Team Twenty-Eight

By Sapphire200182

Disclaimer: I don't own anything.

Dedicated to the fighting men and women of the armed forces. Fight for the Light!

Chapter 1: The Betrayer

In the early days of the Great Wizarding War, Azkaban Island was taken by Dark Forces, and the criminals incarcerated within were freed to join the growing army of the Dark Lord Voldemort. The island remained the center of Voldemort's evil for the next few months. Later on in the War, a daring assault was made on the Island. Many people died in the attack, but the casualties would have been much higher if not for the gallant sacrifice of Order of the Phoenix member Justin Finch-Fletchley and the members of his assigned team. Always will we remember them in our hearts.

–Professor Hermione Weasley, during a History of Magic lesson at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry–

Azkaban Island,

Somewhere.

0330 hours.

The pre-dawn stillness of Azkaban Island was broken as the three wizards and two witches appeared in the clearing with a muted pop!.

Justin Finch-Fletchley scanned the tree line, wand outstretched. Behind him, Colin Creevey cast a spell to reveal any concealed Dark troops or Animagi.

"Nothing," he rasped. His throat felt dry, and fear edged his voice. Azkaban Island exuded an aura of evil before the war, when it was under Ministry control, but it had become an even worse place of terror since Voldemort had taken over. The best Aurors would not set foot within miles of the island, not even with a 100-strong escort of highly-trained operatives.

"Right. Susan?" asked Justin. He too, felt the fear in his heart, but it was tinged with dread and horror at what he knew he had to do.

Behind them, Susan Bones gave the all-clear signal.

"Sound off," she whispered.

"Justin Finch-Fletchley."

"Colin Creevey."

"Dennis Creevey."

"Susan Bones."

"Gabrielle Delacour."

Justin nodded, and led the way ahead. Officially, they were doing a reconnaissance for the planned pre-dawn assault tomorrow by Aurors and the other members of the Order, aimed at taking back the Island and freeing the fifteen or so wizards who had been captured and confirmed alive. Many more had died at the hands of the enemy.

But only Justin knew what they were doing. And the burden of command weighed heavily down on him, knowing what he must do.

Betray his followers to the Dark Lord.

His mind flashed back to his meeting with the master planner of this daring attack.

Chapter 2: The Beginning

"Sit down, Justin."

Ron Weasley seemed to be uneasy. As Justin sat in the little office at the Ministry of Magic where Ronald Weasley worked as an Unspeakable, he watched as the man set a series of Silencing Charms, Privacy wards and Anti-Apparation wards.

"What's the big secret?" he asked, attempting at a grin. But Ron was in no mood for it.

"You know that the Order is planning a big attack on Azkaban." Justin nodded.

"But you don't know what Harry and I have been planning."

Justin leaned forward. Ron was whispering by now.

"Three weeks from now, at 0530 hours, the Ministry will hit Azkaban Island. But at the same time, a special team will Apparate into the depths of Albania and destroy the final Horcrux that has been discovered – although Voldemort doesn't know it's been found."

Justin sat bolt upright. He had never been high-ranking enough in either the Ministry or the Order to get in on the big stuff. He'd just been a soldier. And a damn good one at that.

"The Horcrux is a cauldron. The cauldron that Peter Pettigrew used to bring V-V-Voldemort back to this world, using the life of Cedric Diggory to cut off the fragment of Voldemort's soul and conceal it within."

Justin nodded. Ron stopped to sip a glass of water, and continued.

"Bound by the fact that Harry saved his life, which is a very ancient magical bond that all wizards must pay, Peter very begrudgingly told us what the final Horcrux is. He did this with Voldemort's permission, although Voldemort tortured him for days after that and demoted him. We then fed the Death Eaters disinformation to the fact that we didn't believe Pettigrew a word, complete with dozens of excuses why we didn't."

Justin smiled, and said, "Go on." This was getting interesting.

"A master spy of mine – within the Death Eater ranks itself – told me that Voldemort has been lulled into a sense of complacency. He believes that we distrust Pettigrew's reports, and that we are weak and almost eliminated."

Justin wondered idly who this master spy was. He had balls! Justin hoped that Ron would introduce him to this extraordinary man when all this was over.

"When this spy checked in, he saw that the Horcrux was still not moved from its' place in Albania. The Horcrux is under heavy guard. But when the Order strikes at Azkaban, the guard will be slackened off the Horcrux and they will all go to Azkaban to – they believe – eliminate the Order once and for all."

Justin frowned. "But they won't. They'll just sit tight and defend the Horcrux."

Ron smiled grimly. "No. Because you will tell them that all of the Ministry and the Order is attacking Azkaban, and the Dark Lord will send all his minions to lay a trap on Azkaban."

Justin gasped, and stood up. "What!"

"You will be inserted in the day before, ostensibly on a recce mission, you will be captured, and under extreme pain, duress and lack of sleep, you will spill your yellow guts to the Dark Lord…"

Justin couldn't believe his ears. "Blessed Mother…" he whispered hoarsely.

He whirled round, and tried the doorknob. Locked. Pulling out his wand, he aimed it at the door, and yelled "Reducto!" The door didn't move, and certainly didn't disintegrate. Turning, he advanced on Ron, wand outstretched.

"You…you're a Dark agent! It's a trick!"

Ron held up his hands. "Look. No wand. And Harry can confirm my story if you want. Or McGonagall."

Justin breathed deeply. "Voldemort won't trust me. I'm just a small guy."

Ron smiled again. "That's why we're elevating you to team leader. Team Twenty-Eight. Bones, Gabrielle Delacour, the Creeveys. They'll all hate you for it, and you'll feel bitter as they mistreat you, Colin will try to wrest control and leadership, they'll support Colin, and your life will be a miserable living hell. That will turn you to the Dark Side and persuade you to betray your comrades to Voldemort. He'll swallow it, sure as hell."

Justin sighed. "I'm…not worthy of this. I can't do it. Send somebody else."

Ron brought his fist down on the desk. It was the first time Justin saw him this angry since Malfoy had mocked him at school. No, come to think of it, not even that.

