitting next to Mister Botwell - very close to him. A bit closer and she’d be sitting in his lap, Hermione thought. Something had changed between those two, she was certain of that, but she didn’t want to ask. What if they were not allowed to have a relationship, and she’d mess it up for them by exposing them? She wouldn’t do that to anyone in love, not after she had fallen in love herself. Or had finally realized she had fallen in love long ago.

Suddenly she felt a tingling running over her skin and the empty area in front of them was replaced with a looming island, barely visible in the moonlight. Azkaban. The island of despair and madness. She shivered, but told herself it was just the cold air overcoming her warming charms - it wasn’t even spring yet.

*****​

“Are you sure of that, Severus?” The Dark Lord’s voice held the promise of unimaginable pain should Severus’s information turn out to be wrong.

“I am, My Lord.” Severus Snape bowed. “Dumbledore has contacted me and told me he’ll be away, outside Britain, for some time.” The former Headmaster had indeed done so. He wouldn’t have expected Severus to inform the Dark Lord of that, but he hadn’t forbidden it either. Severus didn’t see any harm using this information to improve his standing with the Dark Lord, to gain more of his trust and informations, could possibly cause. Potter and the mudblood were safe, Dumbledore had reassured him of that, so the worst that could happen was that the Order lost some more dunderheads. As long as Potter and Dumbledore were safe everyone else was expendable. And Dumbledore would be back the next day anyway.

“Very good.” Voldemort smiled, his thin lips opening and showing perfectly white teeth. “You have done well, Severus. We will use this opportunity to secure the Prophecy while the old fool is away.” He turned to Lucius Malfoy, who was waiting a bit away. “Lucius, order the decoy to start his work.”

“At once, My Lord.” The sycophantic blond wizard bowed so deep, his head almost hit the stone floor, and disappeared with a grace Severus was still jealous of, after close to 20 years. The Potion Master did not dwell on that though - he had to find a way to inform Dumbledore that the prophecy was in danger!

*****​

Azkaban was as desolate and dark as Harry had imagined. All of them but Wilkinson, who was staying on the ferry as a guard, had stepped off the dock and were walking on the path leading up the the prison now. No plant seemed to grow on the rocky island, nothing shielded it from the cold winds of the North Sea. The walls in front of them were so dark, they seemed to become part of the night sky as they rose above them, and the whole island seemed to be a few degrees colder than the air above the sea around it. He shuddered, imagining that Sirius had spent over a decade here, unjustly imprisoned. And his godfather had been tortured by Dementors as well.

Harry glanced at Hermione, who was looking around with interest. The young witch at least didn’t let the gloomy surroundings get to her, focusing on her mission instead. Determined, stubborn, brave - that was his Hermione. He smiled at her, and was rewarded with a brief smile in return, before she focused on the prison again.

“Remember, apparition is impossible on the island, and in the surrounding waters. You have to go quite a distance to pass through the wards before you can apparate away.” Dumbledore explained, leading the group - he had been there before, if not often, as he had explained. “Inside the prison proper, disillusion charms will not work. Those wards were not extended over the whole island though, since at the time of their creation, warding enclosed stone buildings was far cheaper than warding areas.”

Harry listened, if not with as much attention as Hermione. The impromptu history lesson did serve to distract him from more morbid thoughts though, which likely was what the older wizard had intended.

A sudden movement to his side caught his attention. He whirled around, wand pointed at the disturbance, and spotted a dog-sized creature on the ground, four misshapen limbs jerking and twitching. A dagger was buried to the hilt in its monstrous head.

“Gith’enre demon. A variant of a hellhound according to some scholars. Attracted to areas saturated in misery and death.” Botwell explained while the Slayer retrieved her dagger. “It generally won’t attack an adult human, unless desperate or sensing a weakness.”

That did not make Harry feel safer. Who knew if he or Hermione counted as adults in the eyes of a demon?

“I don’t sense any other demons nearby.”

India’s pronouncement on the other hand did make Harry feel safer, and he nodded at her with a smile. Even so the interruption had destroyed the scholarly mood, and the group continued in silence towards the gate of the prison.

“The graveyard is inside the walls. The first Minister to use the island as a prison declared no inmate would be leaving, not even after death. That changed when shorter prison sentences were introduced, but the graveyard’s location did not.” Dumbledore explained while opening the gate with a flick of his wand.

They walked through a dark, narrow passage - lined with murder holes in the ceiling, as Hermione helpfully pointed out to Harry - into a courtyard lined with walls of such a height that the area, despite its size, seemed likely to be shrouded in shadows even during the day. Several lines of densely packed small stone plates were visible to the side - headstones, Harry realized. Hermione was already walking towards them, and he ran after her. Who knew what monsters could rise from their graves, in such a cursed location? Vampires were bad enough…

Just as Hermione had found the grave she had been looking for, a white, luminous dove arrived near Dumbledore. A Patronus.

“Headmaster. The Dark Lord is moving to secure the Prophecy. He has set plans in motion to lure the aurors to Hogwarts too.”

That had been Snape’s voice… Harry would recognize it anywhere.

Dumbledore turned to them. “Voldemort is moving into the Department of Mysteries.”

“He can’t get the prophecy.” Hermione stated. Harry knew that as well - they had replaced it with a copy for just this very reason.

“Indeed. But with the aurors off on a foolish chase to Hogwarts, there are a number of things he can do in the Ministry to advance his goals, and more terrible deeds he could get up to in the Department of Mysteries. Furthermore, I cannot let the opportunity to expose him pass.” The old wizard drew a shrunken broom out of a pocket and enlarged it. He sounded apologetic. “You can continue your work here safely, since Voldemort and his forces are busy at Hogwarts and the Ministry.” He handed the ferryman’s amulet over to Harry, and flew off.

Suddenly, the island felt far colder, and far more dangerous. Their most powerful protector had just left them.

*****​

“All students will be returning at once to their dorms. Prefects, make sure no one is left unaccounted for.” McGonagall’s voice, amplified with a Sonorous, cut through chatter of the Great Hall during the evening meal while Runcorn and the aurors including the Defense Professor left in a hurry.

“At least they have learned from the troll incident.” Ron muttered. He looked at Fred, then nodded to the Slytherin table. His brother nodded and poked George.

“First years, line up with me! Second years, to Lavender!” Ron shouted and started counting the by now quite nervous looking first years while the other prefects called the older years to them. Once he was certain that all of the ickle firsties were present he had them form a column, two abreast, and started to herd them towards the Gryffindor dorm. He really wanted to know what was happening, but he had to make sure the children were safe first. And Ginny of course. His brothers would make sure Malfoy would not use this opportunity to do anything.

*****​

Albus Dumbledore flew over the North Sea. He paid the dark, cold waters beneath him no notice, focusing on the upcoming confrontation with Voldemort. As soon as he had passed the wards around the island, he apparated to the cottage he was hiding in, shrunk his broom and grabbed a mirror. “Saul?”

“Yes?” came the response. His friend didn’t appear in the mirror though - a precaution both wizards had agreed upon beforehand and which had proven its use after Albus had become a wanted wizard.

“The visit we were talking about is happening tonight.”

“I understand.”

Nothing more needed to be said; they had made plans for such an event in advance. Stashing the mirror in a pocket in his robe, Albus donned a dark blue robe, far more subdued than his usual attire, with a hood, disillusioned himself and apparated to Diagon Alley.

He had his biggest failure as a teacher to face.

*****​

“What’s happening?” Ron asked as soon as the twins entered the dorms.

Both looked grim, far more serious than their usual joking attitude. Had Malfoy…

Fred shook his head before Ron could ask. “Malfoy’s been quite docile, his bodyguard hauled him off to the dungeons with him barely muttering a whining comment about his father.” The Slytherins had stepped lightly around the school, after the first round of pranks had sent the entire Quidditch team into the infirmary. Snape had been livid, but there had been no proof at all that it had been the twins - such nasty pranks were not their usual style, after all.

“But there’s a load of red robes in the Castle. Most of the auror corps seems to be in Hogwarts now - we were almost hexed for being a bit late, if not for McGonagall stepping in.” George added.

“In other news, Gryffindor is down 50 points.” Fred grinned briefly.

“With so many aurors here, either Voldemort or Dumbledore have to be in the castle. No one else would rate this kind of force” Ron’s statement was received with gasps and cries from the rest of Gryffindor listening. A few of the younger students started to weep.

“Good going, Ron. Next time, use a privacy spell.” Ginny buried her elbow in his side. As if that would have helped - gossip and rumors traveled faster than a Firebolt in Hogwarts.

Ron ignored the rebuke from his sister. “If we had the bloody map, we could check.” If only there was a safe way to contact Harry and Hermione - but the Ministry controlled the owl post.

“It cannot be Voldemort, the Ministry still won’t accept that he is back.” Fred added. More gasps were the result of him saying the Dark Lord’s name out loud, again.

“But if it’s Dumbledore we should help him!” Ginny exclaimed. “If they catch him…”

“He’s Dumbledore, he won’t get caught. We wouldn’t stand a chance against so many aurors anyway, not even if every Gryffindor came with us.” Fred shook his head.

“But there’s something we can do. We can distract the aurors. Lure them away. Make them chase shadows.” Ron looked at the twins. “It’s dangerous, but it’ll help Dumbledore.

Fred and George grinned. “Consider it done.”

*****​

Roselyn licked her lips when she spotted the ferry moored at Azkaban’s small dock. It had taken her some time to reach the island on her broom, after she had felt the Gith’enre she had left there dying, but she was in luck - her prey was still there. Thanks to the amulet that Death Eater in the DMLE had provided and which Lucius had been so generous to loan her - she chuckled at the memory of that little encounter - she could pass through the wards without problem.

Her eyes were not hampered by the lack of light at all and she easily spotted the guard on the ferry right after she had passed the wards. The undead witch pulled up immediately to gain altitude. Humans or wizards, they rarely ever looked up.

That wizard - muggleborn, he was not wearing robes - didn’t either, so she could approach him without getting noticed. Five meters above him, she dropped from her broom on him, driving the man headfirst into the wooden planks of the ferry before he knew what had happened. He was dead at once, but his blood was still warm, and after making sure no one else was near or had noticed the attack, she drank greedily.

Sated, the vampiress stood up, wiped her mouth and started towards the prison. With a guard left at the ferry, there were bound to be others inside it. Twirling her wand between her fingers, she smiled. She’d have some fun tonight. More fun than she’d have had at the Ministry.


Chapter 15: Cutting Loose

 

Chapter 15: Cutting Loose

Albus Dumbledore apparated into a side alley in London, near the Ministry for Magic. He was alone. He had told the rest of the Order of the Phoenix to gather and be ready, but hadn’t called them to the Ministry - they might be needed elsewhere, and being seen with him would both incriminate and expose them. It was bad enough that Sirius and Remus were wanted men; he’d not let others share their fate.

“Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, here to battle the Dark Lord Voldemort.” Albus stated after entering the phone booth that hid the street level entrance to the Ministry. He was mildly amused to read ‘Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, delusionally wandering around’ on the badge that was created. It seemed that even the system handling visitors, often a source of accidental insight or humor, had fallen in line with Fudge’s decrees. As the elevator descended, he grew more serious, and drew the Elder Wand. Tom would have the floos blocked and Death Eaters guarding the entrances, ready for intruders. He’d discover soon if they were ready for him as well.

