Sparks erupt around Diagon Alley in a spectrum of colours, and most of them are aimed right at his chest. But he's fast – too fast. Quick to shield, to dodge, to counter. Malevolent reds and greens and purples explode around him, so bright and hot they're almost blinding. Black cloaks and smoke-like masks dance a dizzying waltz around him, vanishing one second and reappearing the next. The Knights of Walpurgis? The Death Shitters? Whatever they're calling themselves these days.
This is the second time they've ambushed him in as many weeks. There's a leak in the Order, he's sure of it… but that's the last thing on his mind. All he can think of in this moment is the jet of emerald light that just zipped past his ear. His heart beats like a drum, drowning out their taunts. The alley around him is disintegrating with each passing minute. The old stones of Diagon weren't built to resist this kind of magic. The wall across from him makes a worrying sound, grinding as it teeters.
Bombarda Maxima, he thinks, wand pointed and thoughts focused.
The explosion takes everyone off guard – even him. Stones soar out in all directions. He hears the screams of his attackers as they collapse underneath the weight of the rubble, most too slow to protect themselves. Two or three disappear with a crack. He's on high alert, unsure if they're gone for good. Alastor manages to escape most of the crumbling wall, but there's a shard of glass protruding from his right leg and he feels hot blood trickling down into one of his eyes. He cracks his wand like a whip. Debris clears and the broken bodies beneath are struggling to move, coughing out pleas for help. He slashes his wand again and heavy chains twirl around those left behind.
A silvery phoenix glides down to his side. It opens its beak and Dumbledore's voice escapes it.
"We've received word of a possible ambush, keep your eyes open," it says then disappears in a wisp of silver smoke, just as he tries to blink the blood away from his eye.
The other Aurors show up then, as he's laughing amongst the dead and dying.
Mad Moody, they whisper. He wonders why.