"No!" he shouted. "You will do it, Justin Finch-Fletchley, and you will betray your compatriots to the Dark Lord. Besides," and Ron sat back in his chair, voice dripping with sarcasm as he tried to master his emotions, "you're the team leader of Team 28. You should do as you're told."

As Justin left the office, he swore and cursed his luck.

Chapter 3: The Capture

0445 hours.

As Justin lead them further inland, Colin got more and more agitated. Finally, unable to control himself, he burst out.

"Are you some kinda glory-hunting medal-grabbing asshole? We've surveyed the island twice over and that's enough! You're bringing us closer to being discovered!"

In reply to Colin, Justin led them closer inland.

"I want to get a look at the castle defences. There might be…" But he never finished his sentence. There was a roaring in his ears, a buffeting of wind against his face, and he fell to the ground, his shoulder bleeding like hell.

But the pain was nothing compared to the pain in his heart as he realized that Phase One of Ron Weasley's audacious plan had worked. Justin looked up, at the trees around them. Death Eaters, trolls and giants surrounded them. The bitter taste of bile rose in his throat.

His wand was a few feet away, and he tried to reach for it, but a boot came down on his wand, splintering it. He looked up straight into Draco Malfoy's grinning face.

"It's Potter's pet Hufflepuff, sneaking around Azkaban looking for Death Eaters. Well, you've found them." He gestured at the ranks of Dark followers around him. The Dark troops chuckled, a hair-raising snigger that seemed to permeate Justin's soul, filling it with terrible thoughts of torture.

Behind him, he sensed the Creeveys' fury, and he knew that they'd already been disarmed. The girls were huddled together, their bravado gone as the Death Eaters closed in on Team Twenty-Eight.

"Good night, Fletchley."

Then Draco's wand came down on Justin, a jet of light struck him in the head and he collapsed on the ground.

Sometime in the morning.

Justin came to his senses slowly, shaking the cobwebs from his head as the persistant mewling of a kitten broke through to his consciousness.

He awoke fully, staring at the high vaulted ceiling, the barred window that let the tiniest ray of light into the room, and the damp floor beneath him.

Justin realized he was in a prison cell. Probably on Azkaban. He realized he was deprived of his cloak, and it was chilly.

The cell was all stone and iron. There were no bars, no windows, nothing except stone walls and an iron door. Of course, all sorts of magical wards were up, but these were quite invisible.

The mewing sound came again, followed by footsteps. It was then that he realized it was not a kitten who was making that sound.

The door flew open, and a masked Death Eater came into the room, toting a writhing Colin Creevey in the air with his wand. As Justin watched, horrified, the Death Eater flung Colin into a corner, and sent a jolt of the Crusciatus Curse at him.

The mewing sound came in again, as Colin desperately tried to keep from talking, and Justin realized he was actually biting his tongue hard to stop from screaming. But before a minute was up, he broke down, screaming.

"AAAAAAAAGHH! STOP IT, YOU FUCKING BASTARDS…I DON'T…KNOW…A THING…ARRGH-uh!"

He grunted as the Death Eater jerked his wand upwards, stopping the curse. The Death Eater stared at him, studying him intently from behind the mask. Justin knew he was next, and he sagged against the wall, as he remembered the Plan. And he remembered what he must do.

Sell his friends to the Dark Lord.

About An Hour Later.

There were times, in between the torture, when Justin lost consciousness. His back was bruised and bleeding, the skin and flesh hanging in ribbons. The nerves there were almost completely severed, but his torturers seemed to know their human anatomy, twisting them this way and that to inflict the maximum pain.

They had brought along a couple of Dementors, sucking the very last vestiges of hope and anything else that he had still retained after an hour of the most brutal torture ever devised. Now, he only hoped to tell what he had come to tell, and then to roll over and die.

He was naked, forced to prostrate himself on the ground as the Death Eaters tried to get him to talk, and he knew that Malfoy was overseeing the proceedings. There were at least six in the room, watching, but only two were his interrogators. One had shown his face briefly, to spit on him, and Justin knew that he had a scar. Thus, he had been assigned the nickname Scarface in Justin's battered mind.

He felt himself wrenched up from the ground, and he groaned in pain. As a Death Eater he had identified as Theodore Nott gripped his shoulders, Scarface in front landed an agonizing kick to his groin.

Justin fell, and retched. His stomach was having dry heaves, everything else had already been thrown up. He felt his hair gripped by yet another Death Eater, and he was wrenched upwards and his face forced to stare at a dark, robed figure in front.

"Finch-Fletchley. I still remember you. Abysmal really, the potions that you once brewed under me. When will you learn that it is best to tell the Dark Lord what he needs to know and give up the ghost? It would be much better than having to suffer this torture."

He remembered that silky voice. Snape. And yes, he could still see the greasy hair under the fucking murderer's mask.

"Dumbledore," he rasped. "Why?"

Snape chucled, a caricature of true humour that chilled Justin to the bone. Then he felt a ring of glass inside his mouth, knew it came from a bottle, and a potion ran inside him, freezing out his insides completely as it ran its' course from the top of his head down to the tips of his toes. Like the feeling you got from a Disillusionment Charm, except this was on the inside.

"You'll find it is too late for anything other than to tell me what I want and then meet the old coot in Death. Now tell me what I want! Crucio!"

An agonizing blow hit him in the midriff, sending him flying, as he was torn out of Nott's grasp, writhing under the Crusciatus, and crashing against the far wall of the dungeon, and he felt a crackle as five of his ribs were broken, along with his left ankle, his right wrist and his right femur.

Through it all, the Crusciatus Curse flowed through him, seeking out the most painful and sensitive parts of him, finding the broken bones and seeming to manipulate them in different directions, and he screamed in pure agony.

Then, mercifully, he blacked out. Before he fell unconscious, he heard various voices in the background.

"You shouldn't have given him the pain amplifier. It's obvious he knows nothing."

"It was a failed gamble. What a waste. Bring the French girl. We'll have some fun with her and see whether she'll talk."

About Two hours Later. No-one really knows.

Justin awoke to find that he was laid out in his old dungeon, pain throbbing through every part of his body. He tried to get up, but the fractured bones prevented him from doing so. Indeed, he had difficulty even breathing.