Before the elevator reached the lobby of the Ministry he conjured several slabs of stone, a foot wide and 6 foot high, floating in front of him. A shield followed right when the door opened.

“Avada Kedavra!”

A Death Eater had been waiting for the door to open. His Killing Curse was stopped by the first slab of stone though and caused it to explode in a cloud of shards and splinters that harmlessly bounced off Albus’s shield. A flick of the Elder Wand sent one slab right at the caster, and a second at another Death Eater who was about to cast another Killing Curse. Albus almost shook his head - no imagination there, or tactical awareness.

“Its theUgh!”

“Avada KedAargh!”

Both slabs smashed into their targets with enough power to throw them back several yards, coming to a stop on the polished stone floor with broken bones and faces. A series of bone-breaker curses crushed their legs and hands, ensuring that neither would be walking or casting until after getting Skele-Gro treatment. He still summoned their wands and pocketed them, then stunned them.

Looking around, Albus spotted no other threat, just the corpse of the night guard. Another death on his conscience, he thought, and on Tom’s, as he walked towards the elevator that would transport him to the Department of Mysteries.

*****​

Hermione Granger was staring at the coffin they had unearthed with a few vanishing and earthmoving spells she had learned for the occasion. Buried vertically, which had been expected after seeing how small the area allocated to a single grave was, it was made of oak wood and brass, and time had taken its toll on both. After a quick examination, she came to the conclusion that there were no spells or traps on it.

“Alohomora. Wingardium Leviosa.”

The wooden lid lifted slowly off the coffin, trailing dust and dirt, and splinters from the lid itself. Inside the coffin they found a corpse, bent and crooked from at the foot of the coffin, barely more than skin, hair and bones. Hermione heard Harry make a noise of disgust, but ignored it. This corpse held the key to Harry’s salvation. Another levitation spell had it out of the coffin. After putting on plastic gloves, she pull the arms, which had been folded over the chest, out. The arms ended in stumps.

“They cut his hands off.” For a moment, frustration and rage threatened to overcome her. She managed to control herself though, and ran her wand over the corpse. If he had stored his wand in his left hand, then he might have chosen another body part for his grimoire. There still was hope.

“Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!”

She started casting counterspells on every part of the body. The grimoire had to be there! It had to! Then, as she was about to despair, she heard a slurping sound, and a hole opened in the corpse’s chest, right over the heart. She held her breath. Was that… yes! She caught a glimpse of a tome inside, black and golden covers and spine. She was about to reach inside when Harry grabbed her hand.

“It could be trapped.” He said, cutting off her scathing remark.

Grudgingly, she acknowledged his precaution, and they levitated the grimoire out instead. It looked as if it was in perfect condition - preservation and protection spells, or the effects of the extradimensional body pocket… she really needed to find a better name.

“This is it. The Grimoire of Myrken Flenswater. We did it, Harry, we did it!” The young witch hugged the wizard standing at her side, then smiled at the rest of their friends, on the other side of the floating grimoire. Her expression changed though, the smile vanishing, when she spotted a figure at the gate, behind the group, with a wand pointed at them.

*****​

Ron Weasley flinched when he heard another loud explosion. His brothers were, maybe, overdoing it a bit. One of the doors the Room of Requirement had created on his command opened, and the twins ran through, then slammed it close. “Make it vanish! They are right behind us!” Fred shouted. Ron did so and he heard another, if not as loud, explosion in the castle.

“Whew. That was close.” George let out a relieved sigh. “Those aurors don’t really fool around.”

His twin nodded. “Yes, but they are now convinced Dumbledore is in the dungeons. We’ve trapped a number of rooms there, that should keep them busy for a while.”

“And if we’re lucky they blow up Malfoy by accident.” George added, with a malicious smile.

“Good work you two.” Ron smiled at them. “Now we can prepare the astronomy tower for another distraction.” He turned to a door on his side, and opened it. Behind it lay his own dorm room. “Ginny?”

“Nothing, Ron. Just like when you asked the last few times.” His sister answered, her tone clearly showing that she was not fond of her task in this mission.

Ron didn’t care. He’d die before he’d let Ginny risk herself. “Keep it up, Ginny. We’re counting on you to warn us if aurors or teachers enter so we can get back before they reach our rooms.”

He closed the door before nodding to Fred and George. “One door to the Astronomy Tower, coming up.”

*****​

In the elevator Albus conjured a stone statue, shaping it into a crude likeness of a Death Eater wearing a mask and robe, then disillusioned himself and stepped to the side. The doors opened, revealing two Death Eaters to the sides.

“Why are you here? What’s happening upstairs?”

His construct took a few steps inside the hall, unable to answer, and Albus used the opportunity to slip out of the elevator, unseen, and cast two wordless Silencing Charms on them before sending the construct at one of the wizards while banishing the other into a wall. The Death Eather hit with a sickening crack and slid down, leaving a trail of blood on the stone. The other was pelting the construct with weak blasting spells, apparently unable to either finite the charm or casting wordlessly. An expelliarmus from Albus relieved him of his wand, and the statute proceeded to smash his limbs. Albus was about to do the same to the man he had banished into the wall when the mask slowly slid off and he saw the sightless eyes of Vincent Crabbe’s father staring at him - the impact on the wall had killed the wizard.

Sighing, Albus stunned the other wizard, then proceeded down the hall. Four Death Eaters dealt with, but more were no doubt waiting, and Tom too. And he coldn’t count on them remaining separated into small groups that were easily overcome.

A faint, guilty grin appeared on his face when he realized he didn’t want them to.

*****​

“Bombarda Maxima!”

India Cohen had noticed Granger’s reaction, and had been turning around already when she heard the whispered incantation and saw a spell flying towards her. And towards Kit! She whirled around again and grabbed Kit, pushing him down and covering him with her own body right before the spell hit and the graveyard exploded. A few splinters hit her, one going into her thigh, others getting stopped by her leather jacket and boots, but she didn’t care. Kit mattered more.

Her Watcher was coughing, but reasonably unhurt. She didn’t smell blood from him either. her instincts urged her to jump up and charge whoever had dared attacking her, and kill them, but instead she pulled Kit up and started towards the inner doors to the main prison - the closest cover they could reach in the cloud of dust the spell had thrown up.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

She heard the next spell, and threw Kit down again. That explosion was a bit further away, and only pebble-sized splinters rained down on them. She heard a cry a bit away - Fitzburg, probably. So he was still alive. This time she carried more than pushed Kit and they reached the door before she heard the next spell.

“Bombarda Maxima!”

She pushed Kit down again, ignoring his protests, and threw herself at the door, but bounced off. Locked and reinforced by magic, no doubt - it was a prison for wizards, after all. Then the spell hit the door, and she could just shield her face with her arms before she was thrown back by the blast and showered with shreds and shards of wood.

*****​

Roselyn smiled when she saw the result of her spells. The courtyard was filled with debris and craters now, two of the prey were down, right when they had thought they had reached the safety of the prison proper. Another was staggering, wounded and barely able to cast. A banishment spell hit him, almost breaking his shield, and threw him back head over heels behind a broken grave marker. And the two children… she spotted them running towards the side, the girl clutching a big tome to her chest. Silly witch.

“Confringo!” The spell hit the girl and the resulting explosion threw up another cloud of debris and dust, momentarily obscuring them from Roselyn’s view. They wouldn’t be able to get up for a while though, enough time to deal with the last wizard standing, then she could enjoy herself.

That wizard - a muggleborn since he was not wearing robes - was on his knees, one arm dangling uselessly at his side and dripping blood. Her fangs came out at the sight, even before the delicious smell reached her nose. Wizard blood! her face must have changed too, his eyes widened and he shouted “Vampire witch!” before flicking his wand and casting at her. His aim was off though, the spell was going wide and up - he must be hurt worse than Roselyn had thought, a contemptuous sneer on her face. She wanted a challenge!

Suddenly she was caught by the blinding light of the sun, shining directly down at the courtyard. Screaming, she tried to shield herself, to reach the safety of the next shadow before she burned to ash… she wasn’t burning! It wasn’t the sun, but a spell! The Wizard! Snarling, she jumped to the side, narrowingly dodging a fire whip trying to behead her.

“Good try, wizard, but not good enough!” She said, sending a few quick curses at him that forced him to dodge instead of following up with more strikes from the whip. Another small blasting curse at the ground in front of her threw up a cloud of dust that obscured her just enough to let her disillusion herself, and start to flank the wizard.

He was good, she had to admit. He had started to move as soon as the cloud went up, and when he could see her, he only started to run faster. Not fast enough, of course. Not by far. She jumped and sprinted across the graveyard, invisible and unstoppable, coming at him on a roundabout course.

“Homenum Revelio.” He managed to reveal her despite her flanking him, but she was already too close and too fast for him to cast another spell. Roselyn slammed into him and broke his good arm, causing his wand to drop. She had him now! Grinning, she grabbed his collar and lifted him up, baring her fangs so he could see them - she loved the expression of terror prey had when they realized they were about to be eaten.

The wizard was snarling though, and raised his broken arm towards her in a defiant gesture. No matter, he’d scream when she would feast on him. Then he flicked his wrist, grunting with pain, and a cross appeared in his palm. Hissing, she recoiled, dropping him. That lousy little meal…

The wizard was already trying to grab his wand, with his bleeding arm. He was too slow, and too hurt though, and the cross could not keep her from casting at him, once she had gained some distance and recovered her wits. He screamed, then, when her curse broke his bleeding arm, and when her next curse blew his right hand and that damned cross up.

And he still did not give up. He even tried to kick her when she stepped closer, his eyes full of hatred. She stomped on his leg, breaking it, then did the same to the other leg, making him scream again. And still his eyes were full of hatred, not fear, when they met hers, right before she sank her fangs into his throat and started to feed.

*****​

Albus knew the way to the Hall of Prophecies well. The rotating room, meant to disorient those not familiar with the department, was no obstacle for a wizard who knew the runes etched into the doors and hidden by magic because he had been there when they were created. A touch from his wand opened the correct door, revealing the long hallway with the sealed door at the end - and Tom, surrounded by eight Death Eaters.

Albus pointed the Elder Wand at the floor, and the marble surface started to sprout grasping, battering and crushing arms twice the size of Hagrid’s in a wave rushing towards his enemies. Two robed wizards were struck and dragged down, crushed by the appendages before the others could react. The Dark Lord didn’t hesitate, and his spell flattened the area, smashing the arms as well as his two trapped followers, and breaking Albus’s spell. The rest fired curses at him, but they were stopped by the now frozen stone arms filling the hallway. Predictable. Not many appreciated the indirect, oblique spells.

“Dumbledore!” Tom shouted, his inhuman face pulled into a grimace of hatred.

“Tom.” Albus nodded at his old foe and former student, then stepped back into the rotating room. A cloud of green acid filled the room, burning his skin for a second before he countered it. Tom of course was not as limited in his imagination as most of his followers. Albus drenched himself in a neutralizing liquid he had become familiar with in his studies of Alchemy before the acid on his skin could do significant harm to him or his robes. He was still smoking a little when he cast a few tracking charms at the floor and disillusioned himself before opening a door to another hallway - the one leading to the potion division and cast another spell at the ground there.

He heard Tom order his remaining half a dozen Death Eaters to pursue him. Predictable again.

He had moved further back, towards the door he had come from, when a hail of curses flew through the door to the Hall of Prophecies, harmlessly splashing against the enchanted wall at the back. One robed dark wizard charged inside, shouting and casting wildly even as he rolled and came up again.