Colin was huddled in a corner, face hidden. Justin could only recognise his robes. In another corner, Dennis Creevey was similarly positioned, but the young teenager had fallen asleep, exhausted and fatigued.

It occurred to Justin that he could hear weeping. Perhaps it was Colin…no, it was definitely female. It seemed to be coming from the cell next to his. Pressed up against the wall, Justin could hear it faintly.

His heart sank, as he remembered Gabrielle Delacour and Susan Bones. He remembered the savaged witches who kept vanishing and then turning up in Diagon Alley a few days later, victims of the Death Eaters' brutal lust. More often than not, they'd had their breasts hacked off by Death Eaters as well. Probably as keepsakes and souvenirs.

Next door, he could hear footsteps, then he heard a door slam. Then, a voice in heavily-accented English.

"Sacre bleunon, non! Not again! No, pleez, I bezeech you…NO! NO! Noooo…" The screams trailed off, replaced by a fading sound of sobbing as the footsteps grew more faint, disappearing down the corridor on the other side.

A lump rose in his throat. "No girl should be treated like that," he whispered to himself silently.

More footsteps approached again, and his door banged open. Justin could see Draco Malfoy's dark face, and he appeared to be smiling. Dark shadows hid his face from view. Then Justin blacked out again.

Chapter 4: The Betrayal

Sometime in the Night.

He'd done it. He'd finally 'spilled his guts' after another hour of bloody torture. As, kneeling down, he told all before the shocked faces of Team 28 and the Death Eaters, Justin felt rather than saw the incriminating stare of his team and the gleeful, cheery Dark troops assembled around the torture chamber.

Draco Malfoy was there too. As Justin finished, he clapped his hands slowly. "Well, well, well. So that's what the Order and the Ministry intend to do, eh?"

His faithful lackey, Nott, was by his master's side. "But, Draco, we didn't get to…interrogate the Bones girl."

Justin heard Susan gasp behind him, and groaned softly. How many bloody more, he thought. Enough people had been put through the worst ordeal of their lives already. How many more torture sessions before Justin and the rest of Team 28 could die?

He could hear Gabrielle weeping behind him.

"Never mind," he heard Draco say, "we'll save her for the victory celebrations. Oh, and Finch-Fletchley," he said, and Justin stiffened. "We'll try to get as many girl Order members as possible. You wouldn't want to have a boring celebration either, right?"

Damn! The ferret must have practiced Legilimency. But in the weeks before this, Harry and Hermione had very carefully coached him on the finer points of Occlumency. He knew he was now immune to most anything except the Dark Lord…or maybe Snape. So he sagged to the floor, intent on keeping up the pretence that Malfoy had detected his darkest secret.

"Take them away. Put them all in Cell Fifteen. We'll see how Team Twenty-Eight…ah, congratulates their leader on his astonishing knack of being able to keep secrets well."

Then Malfoy turned to leave. But before he strutted out of the doorway, he stopped, turned and walked back to the kneeling members of Team 28. He grabbed Justin by the chin, and pointed his wand at him. Justin shut his eyes, and smiled, willing Malfoy to kill him then and there. To end the pain in his heart. Malfoy saw the smile, and flicked his wand, healing Justin's fractures. "You'll not die that easy," he muttered…

Cell 15

"You fucking traitor!"

Justin felt Colin's hard fist rocket into his jaw, and he fell back, staggering against the wall. Blearily, he stared up at the angry faces of the Creevey brothers. Dennis kicked his groin, and Justin collapsed, doubled up in agony.

"I overheard the Death Eaters say they're calling back all forces over the globe to Azkaban so they can deal with this attack. You've doomed us all!"

Justin felt a flicker of hope, that the 'special team' would get to Romania and destroy the Horcrux…then the thought was immediately stashed away within the deepest, darkest cupboards of Justin's mind. No Legilimens would pull out this secret from him, he vowed.

Then, a single beam of light penetrated the barred window, signaling dawn, and Justin realized it was the day of the attack.

Colin sank to his knees, shaking his head, tears streaming down. His brother, still a teenager dragged into an adult's war, sagged to the ground, both hands going up to cover his face as he cried silently.

In the far corner of the room, the girls huddled together and began to sob.

"We're all going to die," muttered Dennis Creevey.

Somewhere on Azkaban.

0531 hours.

The first wave of Aurors appeared with a crack! onto the beach, the only place on Azkaban where thousands of creatures could safely Apparate together. The first wave was mostly Aurors, Curse Breakers and Unspeakables: the very elite of the elite.

These were battle-scarred veterans from all over the world, experienced men and women who were the knights and bishops of Ron Weasley's global chessboard. Eight hundred strong. They brought along with them the few non-humans who had allied themselves to the Light cause.

These were the wild cards; Ron still had no idea of their capabilities. Five hundred centaurs Portkeyed to the beach, under the able leadership of Firenze and Ronan: the very few who had Seen and knew what needed to be done.

The goblin war contingent (nearly three hundred strong) had been raised at the last moment, when the Warlocks of Gringotts Bank had sent out an appeal to all those who "know and understand the terrible danger we are in" to assemble and let themselves be guided by Harry Potter.

Added to these were the few intelligent Hippogriffs and dragons who knew the life of slavery and oppression they would be forced to live if the Dark won. Added to this thirty-strong mixture were the fifteen or so giants and half-giants gathered together by the combined efforts of Hagrid, Grawp and Madame Maxime.

To these were added the women and young adults who could fight; yes, even sixteen year olds who could wield a wand skilfully were sent into the battle. It was also a veritable who's who of famous people; the Weird Sisters, all the Quidditch Teams of the world and various other well-known wizards and witches.

These numbered three hundred, but Ron knew that they would be as pawns in a game of Knights and Bishops.

All of Humanity's forces: two thousand men, women and children. And these were the buffers, who would buy the time for Hermione, Ron and Ginny to reach the Horcrux, and destroy it. The time for Harry to destroy Voldemort would be time bought with the life of these.

As the army formed up, they marched inland, the centaurs scouting ahead at the forefront, goblins as the vanguard, the women and young ones in the center, backed up by the Aurors, and flanked by the giants, dragons, Curse Breakers and Unspeakables.

It was a tense moment.

Thousands of miles away, Healers all over the globe put the finishing touches on the hundreds of hurriedly-built hospitals to house the wounded.

London.

Dobby the house-elf looked solemnly at Winky, preparing to do their duty in St. Mungo's Hospital.

Somewhere in the Forbidden Forest.

A young centaur stared up at the receding night, and knew that the fate of humanity would be decided on this day. He chided himself that he had listened to his mother and not volunteered for the army. But Uncle Ronan had told him to stay, and he must.

Albania.

In Albania, a party of wizards and witches – the flower of Dumbledore's Army – prepared to storm the location of the final Horcrux; young men and women who had grown with their old friend Harry Potter into maturity far beyond their young years.

Moments into the march, a collective AVADA KEDAVRA boomed out from the trees; surviving witnesses later said that as many as thirty centaurs, goblins and humans fell at this instant.

Firenze and Ronan charged forward, followed by the Warlocks of the goblin clans. Screaming animal-like battle cries, they burst through the center of the Death Eater line, as the shocked Dark troops fell back for an instant. Aurors, Curse Breakers, and the assorted troops of the Humans struck, battling the Death Eaters and dislodging them from their fortifications.

The dragons roared, and charged forwards along with the other highly-intelligent magical creatures, rooting out shocked Death Eaters from the trees with jets of flame.

But, as the impetus of the centaur attack petered out, it was one-on-one fighting as the forces of Light and Dark grappled.

Albania.

0547 hours.

At that same moment, Ron hurried forward, Hermione, Luna, Neville, Dean and Seamus pounding at his heels. In front of them, a seemingly-abandoned castle beckoned.

Hagrid followed not far behind, his wand finally out of the umbrella, wrapped with liberal amounts of Spellotape. His crossbow hung on his back, a full quiver of arrows tipped with various types of fast-acting poison. Fang ran at his heels, ready to fight as well.

Witherwings – a.k.a. Buckbeak – flapped above the group, the quasi-intelligent Hippogriff knowing full well about the struggle between Light and Dark and rejoicing in the perceived chance to strike back at the hated Dark forces, not too few of which had oppressed the Hippogriffs of the world for years.

Madame Maxime led a grim flock of Beauxbatons seventh-year students, her jaw set. Few saw Hagrid give her a giant (literally) hug and kiss, and fewer knew that they were engaged. Or that they had asked Harry Potter to be the best man.

As they crested over a rise, they saw the giants, ogres and trolls still guarding the castle. Ron shot a series of curses at them, and battle was joined.

Azkaban.

0601 hours.

The battle was getting fiercer. Firenze swung his double-ended spear around, knocking the wand from a startled Death Eater. The second blow laid him out senseless on the ground. Firenze was in a mood to kill, but there were more Death Eaters to knock down. He would let the yearling colts take the wounded.

He glanced at his spear, blooded with the life-fluid of twenty enemies. The centaurs hated killing, but when the last comes to the last they knew how to fight. The blade of the spear was six inches broad, and more than two feet long. It was razor-sharp, and poisoned too.

Behind him, a centaur bellowed in agony, a Crusciatus Curse striking him and lifting him off his feet. The culprit – a massively-built Death Eater – was actually laughing, and Firenze started after him, enraged.

Then, laughter turned to wails as an arrow whizzed from behind Firenze's ear and buried itself in the Death Eater's right eyehole. The mask covered much of the gore, but blood and brains splattered out of the slits in the man's mask.

Turning, Firenze saw Ronan nock another arrow in his bow, and send it home into a troll's eye.

A goblin screamed as an Avada killed him; a Warlock levitated a nearby boulder and released it over a vampire and two Death Eaters in retaliation. Werewolves began tearing into the centaur ranks, and Firenze struck mercilessly at the centaur race's sworn enemies, killing three with mighty slashes and stabs. The battle grew yet more ferocious. Neither side would give quarter.

Azkaban Prison.

Main Tower.

0617 hours.

Voldemort stared out the window, watching the battle with glee. Things could not be going better.

Then, a fireball materialized behind him, and Harry Potter stepped into the room from the fireball, Fawkes the phoenix on his arm.

Voldemort did not move. What had he to fear from this young upstart? Dumbledore was dead.

"You'll pay for all the people you killed, Voldemort." Harry had his wand out already, pointing straight at Voldemort's back.

"Dumbledore is dead. Your army is wearing themselves out against my thousands of followers. Even in death, my follower remain faithful!"

As Harry watched, Voldemort cast a spell out over the island. All over the island, the earth trembled and shook, then erupted as literally tens of thousands of corpses came marching out of the ground. Voldemort had thrown in his corps reserves, the Inferi Army of Azkaban.

"Every one of your men who die bolster my forces. Watch and learn, Potter."

Over the ages, at least fifty thousand people had died and been buried here on Azkaban. He was merely utilising their rotting and decaying corpses.

But the ever-careful strategist Ron Weasley had thought of this. As soon as the Aurors saw the Inferi coming out to attack, they shot red sparks in the air, and the dragons saw the prearranged signal.

Aurors took over the dragons' duties for a moment as the great winged creatures roamed the island, sending thousands of Inferi scattering and burning as great fireballs carved huge swathes in their ranks, immolating hundreds of Inferi at any one time.

Voldemort chuckled grimly. The sinister laugh echoed in the chamber. Harry winced, and tried to keep his wand arm steady. His hands were sweaty, cold and clammy.

"I knew you would come prepared. You always had formidable allies, Potter. But without Dumbledore by your side, do you think you can conquer me?"

Voldemort turned, as fast as a snake's strike, and sent the Killing Curse straight at Harry's face.

But Harry was prepared, and ducked, sending back a series of spells which Voldemort deflected calmly and almost nonchalantly. Then the battle between the heirs of Gryffindor and Slytherin began.

Albania.

0646 hours.

They had fought their way onto the castle drawbridge. Outside, more trolls and Dark creatures assaulted the fortress, but Ron and the others held them off at the bridge.

Madame Maxime gasped, as a Death Eater broke through her escort, killing one of her students and severely wounding herself. Hagrid despatched him with a great blow from his traditional giant's war-club that seemed to cleave the Death Eater's head in two.