When he saw the open door he cried “He fled this way!” and charged right through the door. His scream when he fell through the floor was cut short when Albus canceled the spell he had cast, and stone filled the space again - and the now trapped man’s mouth and lungs. The hands sticking out from the smooth stone floor stopped twitching quickly.

“Fools!” Tom cursed. “Don’t charge ahead like brainless idiots!” Work together!”

Five Death Eaters left. And Tom. Albus skin was burning, but no worse than a nasty sunburn. He was breathing a bit more heavily though - he was not a young wizard anymore, after all - but by no means exhausted. Conjuring a few hundred rats and bats, he sent the two swarms inside the rotating room and fell back further towards the elevator. There was no point in wrecking the Department of Mysteries and their experiments if he could drag the fight up into the atrium.

*****​

Hermione Granger should be dead. But she was hurting too much to be dead. She knew that as well. That first Bombarda Maxima’s blast had hurt her already, if not as much as she had feared - thanks to Harry throwing himself over her. But that Blasting curse the Vampire Witch had cast at her, that had hit her dead center. She had seen, had felt it hit, and explode. She ran her hands over her chest - all whole. Her head hurt, and her legs were bleeding from multiple wounds, but her chest and face were untouched. How was that possible? Had Harry? Harry!

She rolled over, summoning her wand and looking around. The dust from the explosions was still settling, making it hard to see anything. There he was! She crawled over to him, gritting her teeth when pain shot through her legs. She could deal with pain, no matter how bad, when Harry needed her. He was bleeding from multiple wounds, but he was breathing, and groaning. She quickly cast Episkey on his wounds, then on hers. It wasn’t a powerful healing spell, but it was enough to deal with small wounds - like those from splinters and shrapnel, provided they didn’t hit anything vital.

But why hadn’t… the book! The grimoire! She spotted the book, on the ground near where she had been. Untouched. Not even dirty. The spell had hit the book, and the protections on it had saved it, and shielded her from most of the blast! She grabbed it again. It was the reason they had come here, if they lost it all would have been for nothing!

Then she heard a scream, and another. She recognized the voice - Fitzburg! He was hurt! She turned her wand on Harry.

“Ennervate!”

Harry woke up, shaking his head, then hissed in pain. Her spells had not fixed all his wounds. “Hermione?” He looked around, then smiled when he spotted her.

“Harry! Fitzburg’s…” Hermione trailed off when she spotted the Watcher Wizard, held by the leather-clad witch, limbs dangling, twitching… she was …

“Conflagratio!” Harry was faster than her, and his spell flew at the vampire. She screamed when fire engulfed her, throwing Fitzburg away, but she managed to extinguish the flames with her wand too quickly to burn herself.

“Conflagratio! Incendio!” Hermione started to cast as fast as she could. They had to keep the vampire off-balance, reacting and dodging instead of casting.

“Incendio! Confringo!” Harry wasn’t letting up either.

The vampire was too fast though, too agile. She was almost dancing around their spells, laughing now even! And casting at them! Hermione barely managed to dodge a piercing curse, rolling behind a grave marker, then cast a shield herself - just in time to absorb the blast from said marker exploding. She rolled a few meters, hitting her thigh in a fragment of a gravestone and her shoulder on a broken stump of another, but forced herself to get up again.

Harry was still casting, and standing despite his shield getting hit by the vampire’s spell. Blood was running down his face - he had been hit again! Hermione sent a few minor curses at the vampire - of course it was a vampire, anyone else would have frozen to death wearing so little, and Death Eater witches would wear robes, warming charm or no warming charm - in the hope of forcing the vampire to dodge. It did not work, the vampire let the spells hit her shield, laughing - she must have seen through the ruse. Hermione let loose another series of hexes, but this time she cast the strongest piercing curse she could manage at the end.

Once again the vampire let the spells hit the shield and it was shattered by her piercing curse. Harry was quick to take advantage of that, hitting their enemy with a bone-breaker and a piercing curse that sent her reeling. Hermione followed with an Incendio and a Conflagratio, but both were stopped by a shield - that vampire witch was just too fast. And she’d regenerate and recover quickly! For a moment Hermione despaired, then she fought the emotion down. They would destroy the demon, save Fitzburg, and she would save Harry!

She cast another series of hexes, and this time the vampire dodged rather than shielding. Hermione smiled, then realized with a sinking feeling that the vampire was far, far faster than before - too fast for either her or Harry. The monster had been toying with them! A spell flew at her, and she turned to dive away right when the ground exploded again, throwing her through the air and into a gravestone.

*****​

Albus was waiting at the elevator, disillusioned, next to the stairs. once he saw the door on the other side of the hall was open, he flicked his wand and hit the elevator’s button from outside. Two Death Eaters appeared.

“He’s in the elevator!”

“No, that’s what he wants you to think! He’s waiting for us in ambush!”

Albus smiled. They were learning. But they were still too predictable. Wordlessly, he cast a Confundus Charm at one of them, and a Disillusion Charm at another before retreating upstairs. He still heard someone exclaim “He’s there!”, followed by a revealing charm, and Killing Curses. One, maybe more, down. He stopped after a few stairs, already breathing heavily, and pulled out his shrunk broom to fly the rest of the way up to the atrium.

The elevator was ascending according to the indicator at the door there. Smiling faintly, Albus blew the doors open, then cut the cable and sent a Banishing Charm at the already falling cab. He could hear screaming before the cab hit the ground with such force, the dust it sent up almost reached Albus. He fell back to the statue in the centre of the atrium. Tom would be long now.

And there he was. The Dark Lord floated out of the elevator shaft in an impressive display of broomless flight, followed by another Death Eater on a broom, and two more flying out from the stairs - the traps he had set there had not stopped those two, alas.

“Hello Tom. And Lucius, Antonin and Augustus I presume.” Only one, the one right at Tom’s side, showed a reaction. That would be Lucius then.

“Dumbledore. You’ve led us through a merry chase, but it ends now.” Tom declared. Predictable. None of them seemed to have noticed his trap. Not surprisingly - none of them were alchemists, or Potion Masters of Severus’s level. And none of them used to Tom’s grandstanding and love of drama, would question why Albus suddenly was talking instead of casting.

“I beg to differ, Tom.” Albus smiled, though it was not the gentle smile most knew. It was the smile of the wizard who beaten Grindelwald, the smile of the wizard who had planned and plotted and researched with the greatest Dark Lord Magical Europe had seen to date.

Albus didn’t move his wand - it was already pointing at a spot to the side, which by now the invisible gas he had created would have reached - nor did he say a word. He simply willed the alchemical transfiguration to happen, and it did. The entire area the four dark wizards were standing or floating vanished in a giant fireball while Albus quickly cast a bubblehead charm and dove into the fountain before the flames reached him.

*****​

India Cohen woke up in pain. She was bleeding from half a dozen gashes, more splinters were stuck in her limbs and body, and her head was ringing from what felt like a concussion. But she was alive, and she could move. And… Kit! She was up in an instant, crouching with dagger and stake ready. Kit was on the ground, bleeding, but alive. A quick check showed his heart was beating regularly. But he needed help, healing… where were…

The ground shook from another explosion, and India spotted the Granger witch on the ground, out, and her lover, Potter, casting desperately at the vampire that had attacked them. Had hurt them, had hurt Kit!

India charged straight at the demon, sheathing the dagger and drawing a few throwing spikes. Potter got hit and went down, leg broken it seemed. He was still moving, still fighting though. India sent throwing spikes at the demon, only to see them get deflected by the magical shield surrounding the monster. India was about to pounce when the vampire whipped its wand around and pointed it at her. The Slayer dove to the side, a green curse flying harmlessly past her, and then charged ahead again, but the vampire was already moving, as fast as a Master, evading her lunge. India kicked out, but her leg was stopped by the shield as well, even if it drove the demon back and spoiled its aim so a gravestone exploded, and not India.

The Slayer hammered at the shield, trying to break through with sheer willpower and strength, and she though the shield was weakening, but before she could press the attack the vampire cast again, and she had to drop into a split to dodge, and still got clipped on her shoulder. She ignored the pain, as she had trained to, and whipped out her cross. That drove the vampire back, hissing, and India rammed the cross into the shield, hoping it would break through.

It didn’t work though, and the vampire jumped back, then ran to the side, trying to gain distance to curse her. Its plans were foiled by a couple of spells flying at the monster, blowing up the ground in front of it and shattering its shield. India jumped and ran at her, sending her last throwing spikes at the demon, and saw them sink into her flesh, smoke rising from where the blessed silver touched the undead flesh. It didn’t slow the vampire down that much though, and before India reached her she had her wand up and cast a shield again.

Slamming into the shield at full speed felt like slamming into a wall. A wall that was moved back, and down, but a wall nonetheless. India was dazed for a moment, and barely recovered in time to jump over the vampire and evade another killing curse. She kicked out, pushing herself away and the vampire down, but the shield held. What was Potter doing?

A quick glance caught him casting at Granger, and India snarled. She needed help right now, or they were dead - all of them! The Slayer kicked dust and debris at the vampire, more out of reflex than in any hope of the monster covering its eyes in response. It didn’t, trusting its shield. Another kick drove it a meter back - and probably caused some hairline fractures in her foot. She could deal with that. Her boots were reinforced, and tied tight.

“Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!”

“Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem! Finite Incantatem!”

Suddenly spells were flying thick around them. For a moment India was afraid the two were simply casting without regard for herself, then she realized those were spells to cancel spells. Like a shield spell.

The demon realized it too, judging by its curses. India smiled. Three on one, and one of the three was a Slayer. The fight was as good as over. The vampire was fast, and skilled, and powerful. But not fast enough to dodge the spells, not with India wailing on her, pushing her around, hampering her movements and foiling her aim whenever she tried to cast at Potter and Granger.

The monster switched tactics, cursing at India now, frantically. But its Killing Curses were too slow to hit a Slayer that had smelled blood. It switched to quick curses, faster but weaker. A few hit India, leaving her bruised and bleeding - but not beaten, not even close.

The vampire switched tactics again, dropping its shield, and lunging for her. It was a desperate gamble, hoping it could beat India in melee. The Slayer caught her wand arm, holding it away. She received a punch that sent her head ringing again in response, definitely a concussion, but that was not enough either. The vampire witch might be an experienced witch and master vampire, but India was the Slayer - and experienced too. She had been chosen to hunt and kill monsters like this demon.

A kick shattered the monster’s kneecap, then India’s knee rammed into its stomach, folding it over. A twist of her wrist disarmed the demon, and then he stake found its heart. It was staring at India, probably trying to say something, but disintegrated into dust before it managed to get a word out.

*****​

“Hurry up!” Ron called from the door that had appeared on top of the tower. “An auror could appear any time!”

“Don’t rush us, Ronnikins. We’ll have to modify one of our fireworks to look like a broom rider making his escape. That’s not a simple jinx.”

“It won’t be a simple detention if you get caught either!”

“Yes, yes. We knew the risks when we agreed to do it.”

“Mum will not be pleased either if you get caught.”

That at least shut them up. After another minute that felt like an hour to Ron, his elder brothers at last finished, and joined him in the Room of Requirement. “All done, little brother. As soon as anyone reaches the top, the firework goes off, and they’ll think Dumbledore has left the castle.”