Then Hagrid was beside her, supporting her, as she tried to get up. Both half-giants bled from countless wounds, yet they still fought on.

"Go…go…get in the castle. I'll hold zem off." She gestured at her students, who were also haggard and worn from battle fatigue. One had a great gash on his shoulder.

A Beauxbatons professor Hagrid knew only as Pierre lingered. "Maxime!" he cried.

Madame Maxime – Olympe, as Hagrid knew her best – sighed. "Mon ami! Go!" she shouted.

Hagrid turned, and shot an arrow into the heart of a werewolf. He loaded another one into his crossbow, and grinned. "Luckily ah use silver for the arrowheads." He fired the next arrow into a vampire.

The Dark creature screeched and shrivelled up. Hagrid fitted another arrow into his crossbow. "And a pinch of garlic too," he murmured.

Then, as the trolls began bearing down on the two giants – they were not more than a hundred meters away – he swept Olympe into his arms, carrying her into the castle foyer.

"Sacre bleu, this would be romantic if not for ze enemies!" she muttered.

"Still plenty of time fer that on yer honeymoon," Hagrid replied, and she sighed.

"Even a giantess can dream, non?"

Hagrid cocked an eyebrow. "So yer finally admitted it?"

They paused at the foyer as Hagrid held Olympe one-handed and fired his crossbow with the other. Another vamp shrivelled up, and the others shrank back in fear.

Then, Hagrid set her down in the middle of the floor, and grinned. "What a team we wouldda make."

They turned back to the doorway, Madame Maxime firing spells rapid-fire at the Dark creatures crowding over the threshold and Hagrid coolly picking off the harder-to-kill ones, like vampires and werewolves.

Main Tower,

Azkaban.

0721 hours.

Harry dodged a series of green sparks, and fired back. One lucky hit scratched Voldemort on the arm, but he quickly healed himself.

"Nicks and cuts will not stop the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, Potter!" he hissed. A wave of his wand, and the ugly gargoyles adorning the walls sprang to life.

Harry shot them down with Stunners and Reductors, and the last one was smashed by a volley of spells from Voldemort.

Another series of Stunners and jinxes were blocked and deflected by Voldemort, and Harry wondered when Hermione would destroy the final Horcrux and allow him to do the 'Avada' on Voldemort.

Albania.

0733 hours.

Hermione muttered an incantation, and drew a Circle of Power in the dusty floor of the room. In the center of the Circle of Power lay the cauldron-Horcrux, undisturbed ever since Ginny had found it in the center of the room.

Scattered around the room were the shrivelled bodies of vampires and bloody rag heaps that showed where trolls, ogres and werewolves had fought to the last in a futile attempt to defend the final Horcrux.

Slowly, Hermione drew the relevant rune diagrams into the floor, and each diagram glowed for a moment, as Hermione chanted its' name. Then she took the appropriate rune out of her pocket, and placed it on its' place, drawn upon the floor.

"Remember, ehwaz is defence, eihwaz is partnership," murmured Ron. Hermione shot him a glare as she continued drawing runes and chanting the spell that would empower them with the force necessary to destroy the Horcrux.

"Thank Merlin for Arithmancy classes," said Ginny.

Finally, Hermione finished. She looked around at Ron and Ginny. Neville, Dean, Seamus and Luna took up guard outside the door. Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown flanked the walls.

"Let's do it."

Chapter 5: Horcrux Sux

Azkaban Beach.

0756 hours.

Remus Lupin swore to himself as he battled an advancing troll – who was wielding a silver-tipped war club. He knew it would be death for him if the troll even touched him with the silver spikes.

Lunging forward, he ducked under the troll's blow and slashed blindly with a spell at his legs. The troll screamed, and Lupin saw that the troll's feet had been neatly severed. He put the beast out of it's misery, hardening his heart as he lopped off the troll's head.

Then, as the tide of battle ebbed and rose, he found himself back to back with a Frenchman, who he recognised as a chaplain in a London church.

"Pastor, what are you doing on a battlefield?" he asked, grinning.

"Mes enfants, je ne puis cous laisser partir sans aumonier dans cet enfer," came back the reply. (My children, I cannot let you sail into this hell without a chaplain).

Then the Frenchman let loose a barrage of spells that blasted the war-club from an advancing troll preparing to batter a bloodied Auror to pulp, chopping off the Dark creature's arms and then smashing in its' skull.

The Auror got up, and Lupin saw that it was Moody.

"Thanks, bud." Then he cracked a grim smile at Lupin. "Damn sky-pilot's got some guts!"

Then the three spun around as another wave of giants and ogres charged the advancing army.

Albania.

At that same moment.

A jet of red shot from the wand-tips, as Ron, Ginny and Hermione fired a stream of pure energy at the Horcrux. The runes glowed, and became brighter and brighter as more energy poured into the Circle of Power.

Hermione, Ginny and Bill, working together, had finally come up with a way to destroy the Horcruxes. Each Horcrux has a different and characteristic weakness, depending on the nature of the object.

For the locket-Horcrux, all they ever found was fragments, for Regulus Alphard Black really had destroyed the Horcrux before dying. Dumbledore had destroyed another, and Ravenclaw's spectacles had been smashed by a series of powerful Reductors (aided by powerful runes) through the lenses.

Hufflepuff's cup had been Portkeyed into the very center of the earth. It had been melted down there, and the residue eaten away by the hot magma. Nagini had been forced into the veiled archway where Sirius had died, when the great snake had tried to sneak into the Ministry and steal secrets. It had gotten itself cornered instead.

But the snake Nagini was not the Horcrux. For there were seven, including Voldemort himself, and these were Slytherin's ring, Hufflepuff's cup, Ravenclaw's spectacles, the locket that Regulus Alphard Black had destroyed, the diary Harry had destroyed, and the final, unknown Horcrux.

That left Voldemort himself and the final Horcrux. The Cauldron. This Horcrux's special attributes was the ability to actually suck the life-energy of living creatures. Preferably humans. And the way to destroy it was to let it soak up so much energy that it actually combusted itself.

Ron swore as the cauldron began sucking up the runes' power. The marks glowed brighter, and the coin-shaped objects floated up into the air, six feet above the ground.

The glow grew brighter, and brighter.

"I hope this works," said Hermione.

"It should…theoretically," said Ginny, wincing at her own words.

"You mean you don't know!" said Ron.

"Er…it will work…technically."

Hermione groaned.

Main Tower,

Azkaban.

0804 hours.

Harry groaned as a spell shot into his Shield Charm, rupturing the defensive bubble and blasting into him. An unbelievable pain shot through his body, and his wand spun away into a corner. Two ribs crackled agonizingly as Harry put a hand to his side, and he knew that they were busted.

Wand smoking, Voldemort glided across the floor, face twisted in unholy glee. "No baby-sitting Albus to help you now, Potter. This time, I finish what I started all those years ago."

"Oh yeah," shouted Harry defiantly. "What about your Horcruxes? Down to two. We'll get the last one, I swear!"

Voldemort smiled thinly, cruelly. "Smart, clever Potter. Always anticipating me. Let me see what's in your mind…ah! Fully-fledged Occlumens, eh? I'll bet your Mudblood companion helped you with that."

Harry felt the familiar, tugging feeling in his brain, and a stab of pain shot through his forehead.

"Goodbye, Potter."

Voldemort raised his wand, aimed straight at Harry.

"Avada…" Harry winced, and closed his eyes. He would never see Ginny again…

"…Keda…ahh!"

Then came a clinking sound Harry recognized as a wand dropping to the floor. He opened an eye, and saw Voldemort put a hand to his chest.

"Ahhh…no…NO!"

Albania

That very second.

The cauldron was beginning to suck the life-essence from Hermione, Ginny and Ron. One by one, the runes burst, showering them with splinters of rock. Hermione groaned, and the cauldron issued a deep-throated, sinister cackle that echoed around the room.

Then, the cackle turned to a shriek. Ron winced, and Hermione shut her eyes.

"Ahhh…no…NO!"

Down in the courtyard of the castle, Madame Maxime and Hagrid looked up at the tower. A flash of light shot out from the windows, forming into a coherent bolt of energy, and it zoomed off westwards.

Hagrid and Olympe looked at each other. "Harry," they said in unison.

Azkaban Beach.

Mere seconds later.

Of the thousands who had landed on the island, less than three hundred remained. The goblins had been decimated; only the Warlocks were left alive. The centaurs had suffered frightfully, with only ten or eleven of the best left.

A single surviving giant fought on the side of the Light; the dragons suffered from excruciating wounds. But the ones who had suffered the most were the humans.

The last survivors – mostly Order members and Aurors – were huddled together, awaiting their doom. Around them, Death Eaters, trolls, ogres, giants, vampires, werewolves, Inferi, minotaurs, satyrs and assorted Dark creatures began closing in, sensing victory.

Then, Remus Lupin, battered, bloody and bruised, turned around. His sharp ears picked up a faint sound…

"Look!"

The bolt of light buzzed in from the east, soaring to the main tower of Azkaban Prison, flying into the tower room.

Seconds later, a bellow of agony swept the battlefield.

Cell Fifteen.

0805 hours.

Justin limped over to the window, and peeked through the crack. He could see the scene on the beach, and tears wet his cheeks.

Then he saw the bolt of light coming in from the east, and heard the shriek of agony.

Grinning, he turned to Susan, Gabrielle and the Creeveys.

"Be happy, comrades. This is Voldemort's dying day."

Then Justin stared up at the ceiling.

"Get him, Harry," he whispered.

Main Tower,

Azkaban.

The bolt of light-energy struck Voldemort in the small of the back, and he screamed in fear and pain. The last Horcrux had been destroyed.

Harry's eyes met Voldemort's for a second, and the heirs of Slytherin and Gryffindor stared at each other. Triumph spread over Harry's face, and fear on Voldemort's.

"Accio wand!" Harry stretched out his hand.

With a snap of his fingers, Voldemort's wand returned to its' owner's hand.

"Accio Firebolt!"

The broom came flying the window as Voldemort's first few spells struck empty air, Harry Apparating onto the broom.

Voldemort growled, and unleashed a wave of Dark energy that slammed into the walls, and burst the roof of the tower outwards and upwards, shattering the masonry and woodwork into dust. Harry was far away by now, but Voldemort threw great pieces of marble and granite at the small speck up in the air.

Wind whipped through Harry's hair as he shot upwards at maximum speed. Stones and boulders flung upwards were becoming a flying hazard, but Harry grinned.

"Just like playing Bludgers," he said to himself, more to instill courage in himself than for any other reason.

He dodged a huge slab of marble, blasted three smaller pieces out of the way and then he heard a whooshing sound…

Harry ducked in time, and the Avada missed him, but three more were already on the way. Harry ducked again as a jet of green sparks zipped past…

He whirled around the second, dodged the third, and let off a series of his own Stunners. Below him, he saw Voldemort dodge the rain of spells and unleash a huge wave of energy sweeping upwards.

Harry dodged this easily, but a fireball hidden under the wave nearly burned him, and singed the twigs of his Firebolt. Harry put out the flames and renewed his barrage of Stunners, which Voldemort either blocked or dodged with ease.

Albania.

Hagrid fitted his last arrow into the crossbow. He was running out of ammunition. He looked around, at the bloodied and weary Frenchmen and women gathered in the entrance foyer, girding themselves for their last stand.

Olympe growled as the trolls and ogres prepared to make their final rush.

Hagrid reached over and gave her a giant kiss.

Azkaban Beach.

Firenze turned, and stabbed a troll deep in the stomach. The Dark creature howled, and collapsed on the ground, dead.

Bruised and bloodied, Firenze looked around, healing his wounds with the centaur branch of magic. The Aurors were holding out, merely wounding the enemy severely now and letting the human younglings tear them apart.

A flash of movement caught his eye; sunlight reflected off silver. Remus Lupin was on the ground, with the traitor Pettigrew closing the distance with outstretched wand and silver hand.

Firenze spun his great spear and galloped towards the werewolf, but a trio of giants barred his path, thundering down on him with clubs, maces and axes at the ready.

Bellowing, he chopped a giant's hand off at the wrist, trying to get free and help Lupin; but he couldn't as he himself was being forced backwards with every blow.