“Good. They’ll leave, and Dumbledore can do whatever he came to do here, without having to worry about getting attacked.” Ron smiled. They had done good here - fooling most of the British Auror Corps was an achievement not many could boast of. He was smiling broadly when he returned to the Gryffindor dorm. He was not with his two best friends, but he was still doing his part to help them.

*****​

Albus was about to get up and out of the water which was now far hotter than before, with probably half of it evaporated by the effects of his alchemical surprise when the entire fountain shattered and blew up. The old wizard was thrown in the air, and only a hastily cast cushioning charm prevented further injuries. Even so he had felt a few ribs breaking, and he was bleeding from several wounds. His left leg seemed to be broken too. He numbed his ribs and transfigured his left trouser leg into a cast.

“Dumbledore!” Tom’s voice came out of the smoke that filled the atrium. It was full of hatred and anger. Albus grit his teeth - Tom had survived one of his best shots, and had hurt him badly in return. He conjured stone slabs to absorb the unforgivables while the dust and smoke started to settle. The atrium was in ruins, the fire had filled it, and then rushed into the other areas accessible from here, setting the alight. The charms keeping the air fresh would be straining, and probably failing soon.

Tom walked out of the smoke, his robes tattered and splattered with green blood, but otherwise not looking hurt - or not inconvenienced by what wounds he might have taken. Three charred corpses showed that his followers had not fared as well though. “Impressive work on your body, Tom,” he stated.

Tom didn’t answer but jumped to the side, sending a Killing Curse at Albus. He no doubt expected another trap should he stop to talk. Like Gellert, Albus thought. And yet, so unlike Gellert. The old wizard was not able to dodge, but his stone slab swallowed the Killing Curse, and his shield dealt with the resulting explosion. Tom wouldn’t try the same thing twice.

Neither would Albus, and he had a greater repertoire of spells left than Tom - but most of them Tom would be familiar with, and knew how to counter. Most, but not all. Gellert and Albus had created spells neither had shared with anyone, after all. But to use them… Albus smiled. What better time to use those than when duelling the greatest Dark Lord Britain had seen in centuries?

The remains of the shattered statues started to flow and change, forming serpentine shapes. Tom had opted for the indirect attack then, too - or wanted him to think so. Albus cast a wind spell, just in case Tom had poisoned what air was left - his Bubblehead Charm would not help against poison that worked through skin contact - and then pointed his wand at the serpents reaching for him. “Gravitas.” At once the serpents fell down, pressed into the marble floor as if a great invisible weight had been dropped on them. Soon they shattered. Another flick hid Albus in a dark cloud that started to spread out, dark lightning crackling through it. Where it touched the walls and floor, spells and charms started failing. Albus was curious how Tom’s body would react to its magic getting syphoned off.

He would not find out - Tom cast a truly impressive whirlwind spell that broke his cloud up. Albus canceled the spell before the absorbed magic was released in an explosion. He didn’t want to destroy the Ministry, after all. Then he had to duck and shield himself while stone spears dripping with acid shot at him from all sides. His shield held, but the impacts threw him around. Then the stone floor rose up as if it was a big wave, about to crash down on him. Tom must have been inspired by natural disasters.

Albus froze the wave before it reached him, then turned it into so fine parts it looked like sand. Another spell mixed the stone sand with water and shot it out in thin, but high-pressure streams that cut through stone almost as easily as through flesh.

Tom shielded himself with thick marble walls, then cast a few Bombarda Maximas to break up the streams. The resulting explosions threw both wizards around. Albus felt another rib break, making breathing even more difficult. He was close to exhausted now - unlike Tom, his body was not a magical construct, or improved with dark rituals. If he wanted to prevail he’d have to resort to some of the more questionable spells he and Gellert had created.

“Abundo!” The air started to feel heavier, darker even - what light the fires burning in the other rooms had created started to dim. And the darkness started to gather around Tom, who was looking around, first in confusion, then in something akin to wonder and fear.

“Dumbledore… what have you done?”

Tom shot a Killing Curse at Albus, followed by a Torture Curse. Another Killing Curse, and another, and another. Albus managed to conjure enough stone slabs to shield himself, but it was getting more and more difficult - though Tom wasn’t really aiming anymore, he was just casting as fast as possible, probably having realized what was happening, and trying to counter it. He wouldn’t be able to.

“Dumbledore!” Judging by the hatred in his voice, he had realized that too. “Curse you! You hypocrite!” Then Albus felt the anti-apparition jinx on the Ministry break, and before he could cast one himself, Tom disappeared with a crack.

He cancelled his spell, and the room grew lighter again. Sighing, Albus looked around, noticing a few aurors staring at him. That explained the canceled anti-apparition jinxes. “Saved by aurors, how ironic, Tom.” None of them even tried to say anything, much less arrest him while Albus checked on the two Death Eaters he had left broken and stunned in the atrium. Neither had survived the fight between him and Tom.

“There should be a surviving Death Eater or two in the Department of Mysteries. See to it that they are arrested and interrogated, will you?” One of the aurors started to nod, then checked himself. Smiling, gently this time, Albus apparated away.


Chapter 16: Aftermath

 

Chapter 16: Aftermath

Hermione stared at the spot where the vampire witch had died - had been destroyed - for a second or two, before she turned and started to look for the grimoire they had come for. Every step she took hurt. The young witch was sure some of her ribs, and probably her shoulder was broken from her impact on that gravestone, and a numbing spell could only do that much about the pain. But she needed that book. Harry needed the spell that she was sure was written down in it. With each moment she didn’t saw it she felt more and more anxious. If the tome’s protections had failed, if it had been destroyed in the battle… finally she discovered it behind a broken tombstone, half-buried by rubble. She summoned it with her wand, then cried when the thick, heavy book slammed into her chest after she failed to catch it with one hand. “Ah!”

Hissing in pain she sank to her knees, suffering until she managed to numb her shoulder once more with the grimoire jammed under her good arm.

“Hermione!” Harry was headed towards her. He didn’t look any better - he looked worse, actually, bruised and bleeding all over, his clothes ripped in multiple places - but he moved more quickly than herself.

He was probably used to such wounds from Quidditch, she thought, and snorted, then winced again when more pain shot through her. She definitely had some broken ribs. She tried to wave Harry off anyway. “I am Ok. Check on Fitzburg. He needs help.”

The way Harry’s expression changed told her all she needed to know. She closed her eyes, feeling ashamed that she had been focusing on recovering the grimoire, instead of helping the Watcher.

“He’s dead.” Harry had reached her, and was running his wand over her. “And you need help.”

“So do you.” Hermione responded. “Don’t say you are fine!” she spat out before he could say it. She was grateful for his help in standing up though. “What about Kit?” She closed her eyes, trying to find her balance.

“India has gone for him.” Harry answered. “There she is, with him.”

Hermione glanced over and saw Botwell getting carried by India. Unconscious, but the Slayer didn’t look distressed or in panic, so her Watcher was probably fine. Sort of. She turned back to where Fitzburg was lying on the ground. “We’ll have to … ngh … make sure he doesn’t get turned.” That was a Watcher’s worst nightmare: To return as a vampire, and attack one’s family and friends.

Harry nodded and steadied her as they made their way over to the body. The wizard’s throat was torn out, his eyes were open, sightless, his limbs were twisted and bent like those of a broken puppet, and there was so much blood around... Hermione tried to cast a diagnostic spell anyway, but fumbled around with the grimoire under her wand arm hindering her. The grimoire she had gone for, instead of the dead young man at her feet. Harry didn’t say anything and let her cast no matter how awkward she must have looked. The spell only told her what she had already known: Fitzburg was dead, bled out, with multiple broken bones and internal injuries.

It was Harry who transfigured the body into a small box though - like a miniature coffin - and stashed it in a pocket of his jacket that had not been ripped open during the fight. “Wilkinson was at the ferry.”

“He must have heard the explosions.” And there was only one reason why he wouldn’t have come to help them. Hermione didn’t want to say it though.

“He must be dead.” India cut in, carrying her watcher bridal style. Under different circumstances it would have been a funny sight. Now Hermione simply felt exhausted, sad, and both happy and guilty that Harry had survived. And herself.

Harry nodded, and ran a diagnostic spell on Botwell. “Concussion, some bruises, cracked ribs. He’ll be fine.”

India nodded and smiled down at the unconscious Watcher held in her arms, then planted a kiss on his forehead. At least those two had survived as well, Hermione thought, then felt guilty again since she didn’t even know if Fitzburg had had a girlfriend. Or a family.

They reached the ferry and found Wilkinson’s body on it. India gently laid Botwell down on a bench, then checked on the dead Watcher while Harry checked the ferry’s state. “The vampire must have surprised him. He probably was killed before he even noticed her, then she drank his blood,” the Slayer stated.

It was a small consolation, the sort of people get told in war movies. But Hermione, sitting down on a bench herself, still clutching the grimoire while the ferry started on the trip back to Britain, would take what consolation she could get after this battle.

*****​

Tonks shook her head, standing up from where she had knelt next to another Death Eater on the ground. “This one’s dead too. Shattered skull, what brains the guy had must have been shredded from the splinters.” Not that he would have lived long with his chest smashed like this.

Brakborst, the senior auror in charge of this area, turned towards her. “Do you recognize him?” He didn’t sound as if he had expected anything else.

Neither had Tonks. Not after what she had seen in the atrium. She still couldn’t really believe it. Of course, she, and everyone else, had called Dumbledore the most powerful wizard in Britain for all their lives, but they hadn’t really believed it. Now though, after having seen him fighting, for real, and seeing the remains of his work… she shivered as she crouched down again and pulled the mask away from the head of the corpse. “Ugh. he’s got a smashed face too. I am not sure even his mother could recognize him now.”

Brakborst snorted. “I think a number of families would be only too glad if the bodies here would never get identified. Too embarrassing to have a family member who was killed as a Death Eater.”

“Not as embarrassing as finding out that the Dark Lord is back, after claiming it’s all a lie for months.” Tonks stood up again, almost losing her balance. She managed to avoid stumbling, or even falling down. Her metamorphmagus talent was both a blessing and a curse. “So… that’s one living Death Eater, so far?”

“Yes. His limbs were crushed, but he’s otherwise well. I do not think we’ll find any more alive.” Brakborst looked to the sealed door leading to the Hall of Prophecies. “It doesn’t look like they managed to get through the door, and we’ve cleared the rest of the rooms.”

The rooms the Unspeakables let them check, that was. Tonks briefly imagined the Unspeakables hiding another survivor, to use him for their experiments, then dismissed the thought as the kind of stories new aurors were told to haze them. Then she grinned at the idea. That would make an excellent story, actually, to feed to the first junior auror she’d get to train. Once she wasn’t a junior auror anymore. Her grin faded again.

She returned to the atrium, to report to Madam Bones. The head of the DMLE was standing next to the Minister for Magic, Cornelius Fudge, and looking livid. Tonks pasted her best “mere peon, don’t mind me” expression on her face and stepped close enough to listen in - purely so she’d be able to report to Bones as soon as she could so without interrupting the witch’s talk with the Minister, of course! And what a talk it was!

“Are you out of your mind, Cornelius? Are you honestly claiming that Dumbledore staged all of this, to make you believe that the Dark Lord has returned? That he put a dozen men under the Imperius so he could dress them up as Death Eaters and then murder them? And that he found a ringer for the Dark Lord, powerful enough to do all this…” she waved to the destroyed atrium, parts of it still smoking.

“Well… yes?” Fudge was cringing under the woman’s glare, but he didn’t give in. “We now know how powerful he is. Powerful enough to do all of this.”

“And why would he do this?” Tonks’s boss looked like she really wanted to hex Fudge into a puddle and pour him down a toilet.

“To convince us of his lies, of course! So he can become Minister for Magic!” Fudge raised his chin in a show of defiance.

“You are a delusional fool, Cornelius! If Dumbledore is powerful enough to do all this, why would he even bother with such a ruse? If he is willing to murder a dozen ‘fine, upstanding citizens’ to fool you, why are you still alive? Why wouldn’t he have simply killed you during the summer, and blamed it on the Dark Lord? If this evening has shown us one thing, then that neither your security detail nor my rapid reaction teams could have stopped him. No, this is not something Dumbledore staged. The Unspeakables told us so as well.” Bones sneered at the Minister.

“Lucius said...”

“Malfoy’s corpse lies over there, wearing Death Eater robes!” Bones pointed at a body covered with a conjured sheet in a corner. “Together with Antonin Dolohov and Augustus Rookwood, two Death Eaters who escaped from Azkaban. Are you claiming that Dumbledore freed them, just to convince you that the Dark Lord is back? What is next, you claiming Dumbledore is the Dark Lord?”

Fudge shook his head and seemed to collapse in himself. “No…” He looked so pathetic, Tonks would have felt pity for him, if she didn’t know what damage his foolish and corrupt policies had done to Wizarding Britain. As it was she could barely keep from grinning widely and openly mocking him.

“Do you honestly think your claims will be believed anymore? Do you think that the parasites at the Prophet will dare besmirching Dumbledore any longer, now that he drove the Dark Lord away and killed a dozen Death Eaters, all by himself?” Bones scoffed.

“No…”

“You’re finished, Cornelius. If you want to keep a shred of dignity, you’ll resign as soon as possible, and let someone else clean this mess up.” With that dismissal, the head of the DMLE turned her attention on Tonks, who straightened at once.

“Madam, we found one Death Eater alive, Thadesius Nott. He has been arrested and transferred under guard to St. Mungo’s. All the others are dead. Identifying all of them will take a while though.” Especially the one whose hand sticking out of the floor was the only thing visible part left.

“Good. Double the guard for Nott and make sure four aurors are with him at all times. We need him alive for questioning, and I assume there will be a few more moles we haven’t found yet.” Bones nodded at Tonks and turned away, towards a figure dressed in the hooded robes of an Unspeakable. The young auror had no intention to listen in to that conversation, no matter how tempting it was, and left to transmit the orders. She didn’t think she’d get any sleep tonight, but she didn’t mind.

As she stepped towards the floo she wondered if the Death Eater witch who had hurt her in Diagon Alley so badly months ago was among the dead.

*****​

Quentin Travers was listening to the report from Watcher Botwell, the Slayer, Hermione and Mister Potter without letting his reaction show on his face. The four survivors of the expedition to Azkaban had been treated with potions and spells, though the Council’s resources in that area were still far short of those offered at a magical clinic such as St. Mungo’s. Losing two of the rare wizards the Council had at its disposal wouldn’t help with that, he knew. There was no point in making that known to the four battered and bruised young people in front of him though. Besides, not even Dumbledore, who was sitting next to the four, had been able to do that much about their wounds.

He nodded when Mister Potter finished describing how they had taken the ferry back to the mainland, and how the Headmaster had caught up with them when they had made landfall. “We were, sadly, in no shape to use the brooms from Wilkinson and Fitzburg, or we would have returned more quickly.”

Quentin’s grandniece mumbled something he did not catch. “Yes, Hermione?”

Startled, the girl looked at him. “I just told myself to refresh my broom flying skills.” From the way Mister Potter snorted and Dumbledore faintly smiled, and judging by what Quentin knew about his grandniece’s grades, she might need a bit more than a refresher course in that area. He didn’t comment on it though, and merely nodded.

He felt like sighing, but suppressed it. After surviving such a brutal fight against one of the worst enemies there was, a turned witch, anything that sounded like disappointment from him would damage their morale. Besides, it was Botwell’s job to debrief his Slayer, and Quentin’s to debrief Botwell - in private.

So he nodded instead of sighing. “While the loss of Wilkinson and Fitzburg is tragic, you did achieve your objective, and you defeated a truly monstrous enemy. I do not think there was much you could have done differently. Wilkinson couldn’t be saved no matter what you did, and you could have easily lost more than just Fitzburg, given what attacked you.” He met everyone’s eyes before continuing. “Both of them will be remembered, but we have to look forward now.”

“Indeed.” Dumbledore spoke up. Quentin had been surprised the old wizard had remained silent so far. Either he was very polite or exhausted from his fight, or both. He was addressing the four others. “I am truly sorry that I left you there, I would never have done so had I known you would be in danger.”

“But if you had not done so, Voldemort would not have been exposed in the Department of Mysteries and wouldn’t have lost a dozen of his most trusted followers. As it is, the Ministry might finally drop the charges against you and Sirius and Remus, and help against Voldemort, who is severely weakened.” Hermione pointed out.

Once again Quentin felt she was truly a chip of the old block, seeing the big picture. He could see her leading the Council, one day. If she survived that long. He smiled at his grandniece. “That is correct. Overall, our chances to finally destroy Voldemort for good have been greatly increased today. Now, please, rest and recover.” He looked at Hermione and added: “I know you want to start researching the spell you sought at once, but it will do you no good to do so while you are exhausted and hurting. We cannot afford mistakes there.”

Whatever Hermione had been about to say in protest was swallowed when Mister Potter grabbed and gently squeezed Hermione’s hand. Quentin faintly grinned at that, and exchanged an amused glance with Dumbledore. “That goes for all of you. Go to bed, and sleep in tomorrow.”

Once the four young people had filed out of his office, Quentin turned to Dumbledore. “How do you suppose the Ministry will react to what has happened?”

“I will have to check with a few sources of mine, but I expect a drastic change of policy.” The old wizard smiled cynically. “It doesn’t even matter if they truly believe that Voldemort has returned. With Lucius Malfoy dead and the Dark Lord fled, the Ministry is very unlikely to oppose me now.”

Quentin nodded. While he was no expert on Wizarding Britain’s politics, it fit with what he knew. “A fortunate outcome. What do you think the Dark Lord will do?”

“That is hard to say. I will once have to wait for information from my sources. He will have to recover from our battle, but apart from that?” Dumbledore spread his hands. “He has been acting a bit erratically for years, even before his first defeat. He might go into hiding, or lash out in an attempt to rebuild his damaged reputation as the most feared wizard in Britain.”

“Will he be attempting to fight you again then?”

“That would be the ideal outcome, as far as I am considered. But I fear he might pick another target to sow terror in the hearts of Wizarding Britain once more.”

Quentin nodded. “I see. We can only hope we’ll be ready to end his immortality soon then.”

“I would help your grandniece, but I am needed elsewhere for now. I trust Hermione will succeed without my help though. She’s the brightest witch of her generation, and since Harry needs her to, she will succeed.” Dumbledore smiled, but didn’t hide that he too was tired, maybe exhausted even, as he got up.

Quentin didn’t mind that. The old wizard would likely have to prepare his Order to counter Voldemort’s expected reaction. If the Dark Lord was targeting wizards and not normal humans, then the Council could let Dumbledore and his order deal with such attacks, until they were ready to destroy the Dark Lord for good.

*****​

At Hogwarts, the rumors of a Battle in the Ministry spread like wildfire during breakfast. Even more so when the expected Daily Prophets did not arrive - either the newspaper was delayed so it could report on what had happened last night, or the Ministry had confiscated it, to avoid such reporting. Either way, most students took it as confirmation of the rumors. Especially since most of those rumors had been started by the aurors relieving the night shift. Ron Weasley had started a few himself, after he had gotten an owl from Harry and Hermione. Their letter had told him what had happened.

“And in these troubling times, it is imperative that the school remains calm and orderly. Do not spread baseless rumors or otherwise try to frighten fellow students.” Albert Runcorn, who still hadn’t been able to enter the office of the Headmaster, was talking. No one was really listening, but that was not much of a consolation for Ron. The Gryffindor had thought he was helping Dumbledore in Hogwarts, but if the Headmaster had been fighting Voldemort in the Ministry last night, then he couldn’t have been in Hogwarts. Ron felt foolish, and he hated feeling foolish. Not even telling himself that he had kept the aurors from returning to the Ministry and hindering Dumbledore helped much. He had to do something!

“Anyone who spreads such rumors in an attempt to cause unrest will be punished most severely. We cannot afford to…”

“Shut up!” Ron’s sonorous-enhanced voice cut Runcorn off. The fake Headmaster looked shocked at the interruption.

“Shut up, you liar!” Ron climbed up on the table. “I know what happened. We all know what happened.” The students, who had been discussing and spreading rumors while Runcorn had talked, had fallen silent now. “Dumbledore has fought the Dark Lord in the Ministry. He has personally killed a dozen Death Eaters and drove Voldemort away.”

Most of the students and even some aurors loudly gasped when Ron said the Dark Lord’s name. He ignored it and went on. “Dumbledore has not just proven that he was right about the Dark Lord’s return, but also that he is more powerful than the Dark Lord. How much longer do you think Fudge will be in power? How much longer do you think you’ll be here, acting as if you were the Headmaster, trying to punish us for believing in him instead of your pathetic lies?”

Runcorn was gaping at that question and lost all color in his face. Around Ron, the other Gryffindor’s loudly voiced their agreement.

“You’re the liar! My father knows the truth!” Malfoy shouted from the Slytherin table.

Ron turned towards him. “Your father is dead. He was killed while he fought for Voldemort!”

The Slytherin looked shocked. “That’s a lie! You are lying!”

“Shut up, rapist, before we shut you up!” That shout had come from Lavender Brown, and was quickly taken up by the rest of the Gryffindor table. When it spread to the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws, McGonagall stepped in.

“Lessons are cancelled for today. Return to your common rooms. Anyone I catch trying to start a fight will regret it. The Headmaster wouldn’t want you to start a riot here.” It was clear what Headmaster she was speaking of, but even so the students seemed to be too riled up, too fed up with all the lies to calm down easily.

She was right though, Ron knew. So he bowed to the Deputy Headmistress and started to walk to the Gryffindor’ tower while Malfoy, crying and shaking his head, was dragged out by his auror bodyguard. That calmed the students down.

Ron had barely left the Great Hall though when he was hugged by a squealing Lavender. “That was so great! You showed them!”

“You showed them as well.” Ron answered, hefting her up in a hug, which turned in a kiss. He might have not helped Dumbledore much last night, but he was rather sure he had made up for that today.

And they had gotten the day off even!

*****​

In the Council’s library, Harry Potter started to get up, to go over to his girlfriend and tell her to take a break, but a glare from her and a tap on her watch stopped him, and he sat down again, grumbling about stubborn witches. Even after treatment with magical ointment, Hermione looked like she had served as a practise target for beaters with bludgers. Under her sweater and trousers too. He knew that since he had treated her. He grinned at the memory - he hadn’t expected her to agree when he had told her that she could treat him with that ointment only if he could treat her in return. But she had, and that had been one good thing to come of that bloody battle.

His grin died quickly though when he remembered that Hermione had to be in a lot of pain, even with the potion she had taken. He knew that from personal experience after Quidditch matches. And yet she would not rest some more, not even while Skele-Gro was working on the arm she had in a sling. She was so determined, she hadn’t agreed to his offer of him resting while she rested. The most he had managed to get her to agree to was to take regular breaks. Breaks she would take according to her schedule, and not a minute earlier.