Cell 15.

Justin watched the battle grimly, knowing that the worst was over but the war was far from won. All he worried for now was that the surviving Death Eaters would come in to kill the prisoners. Not that he feared for his life, no…not when the name of Finch-Fletchley was already tainted beyond all measure.

No, he feared for the girls and the Creeveys. They had nothing to do with this, nothing at all…they were all just live bait.

Footsteps sounded down the corridor, and Justin's heart fell, falling to a level about somewhere beneath his feet.

A muttered swear-word, and the rattle of keys. The guard inserted his key into the cell padlock…

Softly, Justin stole to the side of the wall next to the door, a little blind spot where the guard wouldn't see him after stepping in. On the other side, Colin Creevey did the same.

The cell door swung open, blocking Colin from view.

A Death Eater stepped through, scanning the room.

"Hey! Where's the two males!"

Colin tapped gently on the door. The guard swung round.

"H-Hey!" The wand swung up, pointing at Colin.

Justin leapt up, and landed a hard kick in the small of the Death Eater's back with all his indignation and anger at the brutal treatment his team had received. The man dropped his wand, bellowed with pain. There was the satisfying crack of a fractured rib.

Colin stepped forward, kicking him in the groin. The man wheezed, and sank to the ground.

Justin picked up the wand, and pointed it at the man.

"Incarcerous!" Thick, heavy ropes flew out of the wand-tip, wrapping around the man and binding him tightly as the Death Eater moaned. "Stupefy!"

Then he looked up at Colin. "Thanks."

Colin stared back at him, eyes black and beady with anger. "I didn't do it to help you. I want you to survive this damned war and face charges in front of the Wizengamot for treachery and cowardice. Even murder if I can get it."

For a few moments the fighting had blotted the sense of guilt from Justin's mind. Now, his comrade's bitter words brought it back in a fresh wave of guilt. His nightmare returned, as he realized that his friends and comrades in arms were still being slaughtered outside.

Justin was a simple man; he could find no words to express to Colin that which burned in his tormented soul. And he couldn't risk telling Colin about the team in Albania, fearing that Hermione, Ron and his other compatriots there might be captured.

So he grinned instead, although he was crying in his heart for the lives that had been devastated just to plant a piece of disinformation into the ranks of Death Eaters.

"Save it for the inquest. Let's go."

Justin began to move, but then he paused. Raising the captured wand in the air, he muttered, "Accio wands!"

Presently five wands soared through the air, Justin's among them. The wands stopped in front of their owners, and he plucked his out of the air. Colin grabbed at his, and Susan hesitantly took hers.

Justin made sure Susan, Colin, Gabrielle and Dennis had the correct wands, and then gestured to the door.

"We have to get out of here and rejoin the others. That way, we can at least help them or something."

Main Tower,

Azkaban.

1205 hours.

Voldemort sent a great big fireball up in the sky towards Harry, and Harry blocked with a giant shield.

The sun came out of the cloudy sky suddenly, shining full on Voldemort's face. The Dark Lord staggered, holding up a hand to block out the rays.

The magical fireball was deflected back down, and, blinded by the sun, Voldemort was struck down as the giant ball of flame crashed into his body.

Harry swooped down, straining to see what had happened to Voldemort.

As the smoke cleared, Harry could see flames eating at what was left of the tower, fuelled by the wooden framework. Lying amongst the flames was a half-naked body, with the remnants of a robe wrapped around it.

Harry landed on the tower, which now resembled a helicopter platform as most of it had been demolished by the battle. He strode forward through the flames, wand outstretched.

Voldemort was lying on the floor, his body steaming. Harry saw that his body had become skeletal, a thin layer of skin stretched over the frame, and grimaced. The stench of burning flesh was everywhere, and he realized that the Dark Lord was burning.

As Harry stood over him, he seemed to awake and stared up at Harry. His wand was nowhere in sight, probably having been burned up.

"Potter…kill…me…pleeease."

Harry closed his eyes, wand pointed at Voldemort. Here it was. The moment he'd dreamt of for the best part of his wizarding life, and then dreaded for the rest of it.

"Avada…"

A lump caught in his throat. So Harry Potter would really become a murderer, he though. What a nice example to all the little wizard kids all over the world. The Boy-Who-Killed. He wished there would be some way to imprison Voldemort without having to turn Harry James Potter into a murderer.

But deep down in his heart, he knew that he would have to do it. And he felt the eyes of the world on him now. He felt the eyes of those who had died that this crazy plan would work. And he felt the eyes of those who had been killed by Voldemort.

He felt his parents, Bertha Jorkins, Cedric Diggory, Sirius, Dumbledore, everybody who had died over the past few years because of Voldemort. They were all urging him on, telling him not to choose the easy way but to choose the right way.

"…Kedavra."

If his eyes had been open, or not filled with tears, he would have seen Voldemort close his eyes, sigh, and die.

Azkaban Beach.

1206 hours.

For a moment, all battle was stopped. Peter Pettigrew still held Lupin by the neck, gripping hard with his silver hand, although his attention was focused on the tower.

The fireball crashed into the tower, and seconds later they saw Harry land on the tower.

Then, just as the suspense began mounting, a jet of red and gold sparks shot from the tower, along with a glowing shield that showed the Hogwarts Crest; the prearranged signal that proclaimed that Voldemort was dead.

Peter Pettigrew turned back to his prey, intent on killing the last of the good Marauders, but faced instead a quivering wand tip at his neck.

Lupin's memory would fail him at this time, and he wouldn't remember saying this until weeks later.

"Eat shit and die, Wormtail. Avada Kedavra!"

The red blast that issued from Lupin's wand threw Wormtail back, his lifeless rag-doll body smashing against a boulder.

Lupin staggered, and even as he knew Harry had succeeded he choked up a gush of blood. The silver had seeped into his bloodstream, and was killing him slowly.

Nymphadora Tonks rushed up to him, and helped him up.

"We've won, Remus. We've won."

He groaned, and nodded. "Yes…yes, I know. I'm dying, Nymph."

Tears trickled down her cheeks. "No. We'll get you to St. Mungo's. Here."