Sighing, he pulled up a book on demons and their weak spots, and tried to study instead of watching his wounded, hurting girlfriend scribble down notes as if she was cramming for her exams. No, worse. As if she was studying for her O.W.L.s. Of course, Harry was in pain himself, but he was used to that. Years playing Quidditch with a madman like Wood in charge and against a team of thugs like Slytherin’s had seen to that. He knew better than to mention that to Hermione though.

She was nibbling on her lower lip. He knew she’d twist her hair with her left hand, if her arm was not currently in a sling. Merlin, she was pretty when she was all focused like this! She must have heard him sigh, since she suddenly looked up at scowled at him. She was probably thinking he was trying to distract her. He simply smiled at her, shaking his head slightly. Hermione looked puzzled for a moment, then blushed a bit, and went back to studying the grimoire of Myrken Flenswater.

*****​

“There you are, Severus. What did delay you?” The Dark Lord’s voice sounded curious, almost harmless - but there was a tension in the air. Severus Snape had expected that, after he had heard from Dumbledore what had happened.

The Dark Lord’s hideout had seen better days. Or rather, he had had better hideouts. This one Severus didn’t recognize, unfortunately - Dumbledore wanted the location of the Dark Lord. The room he had just entered couldn’t compare to the hall in Malfoy Manor. It was barely a quarter its size, and that was with expansion charms. And it was filled with broken furniture, ripped curtains, and rubble from blasted walls. All of it looked rather fresh. Severus fervently hoped that all this destruction had allowed the Dark Lord to calm down.

“I had to bide my time to escape unduly notice at Hogwarts, My Lord. The aurors and teachers were restless, after rumors of the events at the Ministry had reached the school.” He bowed deeply to the inhuman figure sitting on a conjured throne in the middle of the room. The Potions Master spotted the Dark Lord’s familiar, Nagini, slithering around in the room, over and through rubble and trash. He didn’t react, despite knowing just how dangerous that serpent was.

“Really? Do you think I am as foolish to believe a spy like you, who had fooled Dumbledore for so long, would be delayed by a few foolish teachers and bumbling aurors?” The Dark Lord’s voice was now dripping with contempt. “That is, if you actually had fooled Dumbledore at all.”

A shiver ran down Severus’s spine. “My Lord, I was and remain your loyal follower.” He bowed again, pressing his forehead into the dusty stone floor. He felt a serpentine body slide along and over his feet, and fought not to shake.

Nagini kept circling around him, clearly trying to unnerve him, while the Dark Lord spoke. “So you claim. But it was your information that Dumbledore would be absent that led me into his trap. Just like it was your information about the prophecy that led to my defeat at the hands of a child those years ago. Twice this prophecy has cost me a lot, and twice you were involved. Is that mere coincidence?”

Severus stiffened. In both cases he had not intended for the Dark Lord to walk into a trap, but would the wizard believe him? “I have only told you what I knew and believed to be true, my Lord.”

“So you claim.” The Dark Lord’s voice didn’t sound as if it came from a human throat. Alien. “Look at me, Severus, so I might test your loyalty.”

Severus briefly closed his eyes while cold sweat ran down his neck. Could he risk it? He was an expert occlumens. He might have a chance to fool the Dark Lord, but only if the dark wizard was taking care not to ruin the Potions Master’s mind. Severus had no illusions what would happen if the Dark Lord did not hold back.

The room was in ruins. No one else was present. The Dark Lord had suffered a terrible blow, to his pride, and to his organization. Would he be rational enough not to risk losing another capable follower, or would he be paranoid enough to consider that an acceptable price to pay to be secure from treason?

“Look at me, Severus.” The Dark Lord was impatient now. No, he was enjoying this.

The Potions Master slowly raised his head, his hand on his mouth, and met the Dark Lord’s eyes. When he felt as if red-hot iron spikes were driven through his head, he bit on the stone he had placed in his mouth, crushing it.

Severus Snape died seconds later from the poison the stone had contained.

*****​

Hermione Granger took a deep breath, and checked the preparations once more. If she made a mistake here, Harry would… She shook her head. She would not make a mistake. Everything was where it should be. The runic circle on the floor, the candles at the edges, the bowl with ashes of a phoenix, the globe containing the last breath of a Kneazle, and the herbs from the Mist Enclave in the Everglades. She ran a soft cloth dripping with holy water along the blade of the sacrificial dagger on the table. Everything was ready for the ritual to restore Voldemort’s soul. To render him mortal again. To rip that foul soul shard out of Harry’s scar.

The young witch glanced at Harry, who was sitting in the middle of the runic circle, clad only in a thin, hand-crafted robe. He smiled at her, but she saw he was tense. Nervous, and with good cause. He was trusting her with his life, his very soul. And Hermione wasn’t sure she deserved this kind of trust. She was just a know-it-all, a bookworm. If she deserved his trust, wouldn’t she have saved Fitzburg in Azkaban? Wouldn’t she have been able to defeat that Vampire witch?

“Hermione,” Harry’s voice interrupted her before she could work herself into a frenzy, “I trust you.” And, seeing him smile at her, she realized he did.

Taking another deep breath, she checked her watch. It was time. She closed her eyes, then dropped her outer robe to the floor. Wearing only a thin, short robe just like Harry’s, but with inverted symbols and colors, she lit the candles, carefully, without magic. Once all were burning, she lit the incense in the small bowls surrounding the circle, then sat down in front of Harry. Murmuring the first part of the ritual spell, she set the bowl with the phoenix ashes down between her and Harry, then placed the globe and herbs in it. When she finished the first part of the spell, the bowl’s content ignited. As it should according to her notes.

Breathing deeply, smelling the incense, she took the dagger and opened a cut on the palm of her left hand. Blood dripped down from it, into the bowl filled with fire. She started on the second part of the spell, murmuring syllables of a language man had forgotten long ago. When she finished, the bowl went out again, and all that was left inside was a thick liquid - her blood, mingled with the essence of the ingredients for the ritual.

She started the third part of the spell as she dipped her finger into the bowl, her voice never wavering as she covered Harry’s scar with it. She was utterly calm now. As her voice rose, the last parts of the spell spoken, she took up the dagger again, placed its tip against the top end of Harry’s scar, then slowly pushed it in and ran it down the length of the scar. Blood, darker than natural, welled up from the cut and met the blood she had spread on the scar with a sizzling noise.

Harry hissed, but didn’t flinch. Not until she withdrew the blade, and finished the spell. Then he screamed, and threw his head back while a whirlwind suddenly surrounded the circle, extinguishing the candles at once. Only the glowing runes of the circle provided light now. Black blood shot out of the boy’s scar, disappearing before it reached the floor. Hermione heard another scream, inhuman and louder than Harry’s, and dark, twisted smoke rose from her boyfriend’s scar, drawing the black blood with it, upwards, away from Harry, away from her. It vanished before it reached the ceiling, and Harry toppled over, unconscious.

*****​

The Dark Lord Voldemort was shaking, panting. For an hour he had suffered, felt as if his soul was being torn apart. But now it was over. He had survived. Whoever had attacked him with such a dark ritual had failed!

He wondered who was behind this cowardly attack. It had to be Dumbledore. He was the only one who had the power and knowledge to strike from afar at him. The old wizard must have been hurt worse than Voldemort had thought in their duel, if he had to stoop so low. First that dark spell during their duel, and now this dark ritual.

But Voldemort had prevailed! And he felt better than ever, even more powerful than before!

Standing up, cleaning and smoothing his robes with wandless magic, the Dark Lord started to pace. Dumbledore would know he had failed. Even with his new power, the Dark Lord might not survive another attempt. There was no choice - he had to deal with Dumbledore before his enemy could try again.

Dumbledore would be weakened though, such rituals had a price, and would not be eager to face the Dark Lord until he had recovered. Voldemort would need to draw him out, to force him to meet him while he was still weak. But how… Suddenly, the Dark Lord knew the solution. There was only one thing the old wizard would give his life for.

Striding out of the room, The Dark Lord bellowed for his followers - the remaining Death Eaters, the werewolves, the vampires, the demons and the dementors.

He had a school to conquer.


Chapter 17: Invasion

 

Chapter 17: Invasion

When Harry Potter woke up he experienced the familiar slightly blurred view of the world without his glasses. His arm reached out to their customary spot next to his bed but he found nothing there. Not even the sideboard. What? Then he remembered the ritual. The scar bleeding, the inhuman scream, and his own collapse. Looking around he realized that he had to be in some sort of infirmary. He was not wearing his wrist wand holster either. What had happened?

“He’s awake, Mister Dumbledore.”

That was Mister Travers’s voice!

“So he is. Hello Harry.” The Headmaster’s voice sounded as kind as usual, if a bit wearier.

“Headmaster?” Harry squinted at him. A second later his glasses floated before his face. He put them on with some relief, then looked around for his wand.

“Your wand is with Miss Granger. We wanted to be sure you’re not suffering from any lingering effect that might unduly influence you.” The Headmaster explained.

“Hermione? Where is she? Is she OK?” Harry knew his girlfriend was very unlikely to stay away from his side when he was hurt, unless something had happened.

“She is resting. The ritual exhausted her, but she’s otherwise well.” The old wizard smiled reassuringly.

Behind him Mister Travers appeared. “She wanted to stay at your side, but I managed to convince her that she’d wake up before you’d do, and that you’d want her to rest in a bed, not on a chair.” He faintly smiled, but made it clear that Harry would better agree with that stance.

The young wizard nodded. Hermione had a tendency to not think of herself when it came to helping her friends. He knew that better than anyone else. “Thank you, Sir.”

“Think nothing of it, Mister Potter. I know my family’s foibles.”

Harry nodded, then reached up to touch his scar. He could not feel any difference. Dumbledore waved his wand, and a mirror appeared in front of him. His scar had scabbed over, but the skin around it was still red, if not quite as much as before.

“It’s gone, Harry. The ritual worked.”

Harry stared at the mirror, then at the Headmaster, who nodded gravely. He still couldn’t truly believe it.

Then Mister Travers nodded as well. “We’ve ran several tests. The soul fragment in your scar is gone.”

Harry believed it, then - he had no doubt that Mister Travers, for all that he was Hermione’s great-uncle, would not lie to him should he still represent a danger, or be an unwilling tool of Voldemort.

“Good.” He closed his eyes for a moment, simply enjoying the knowledge that he’d not have to die so Voldemort could be killed. Not anymore. And all thanks to Hermione.

*****​

Ron Weasley was sitting in the Great Hall enjoying the evening meal. Things had changed at Hogwarts. Oh, Runcorn was still nominally the Headmaster, but he hadn’t been seen outside his fake Headmaster’s office for days. Fudge had stepped down, and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, Ephraim Doge, was the acting Minister for Magic. Just until the Wizengamot came around to reinstate Dumbledore as Chief Warlock and elect a new Minister, of course.

So, not much had officially changed at Hogwarts, but everyone acted as if the Headmaster was already back, just on a vacation. McGonagall ran the school, and the aurors tried to stay out of her way as much as possible. Even better, the Slytherins kept their heads down and tried to be invisible! But the best news was that Snape was gone! The git had shown his true colors and had fled after Voldemort’s defeat in the Ministry!

Speaking of… “Has anyone seen Malfoy today?” Ron asked at the corner of the Gryffindor table that had been taken over by his family and friends. “He wasn’t in DADA nor Potions.” Not that Potions was currently anything more but self-study. Without Hermione around to make anyone actually study.

Fred shook his head. “No. He’s still eating in the dungeons, with his bodyguard.”

“And the elves are still refusing to let us ‘check’ his food.” George added. “We’re working on them though. Sooner or later they’ll see things our way.”

“No one likes a rapist.” Lavender stated, her grim tone rather uncharacteristic for the usually perky witch. But after Snape’s escape and the search of his quarters by aurors, rumors had cropped up that he had been covering up far more than just bullying. Ron believed it wholeheartedly - the man had been too foul and cruel to anyone not wearing a green badge.

“They haven’t found any hints of memory charms cast on students.” Neville cut in. Poor guy tried to assume the best of everyone.

“Of course they haven’t found anything! Snape was good enough to fool the Headmaster, no auror will find traces of his spells!” Ginny was a vehement believer in the ‘obliviation conspiracy’. His sister hadn’t forgotten what Malfoy and that cursed diary had done to her in her first year.

“Ginny’s right. Snape will have erased all the proof of his or Malfoy’s crimes.” Ron stated, cutting up another sausage on his plate.

“That means the aurors can’t do anything.” Lavender stared at the Slytherin table, as if she was looking for Malfoy there.

“They cannot do anything, but we can.” Fred’s grin showed more teeth than a manticore. “He can’t hide forever in the dungeons, and his bodyguard is just one wizard.”

Everyone at their table nodded, even Neville.

*****​

Hermione looked cute when she was asleep. Cuter, Harry amended. She was wrapped up in the duvet and clutched a pillow to her chest. Like… for a moment Harry was jealous of that pillow. Then he smiled and gently brushed a lock of hair that was hanging into her face back behind her ear. Her nose twitched in response, and he chuckled at the sight.

He must have been a bit too loud, since the witch opened her eyes soon afterwards. “Harry?”

“Yes.”

She lunged up and hugged him, hard. Surprised, he lost his balance and started to fall down on her. He barely managed to stop his descent with his arms.

“It worked. The soul shard’s gone from my scar,” he whispered in her ear while she slowly relaxed her death grip on him. “Thanks to you.”

Hermione sank back on the bed until she was staring straight into his eyes, her hands resting on his shoulders. “When you collapsed… they told me you were well, but you looked so…”

“I am fi… OK now.” Harry teased, then grinned at her when she scowled briefly. Then he dipped his head down and kissed her.

A bit later they were sitting on her bed, arms around each other. “What’s been happening while I had to rest?” Hermione was asking, frowning, no doubt, at the memory.

“I don’t actually know much. After I got up, I went to see you.” Harry was sure that if anything important had happened, they would have been told. There was the prophecy to consider, after all, so he’d be needed to finish Voldemort off. And Hermione wouldn’t be kept from helping him.

“So, Dumbledore hasn’t accepted his old offices back yet?” Hermione asked.

Harry shook his head. “I haven’t heard anything about that. I don’t know why he hasn’t stepped up already.”

“Maybe he wants a few more concessions - or he wants to do something that he couldn’t do as Chief Warlock.” Hermione speculated.

“What could he do now that he couldn’t as the leader of the Wizengamot?”

“I don’t know. Maybe he doesn’t want to set a precedent? Or doesn’t want the office become associated with killing?” Hermione frowned at her own words. “Or he simply is too busy tracking Voldemort and Snape to bother with politics.”

Harry nodded. That sounded likely. Dumbledore still maintained that Snape was on their side - or had been - but the young wizard didn’t believe that. The Potions professor had been too nasty to anyone not from Slytherin, too protective of scum like Malfoy, for someone opposing Voldemort. Hermione shared his scepticism. “I think that’s it. Who else would be able to find the Dark Lord? Surely not the aurors.”

Hermione giggled. “They’d find him only if they were trying to evade him.”

Harry laughed with his girlfriend at her joke. At least Voldemort was seriously weakened, having lost his best underlings, so he’d not be able to stir up trouble anytime soon.

*****​

The Dark Lord Voldemort gazed upon Hogwarts from the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Once the castle had been the only home he had known. He would have, had done, anything to stay there forever, instead of returning to his orphanage. Then it had become the bastion of his worst enemy. The fortress that had never fallen to him, had never been breached even. Now, with Dumbledore no longer the Headmaster of the school, or not yet again, it was the best chance he had to strike back at his enemies.

He looked to his side, at his assembled army. He had chosen to attack at night so his vampires would be able to partake in the fighting, and yet there were far fewer than he had expected. Barely a handful, compared to the army Roselyn had promised, but had failed to deliver. The vampiress had disappeared the night of the fight in the Ministry. Ultimately, she had been just another coward, deserting him at the first sign of a setback. Once he had conquered Britain he’d hunt her down and make her pay. He had not many werewolves either - only a few had joined his ranks, those of Fenrir Greyback’s followers who had not found another pack. Fortunately, they were the most vicious of Fenrir’s old pack - and all were carrying wands. Muggle werewolves knew better than to come to his attention.

At least he had his Death Eaters. They might not be as numerous, nor as skilled and experienced as he’d like them, and he had lost the best of them, but they were loyal, and knew their duty. He had made sure of that. And the demons under his banner - dementors, and other, more mercenary-minded species - would do his bidding, as long as there was loot and food. And Hogwarts would provide both.

And with his new power, the school was ripe for the picking. He might have lost his familiar, but he had gained so much strength, the wards would not stop him for long.

Raising his wand, he started the assault.

*****​

Ron Weasley was in the Room of Requirement, staring at the Marauder’s Map Harry and Hermione had sent to him a few days ago, trying to find a way to get to Malfoy without alerting his bodyguard - did the wizard have to sleep in the snake’s chamber? - when he felt the room tremble.

“What was that? Did one of your experiments backfire again?” He shouted towards his brothers.

“That wasn’t us, Ron.” Fred shook his head.

“If it affected the room, but didn’t happen inside…” George and Fred reached Ron just as he was folding the map out and checking the entire castle instead of just the Slytherin dorms.

“Merlin’s balls!”

Ron didn’t know who of the twins had said that, but seeing “Voldemort” at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, at the head of many, many others, it was certainly an apt reaction.

“Ron, Fred, George! All students have been ordered to their dorms! McGonagall said there were intruders!” Ginny, who was on lookout duty that night, stuck her head through the door that connected the Room of Requirement and the Gryffindor dorms.

“Intruders? It’s a bloody invasion!” Fred exclaimed.

“We need to keep control of this room. With the map we can use it to shuffle people around. Ambush the attackers.” Ron was staring at the map. They had to get help. He focused on the room, wishing for a floo. It appeared at once.

George was there before Ron could point it out. “The Burrow!” his brother threw powder into the fire, but the flames didn’t change color. “It’s not working!”

“They have blocked floo travel.” Ron cursed under his breath.

“That’s impossible. It’s Hogwarts! The Burrow!” Fred tried it himself, but had not any success either.

“It’s Voldemort. He doesn’t want the castle, he wants the students.” Ron stated. The Dark Lord was still at the edge of the forest. The castle trembled again. The young wizard had no doubt that the dorms wouldn’t be able to stand up to a force that was able to breach the wards of the school. They had to get the students to safety! But how, with the floo blocked - apparition was blocked anyway, as were portkeys. “We’ll evacuate the students through this room. Fred, George, open a door to the tunnel to Hogsmeade! Check if the way is clear! Ginny, get Lavender and Neville, we need to block the door here!” Any other door would disappear if they wished it, they couldn’t vanish the door to the 7th floor like that. He hoped none of the invaders knew about the room, but one had to prepare for the worst.

His siblings were already moving, for once not stopping to complain or make fun of him. Seeing the mass of invaders ready to storm the castle, Ron was not in a mood to celebrate.

*****​

Voldemort grinned and spread his arms wide. The wards had fallen! He wandlessly cast a Sonorous Charm so his voice would carry through the ranks of his army - and reach the castle’s defenders, to inform them of their fate. “The way his clear! Storm the castle! Kill the adults, but capture the children alive!”

The monsters to his left and right surged forward with a cacophony of inhuman roars and shouts. The Polgara demons were waving their skewers around - they had fed over an hour ago, when the centaurs had attempted to stop Voldemort’s advance, so they were getting hungry again. They and the Fyarl demons were his vanguard. Dumb and tough enough to lead the way.

As expected, the defenders had prepared while he had taken down the wards. Plants erupted from the ground halfway between the castle and the forest, tentacles wrapping around the demons in the lead, dragging them down into the earth. Sprout must have gotten some Brazilian Devil Snare, Voldemort noted. One of his Death Eaters showed initiative and cast a fire spell at the plant. Quick thinking, but the man must not have paid attention in Herbology. The plants ignited at once, burning the demons in their grasp to death as they turned into ashes themselves. But the way was clear now. He sent a few dementors ahead as well, but kept the rest in reserve - they’d stop reinforcements from arriving. There were not many who could cast a Patronus strong enough to drive a dementor away, and they would be held back by helping the others who were too weak to protect themselves.

“My Lord!” Another of his Death Eaters, Crawley, addressed him. “My son’s in Slytherin, he’s a seventh year, and an adult!”

Voldemort scoffed at the man. If the Death Eater’s son was an adult, why hadn’t the brat sworn himself to the Dark Lord already? “You should hurry to the Slytherin dorms then, so you arrive before our hungrier allies!” That should motivate the man to do his best.

He dismissed the matter and strode forward, to deal with the first line of defenders. He had to take the castle before reinforcements and Dumbledore appeared.

Once he had the children in his power, the old man and the Ministry would have to surrender.

*****​

“The way is clear!” Fred was bent over, hands on his knees, panting. He must have run the whole way. “George is guarding the exit!”

Ron smiled. Finally, good news - the invaders were already at the walls. “Did you alert the aurors?” The curse from Fred told him all he needed to know. “Hurry back and get to a floo in Hogsmeade! Inform dad and Sirius!” Their dad would be able to reach Dumbledore, and Sirius would be able to inform Harry and Hermione - and with them the Slayer.

“Ginny!” His sister turned towards him from where she was helping Lavender, Parvati and Neville to reinforce the door to the 7th floor. “Get back to our dorm and get all the Gryffindors in here! Hex them if you must, but get them in here so they can flee to Hogsmeade!”

The witch ran off. Ron returned his attention to the map. Part of the wall had disappeared. A veritable horde was rushing to the castle. Many of the names of the invaders he couldn’t understand, or even pronounce. Where did Voldemort get them… then he realized what they were. Demons! And the names of the defenders were disappearing. They couldn’t apparate on the grounds so that meant...

The first Gryffs were arriving - confused and afraid first and second years. They gazed in wonder at a room they had not known of. Ron cursed. They would need a third year to lead them around in Hogsmeade, so they could floo to safety. He sent them through the door to the tunnel anyway. They’d be safer there. When he spotted Colin Creevey he shouted “Colin! Run ahead, and make sure the firsties and second years reach the next floo!”

“But I can help here!” Colin brandished his wand.

“They need your help more! Do you want Death Eaters to catch them? Go! Run!” Ron screamed at him, and the boy jumped through the door without another word.

Another look at the map showed Ron that the invaders had gotten inside the castle. They were running out of time. “Parvati! Go and get the Ravenclaws! Hurry!” He pointed at a door he had the room create right then.

“Lavender!” Ron pointed at another door. “That leads to the badgers!” They would be more organized than the ‘Claws. ‘Puffs stuck together. “Get Susan to evacuate them to this place, then return!”

“Neville! Grab volunteers from our sixth and seventh years, and barricade that door!” Ron turned to the map again. The invaders were rapidly advancing. He couldn’t see many auror names at all - they must have been killed, or fled. Most of the teachers seemed to fall back to the dorms. The first demons reached the courtyard. Death Eaters - those names sounded familiar - were rushing towards Slytherin. Well, the snakes would be safe from them, wouldn’t they?

The first ‘Puffs and ‘Claws were arriving, and things started to get crowded. That most of the students didn’t know what was happening and many were wondering where they were didn’t help. Ron focused his will, and the room grew in size, the doors relocated so there was space for the students who could not yet leave through the tunnel.

Then he cast a Sonorous and shouted: “Everyone, shut up! Voldemort and an army of demons and Death Eaters are attacking the school. They have breached the walls. The aurors and teachers cannot stop them. This door there leads to a secret tunnel to Hogsmeade. We’ll get you all out, just wait your turn. Prefects - make sure no one is left behind, and guard the entrances!” The confused and scared students were as loud as before, but at least they knew what was happening. Ron looked at the map again.

The first Death Eaters had reached the Slytherin dorm entrance. Professor Sinistra was there too, on the other side. Ready to defend the dorm. Ron balled his fist. The snakes should be safe… at least the ones with Death Eater parents. And if he tried to evacuate the Slytherins, the snakes would sabotage the evacuation, or betray them to Voldemort. Couldn’t risk that. He should leave them to their fate. He… couldn’t do that.

Ron turned to the group of volunteers around Neville. “Neville! I am opening a door to the snakes. Take half the people here and start getting them in here. Anyone who gives you trouble, stun them!” Neville had some family on the Slytherin side, he’d be the best choice to handle that. “Everyone! We’ll get Slytherins in here soon. Some of them might be enemies, so keep your wands ready and your guard up!”

Neville started to run, pushing his way through another bunch of disorganized Ravenclaws. The badgers arrived by years, led by prefects, the youngest ones first, and Ron had a feeling many of their upper years would want to stay and make sure everyone else got out first.

He hoped they’d not need them to. But another look at the map told him his hope would be in vain, should anyone of the enemies know about the Room of Requirement.

*****​

Voldemort’s shield barely flickered in response to the curse that hit it. The Dark Lord turned and spotted an auror one floor above him, casting down at his army. Voldemort saw the red-robed wizard’s eyes widen when the fool realized just who he had attacked. Before the man could flee, Voldemort’s Blasting Curse hit the floor under him and blew it and the idiot up.

Up ahead a bunch of Polgara demons ran up one of the stairs, but missed that it was moving, and the first rank fell to their death. It wasn’t the only such incident - it seemed Hogwarts itself was defying him! He’d teach the castle who was its master, once his enemies had surrendered or fled!

The Slytherins would be handled by his Death Eaters, he could trust them. But attacking any of the other dorms might draw out McGonagall and Flitwick - two formidable fighters whose spells had already taken a toll on his army. Neither could stand against him, of course. They’d defend any dorm so it didn’t matter which one he would attack. He picked Gryffindor - the house of Slytherin’s worst rival. The demons could deal with the Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws.

On the way a pack of Hellhounds ran past him, chasing a fleeing auror. Voldemort’s body-binding spell ended the wizard’s flight and he toppled over, screaming and cursing while ineffectually trying to break the spell. Grinning, the Dark Lord walked away, stepping over a dead Lei-Ach demon, while the demons started to feed on the man’s brain.

A sign on a door, ‘Headmaster’s Office’, made the Dark Lord pause. That wasn’t the Headmaster’s office. Then he remembered Runcorn. Smiling, he blew the door open, then sent a dementor inside. The screams didn’t stop until he had almost reached the Gryffindor tower. The Fat Lady wasn’t in the portrait, and wouldn’t have opened to door for him anyway. It didn’t matter - it took only a few spells to get past the portrait.

The common room inside seemed empty. No sign of either McGonagall or Flitwick - which meant there were traps and they were lying in ambush for him, of course. A few finites revealed transfigured and disillusioned animals, which he quickly dispatched with a few piercing and blasting spells. The expected attack from the two didn’t follow though. Frowning, he ventured forth. Another trap at the entrance to the girls’ dorm. He finited it and sent a Grox’lar Beast up the stairs. It slid down again when the stairs disappeared.

“Who here is female?” Voldemort looked at the demons around him. One giant mantis raised its - her - claw. “Go up there!”

The stairs stayed for her, and the demon climbed up. Voldemort sent the Grox’lar Beast up to the boys’ dorms. The beast moved more cautiously now. Not cautiously enough though - Voldemort heard a scream, and pieces of the demon rolled down the stairs.

Smirking, Voldemort conjured a cloud of acid and sent it up the stairs. It would fill the tower, and force the teachers to deal with it before the children died. And two dementors, immune to the acid, would make that quite difficult. With a nod, he sent them upstairs as well.

After a few minutes without anything happening - and no screams - they descended again. At the same time, the mantis demon returned, announcing in her clicking language that the dorms were empty.

Cursing, the Dark Lord turned around. He needed those children as hostages for his plan to work! “To Ravenclaw!”

*****​

McGonagall and Flitwick looked rather hurt, Ron noticed, as he made the door behind them disappear. Their skin and robes were discolored. Neither seemed to let that affect them though. “Impressive, Mister Weasley. But where are you evacuating the students to?” The Deputy Headmistress asked raising an eyebrow at the still chaotic mess in the Room of Requirement.

“Tunnel to Hogsmeade.” Ron answered, then blinked. “We need to seal the other end of the tunnel too, before someone finds it.” He pointed at two of the Ravenclaw prefects pushing their lower years through the door. “Melanie! Roger! Go and fill the other side of the tunnel, the one that leads back to Hogwarts, with conjured stone!” The two headed through the door. Probably glad to have an excuse to leave, Ron thought, then shook his head. They had stayed to help, after all. He glanced over at the door to the Slytherin dorms. Neville hadn’t made much progress, but a number of the snakes were huddled in the room now, and more were trickling in. “The Slytherins are making trouble though.” And the Ravenclaws were still not done. At least the badgers had all left their dorm. Sprout wasn’t with them though. Ron didn’t think that was a good sign.

Flitwick was looking at the map. “Marvelous piece of charmswork. Who created it?”

“The Marauders - Potter, Black, Lupin.” Ron didn’t mention the traitor. Wait a minute… that traitor was here too! “Lavender! Search the map for Pettigrew! He can change into a rat and reach just about all places here.”

Then he spotted something else. A group of demons was gathering near the kitchens. The House Elves! He had forgotten about them! Hermione would kill him!

*****​

India Cohen was frowning at Kit. Behind his back, of course. She had still not forgiven him for telling her that she should have ignored him and attacked the vampire witch. The fool! He might have died if she had done so! And if he had died, she certainly wouldn’t have wanted to live on.

“Pay attention to the book, India, not my back.” Kit said without looking up from his own book. How had he noticed? She was the Slayer, able to sneak up on demons!

He looked back at her right when she was sticking her tongue out, and grinned when she froze. He was her Watcher, indeed. Instead of apologizing and going back to studying - she was no Granger, she was the Slayer! - she stood up and walked, stalked over to Kit. His eyebrows rose, and she smirked.

“We have work to do. Training and studying.” Kit stated when she stopped at his table, next to him. He didn’t sound that convincing to her though.

“Mh.” India sat down in his lap and ran her hands over his shirt, tracing his muscles. He stiffened under her. Not convincing at all. Grinning, she leaned forward to kiss her Watcher.

She was about to unbutton his shirt - he had told her not to rip them off anymore - when she heard steps in the hallway. Pouting, she slid off Kit, who understood at once and started to smooth his clothes. Whoever was about to disturb them better have a very good reason, or India would hurt them!

The door was thrown open by Granger. The witch looked out of breath. No stamina, India thought. Potter was an unfortunate boyfriend compared to Kit.

“Voldemort is attacking Hogwarts with an army of demons! We’re going in!” The girl shouted.

India smiled. She’d get to kill the Dark Lord for disrupting her fun with Kit!

*****​

Albus Dumbledore cursed himself for a fool. If only he had accepted his old offices back at once this would not be happening! Voldemort would never have dared attacking Hogwarts if he had still or again been the Headmaster! But no, he had stalled, thinking he could do more while unburdened by additional duties, until Voldemort was defeated. Wished to avoid the politics for a bit longer. Hoped to find that they wouldn’t need him as much as they believed they did. And now this!

He was addressing the Order, which was still gathering at Grimmauld Place 12. They couldn’t wait for everyone though - and most of those who had yet to arrive were not experienced combattants anyway. Not that they had many of those. Not among the older generation. Alastor, of course. Sirius and Remus - he had cleared them, at least. Amelia hadn’t even tried to argue when he had explained things this time. That was it, more or less. The younger generation would have to step up. Nymphadora had been called in with the other aurors, but young William and Charlie were ready to fight. Molly and Arthur were there too - it would be foolish to try to keep them from going, not with four of their family in danger at Hogwarts. Another new arrival stepped out of the floo: Percival. That was a surprise. But then, family stuck together in such times. Or should, he added, feeling an old pain.

They couldn’t wait any longer. “My friends. Voldemort, with an army of demons, is attacking Hogwarts. They are evacuating the children, but the situation is dire, even desperate.”

“Albus! Demons! My children are there!” Molly yelled.

Albus could see that the thought of facing an army of demons was weighing heavily on everyone’s mind. “We are not alone in this. Aurors are on the way as well.” That didn’t make much of an impression. Understandable, if regrettable. He smiled. “And the Slayer will be joining us as well.”

As expected that had an even worse - and louder - effect. And he hadn’t even told them yet that Harry and Hermione would be fighting as well.

*****​

The door to the Ravenclaw dorms wasn’t simply blasted open - it was blasted to smithereens by Voldemort’s spell. He would find the children, he would get his hostages, no matter who he had to kill, no matter what he had to destroy! This time he didn’t send any demons forward, instead leading the charge himself. He heard voices from upstairs. Yes!

Instead of running he flew up. Another door tried to bar his way and was blasted to dust in an instant. There! The students were … escaping through a door guarded by McGonagall and Flitwick!

He sent a barrage of curses at the two. Flitwick could have dodged them - the former dueling champion wouldn’t be caught that easily - but the curses would have struck his fleeing students instead. So he was forced to block, and his shield couldn’t stop all the spells Voldemort knew. McGonagall fared better, using transfigured and conjured walls to block his spell, but she couldn’t shield everyone - and she protected the students as well. The charms professor with the tainted heritage went down, one arm shriveling up while he screamed under the Cruciatus.

Voldemort was about to finish the diminutive wizard when suddenly the entire room was filled with darkness. He dropped to the floor at once, just in time - the demons behind him yelled with pain as curses and what sounded like banished blades struck them. When the Dark Lord had banished the Darkness, his enemies and the door they had been fleeing through had vanished.

How had they… of course! The Room of Requirement!

Grinning cruelly, the Dark Lord stepped over his fallen demons. He knew how to reach that room. They wouldn’t escape from him again.


Chapter 18: Showdown