She pointed her wand at a nearby stone, muttered "Portus." Shoving it into Lupin's hand, she stifled a sob. "One… two… three."

The Dark forces were routed, as the army of the Light pursued them and began to hunt them down. The Albania team had come, reinforcing Dumbledore's Army as the wounded began to be evacuated back to St. Mungo's. The Dark troops scattered, and were easily crushed as the might of the Light flung itself on the enemy.

Chapter 6: Aftermath

News of Voldemort's death seemed to spread all over the world within seconds. In China, Chinese wizards and Aurors struck, flinging themselves on the ever-present Dark forces and routed them.

In Albania and the east European countries, the Dark strongholds and fortresses were shattered as armies of Light troops rose up and crushed the enemy, who were utterly demoralized by Voldemort's death.

Spain, France, Australia, the war-torn countries of the Middle East, Africa, Central and South America, all fell before the fully unleashed strength of the Light. And the armies of the Light carried the day, routing all Dark troops they faced with minimal loss.

But they owed their success to the brave wizards and witches of the United Kingdom, who had crushed the most powerful Dark Lord of all time, decimating the Dark armies in the process. Although the war continued for two more years, hunting down the remaining Death Eaters, all wizarding nations acknowledged the UK's role in smashing the center of the Dark army.

And these, in turn, owed their success to the sacrifice of Team Twenty-Eight, without which Mr. Weasley's plan would never have been implemented, the final Horcrux wouldn't have been destroyed, and Harry Potter would not have been able to kill the Dark Lord Voldemort.

–Professor Hermione Weasley, during a History of Magic lesson at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry–

Azkaban Beach.

As the battle faded into the jungle, the Light army pursuing the demoralized trolls and ogres which made up the remainder of the Dark army on Azkaban, Ronald Bilius Weasley strode over the battlefield, leading behind him the Albania team.

There was a tearful reunion as Ginny Weasley ran into Harry's arms, who caught her in a tight, loving embrace.

Ron pretended not to notice, although his face looked like McGonagall's would after hearing a dirty swear word.

"Where's Lupin?" he asked.

"Silver poisoning. Pettigrew got him round the neck with that damned hand of his," said Tonks. "He'll be okay though, but he killed Wormtail before losing consciousness. Probably saved his life."

Harry released Ginny to look at Ron. "Damn. Pity that Pettigrew died."

"What, you wanted him to live for telling us about the Horcrux?" asked Tonks incredulously.

"No, I wanted to kill the bastard myself."

A dusty, bloodied figure limped through the smoke wreathing the battlefield, leading four other people behind him who seemed equally bloodied and shocked. Everybody stared at the man in surprise, before clamouring around him.

Justin Finch-Fletchley stepped up to his leader, wincing at the sight of all the dead bodies around him. Some of the dead seemed agonizingly young, and he stared at Ron, then glanced at the bodies, leading Ron's gaze deliberately to the dead men.

"It had to be done, Justin. It was the only way. And good job. I'm recommending Order of Merlin, First Class. We've won the war, anyhow."

Words of praise could not pour balm on Justin's soul. Hardened though Ron was to the horror of war, he felt an overwhelming pity for the man before him.

"They're dead, Ron," he rasped. "They're dead, and they trusted you and me. Why did we have to do it this way?"

And he turned, not caring for any more words from his leader.

Colin stepped forwards, wand pointed menacingly at Justin's back. "Stop, you bloody murderer, or I'll kill you myself!" There was a note of hysteria in his voice, but Justin paid him no mind. The man disappeared into the jungles of Azkaban, going no one knew where.

Ron stepped forward, and held the young man's arm. "You don't understand, lad." He pointed up at the burning tower. "Up there, Voldemort lies dead, because Justin made sure the last Horcrux would be destroyed, and that Harry would get to the tower to kill Voldemort. He did his job, Colin. He obeyed orders!"

Colin stood on the beach, rooted in shock. Then he ran after the receding figure in the distance.

Azkaban Jungle.

Justin Finch-Fletchley wandered into the jungle surrounding the castle, trying to help smash the last of the Dark troops on Azkaban and meet his death, for he didn't want to live anymore.

Not after causing all those deaths.

He met and defeated three ogres, killing them but he didn't die.

Suddenly, he staggered, leaned against a tree and collapsed. He put a hand to his mouth and saw that he was bleeding, probably from the last fight with the ogres. One of their clubs had smashed into his body, and he recognized the signs of internal hemorrhaging.

He smiled, willing himself to die quickly.

Colin's face appeared by his side, shaking him. The man was crying.

"Please, Justin. I didn't mean for this to happen. I'm…I'm sorry, Justin. Come on."

Despite his protests, Colin heaved him across his shoulders and staggered back to the beach, where they would be able to get him back to St. Mungo's.

But on his back, the unsung hero of the hour was losing consciousness. The last thing Justin saw before closing his eyes was a blackness that soon enveloped him.

Chapter 7: Epilogue

Although terribly injured, Justin Finch-Fletchley did not die, but never did recover fully from the injuries he received in captivity. Team Twenty-Eight received the Order of Merlin, First Class but Mr. Finch-Fletchley didn't derive much comfort from it. He never married, but he was happy to be with his childhood friends, working as a Healer at St. Mungo's Hospital until he died at the age of fifty-seven.

Colin Creevey went on to be a successful Auror, and was greatly respected by the men and women he led. But then again, he had learned to bear the burden of command the hard way.

The rest of Team Twenty-Eight recovered from the incident, and apologized to Mr. Finch-Fletchley for labeling him as a traitor and beating him up during their incarceration at Azkaban. Susan Bones went on to be a successful Healer, Gabrielle Fleur is currently the French Representative in the Ministry of Magic's Foreign Department, and Dennis Creevey is a rising young Curse Breaker for Gringotts Bank.

I'll want an 8-foot essay on the Great Wizarding War and the deciding factors of the war, including Team Twenty-Eight's sacrifice and the brave Aurors who led the attack on Azkaban. Lily Ginevra Potter, please do not send in more than three feet extra for this essay. James Potter, do not tease your sister. Class dismissed.

–Professor Hermione Weasley, concluding a History of Magic lesson at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry–