A/N- Well these two weeks went by fast right? Oh wait, I wasn't waiting on an update…I apologize for those of you I told that I'd have it up on July 4…and then July 7...

Anyways, I need to give a special thanks to ArnoldDevillena for help on this chapter and the remaining ones as well. So give most of the plot credit to them.

Disclaimer: I don't own it.


Chapter 12- Hold the Line

July 30th, 1996

Amelia had always been a hopeless romantic. Her personal bookshelf in her room was home to many a cheesy romance novel. In her free time, what little of it she had, she could often be found reading said books with glee. Most of the books had the same plot: a woman snatches up a handsome but unperceptive man.

Never in any of the books she had read, had the woman cheated, not even entertained the thought of cheating. Yet it was in this moment that she realized that her life, which had taken a turn towards the novels, was no longer.


The First World War was horrible to all parties involved. While not as dramatized as its successor, it was much worse for those who fought. The world had never seen a war of this scale; perhaps the world just wasn't ready.

Most muggles believe that the war began because of complex alliances and Austro-Hungarian imperialism. To that, they are correct. But wizardkind also fought the First World War, to protect not only themselves, but the muggles as well.

It is impossible to be a wizard and not know of Gellert Grindlewald. Back then, few did know of him, but the ones that did were high in the government.

He began his movement in his home country of Austria-Hungary. They were at first reluctant to do so, but when Prince Ferdinand, the Crown Prince of the country and fellow wizard, was killed by muggles, the war ignited.

German, Italian, Austro-Hungarian, Bulgarian, and Ottoman wizards went to war against British, French, Russian, Greek, and Serbian wizards. Wizarding Italy did not change sides like the muggles, despite the urgings of the British and French dignitaries.

The wizarding war was even more horrible than the muggle war. Forty percent of Europe's magical population was killed. Entrenchments were rarely used as the war was primarily a series of attacks between the two sides.

Engagements were fought mostly out of muggle sight in the mountains of Austria and the Balkans and the lightly populated regions of southern France. When Spain was brought into the war on the side of Grindelwald in 1915, the pressure on the Allies was almost unbearable. They were simply outnumbered in every conceivable way.

Meanwhile, Grindelwald decided it was more important to destroy the opposing wizards instead of the hated muggles, so while there were a few hundred unexplained muggle deaths in Austria, Germany, and Italy, they were mostly unmolested in their war efforts.

In Bulgaria and Spain, however, the slaughter was magnificently horrible. Bulgaria's armies were so hindered by their wizards that the did little to effect the muggle war effort. In Spain, so many muggles were slaughtered that the muggles very nearly discovered wizardkind; the Spanish wizards were forced to annihilate every member of the Spanish Intelligence Department.

In any case, back to the war effort. Commanding the small Pyrenees Command in Southern France was a young Wizengamot member. He might've been sent with the main Allied Wizard Expedition Force in the Balkans had he not have been cast out of his family just weeks before for supporting the war. As it was, the youthful Arcturus Black, of only fourteen years of age, found himself in command of a force that was facing the full might of the Spanish force.

It was at Perpignan that his force of about 1,000 wizards, approximately 650 French and 350 British, faced down the hoards of Spaniards. The Spanish were incompetent, their minds were full of glories of the past and their training was outdated; most sources agree that they were not even familiar with the killing curse.

It did not make the victory any less. The Spanish charged and were thoroughly throttled and demoralised. Black proved to be ruthless and pursued the Spaniards into their own country and crushed them soundly at the, if I may, stalely-named Battle of the Pyrenees.

These victories single-handedly took Spain out of the war, though the Spaniards would continue to prey upon the muggles and were probably a large factor in causing the Spanish Civil War in the late 1930s.

Heavily reinforced, Black led the command into Italy, fighting a string of battles in late 1915 and capturing the Italian magical capital south of Naples in 1916.

Noticing his success, the Allied High Command transferred him to the Serbian theatre, where he was unable to fix the situation, but he was able to successfully evade the army's complete destruction. He was, however, able to score a brilliant victory in the largest magical battle ever fought with over 40,000 wizards engaged at Thessaloniki.

Finally, the Allies had a general who could win. In the final stages of the war, Black led a handpicked army (his memoirs prove that he was nothing if not precise) against Grindelwald's fortress in the mountains of Austria. It is said that Black dueled Grindelwald in a battle of the ages.

Whatever the case may have been, it is certain that Black truly won the war and ended the most brutal war the wizarding world had ever seen. Over 48,000 wizards had been killed in the war and that again were physically scarred by it. For many, the mental scars would last long after they went home.

As for Black, he went home a hero. Some were blinded enough to call him the second Merlin. Whatever he may have been, when he arrived he was immediately reinstated into the Black family and became a political nightmare, his strategic mind being put to use in other efforts.

The search for Grindelwald did not last long. Even if it had, it is doubtful they would've found him. Holed up in Nuremberg, Grindelwald began to recruit...

Harry shook his head as the book he had read earlier persisted in his mind. Now was certainly not the time. The enemy had effectively and easily brought down Hogwarts's wards and they were moving quickly into the valley that was directly across from them.

There were two ways into Hogwarts. A bridge on the north side and the overland route from Hogsmeade from the south side. Obviously, Voldemort was concentrating against the bridge and possibly both. But they were ready. Harry was ready, or so he thought.

He'd dutifully helped the aurors clean up the Atrium after the battle; it was being styled, quite dully as wizards tend to do, The Battle of the Ministry. It had taken him and the exhausted aurors and hitwizards two hours to clean it up.

The first bombshell of the morning fell then, when Hermione near bounded up to him and told him of the prophecy. To be honest, he really should've expected it, it did sort of make sense. Voldemort had done everything in his power since the day he was born to kill him. She didn't know what the words were, but he had a feeling that he wouldn't like it.

With the help of Shacklebolt, as this was an important development, they'd tracked down the prophecy in the Prophecy Records. Now he'd have to kill his father, if he could. It didn't bother him in the least. He was a horrible man and a sorry excuse for a person. The problem was that he had over forty years of magical education against him. True, he seemed to be equal with most of the Inner Circle, but Harry had a feeling his father was much more powerful.

The Tonks had been nice enough to allow him a room to stay the night. When they had came through the floo and Andromeda had heard the story, she was utterly furious, despite Harry's defence of his wife's actions. The elder Tonks' lived in a nice apartment in the middle of London and they fortunately had a spare bedroom.

He woke up to have the second bombshell thrown in his face by the junior Tonks. The morning edition of the Daily Prophet came every morning at eight o'clock. While usually only showing useless rumours, this morning's front page was not. Apparently, they had proof that Voldemort planned to attack Hogwarts, that day.

Truth or not, a rumour like that could not simply be brushed aside. A small force of aurors probed forward from the school and found the enemy not lurking far away, and in heavy force. Thus, Shacklebolt, temporary head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement as Amelia had yet to be reached, had called together everyone he could: Aurors, Hit-wizards, Unspeakables, Reserves, the Order, and with Harry's recommendation, the Legion.

Thousands answered the call and the floo connection soon became choked with the amount of people attempting to floo into the Headmaster's office.

Many were confidant. "This many aurors for a tiny death eater raid!?" Harry heard one particularly idiotic bloke say, "I knew the department was scared, but this is ridiculous!" He left his comrades to floo home.

Many others were not as confidant. When it seemed that the Leader of the Light, Albus Dumbledore, had fled before Voldemort, a handful of those with less courage fled. To those sheep, without Dumbledore, all was already lost. That was a mere trickle when the mighty host of Voldemort's army became visible from across the Black Lake.

By his estimate it didn't matter, they would've been outnumbered either way. His dreams about Voldemort were infrequent at best, but at Azkaban, Harry had seen numerous delegations succeed in bringing numerous tribes of dark creatures into alliance with him. Add that with the majority of the pureblood population of Britain, half of Slytherin house, half of Durmstrang's students, and thousands of magical mercenaries from around the world and Harry didn't doubt that it was the largest military force magical Britain had ever seen.

Those that remained would hold the line. They had to.

Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head of the Auror Office, arrived and at the insistence of Shacklebolt, sent him with about a third of the force to Hogsmeade.

Scrimgeour seemed to lack the notions of most others of using schoolchildren on the frontlines. In his words: "If they've a wand, they can fight. We cannot afford to be moralistic in times as dark as these."

Organisation had pretty much went out of the window and Harry decided that it would be best if he joined Shacklebolt in Hogsmeade. There was only one way across the Black Lake that Voldemort could possibly take: the bridge. Voldemort's best option was to go round the flank and attack Hogwarts in the rear through Hogsmeade.

Having been one of the earlier arrivals that morning, he had already assisted in moving the residents of Hogsmeade into the castle and the town that they prepared to defend was a ghost town.

Shacklebolt gave him command of the right flank with two platoons of legionnaires and another of hitwizards. While he knew Shacklebolt meant no disrespect, the left was traditionally the side where the less-experienced and less-important troops fought. Therefore, placing him on the right would mean he would also come up against the weaker death eaters.

The second-in-command of the Auror Office had given young Harry quite the challenge though. With only three platoons, two of which had been used rather roughly, he had barely a tenth of the total force, yet a third of the ground to cover.

Harry looked nervously at the watch of one of the hitwizards. So little had happened and yet so much time had passed. It was already three o'clock in the afternoon and he was exhausted. He was about to fight his second battle in twenty-four hours with only a few hours of sleep. Bloody grand.

It was hard to believe that the Battle of the Ministry had happened only that morning. Susan had died fourteen hours ago. He remembered how he'd comforted her after the loss of her friends. How he'd told her that he was sure the war would end before she knew it. He had been all too literal in that statement.


Minerva McGonagall watched as many of the statues for the school's defence were carelessly thrown to the side as if they were ragdolls. Many of the giants had fallen as well, but other magical creatures and death eaters took their place. They'd be over the bridge in moments. Where was Dumbledore?

"Professor McGonagall!"

She turned to see two of her favourite students from past years. Both had made quite a name for themselves. "Madam Bones, Mister Black, what can I help you with?"

She could not keep the anxiety from her voice. She was not keen on dying, despite being over sixty years of age.

She scolded herself for her choices in the past. She'd waited too long and both of the men she had loved were dead. She should have had children, multitudes of them, but she'd been barmy. So she'd adapted. The children of Hogwarts were now her children. No, she did not want to die, but like any mother, she would die for any of her children.

She blinked as she realized they'd just been speaking to her. "I'm sorry, what did you say?"

Amelia looked absolutely furious, but Sirius took a deep breath and spoke again: "Have you seen Harry?"

"Harry? Harry Potter?" she gasped. "No I haven't seen him since...well, I'm sure you remember, Mister Black," she finished with a glare.

She'd been insistent from the beginning that Harry could never do something like that, but it seemed that her voice was not enough to persuade anyone, not even his own godfather.

Sirius had the decency to look down. McGonagall was still ashamed. She had raised him better than this.

"Not Harry Potter. His name is Herakles Black; goes by Harry for short," Amelia interjected. "He's about medium height with black hair and violet eyes."

McGonagall was suspicious; another Black?

"Minerva!" someone called. She glanced out of the corner of her eye and saw Scrimgeour. "We need everyone to help hold the bridge."

McGonagall nodded solemnly; she was certain that her time on this earth was up. Turning back to her children, she told them, "I haven't seen him around here, but he could be in Hogsmeade."

She rushed to the bridge, knowing that she would not survive to see her children again.


Amelia had a feeling that Harry was in Hogsmeade. She wanted to go to him; no, needed to. But she imagined that he'd want to stay very far away from them.

But looking at the situation, she was obviously needed more here. Scrimgeour might be a tough, experienced soldier, but he had never been the best at strategy, or even really, fighting. The aurors and various soldiers were disorganised and desperate for a leader to take charge.

A pop next to her startled her out of her thoughts. A small house elf, one of the smallest she had ever witnessed, appeared next to her. Its rags hung around its small frame as it peered nervously up at Amelia.

"Master Harry asks Dobby to give this to you."

Amelia snatched it out of the poor elf's hands, startling it so much it popped away. It was a piece of parchment perhaps, folded in half. She opened it violently, knowing it was from her Harry, and ripped the page a little.

What she saw, however, made her drop to her knees.

Sirius quickly rushed to her. "What's wrong!?"

She sullenly handed Sirius the paper and he gasped. It was the second page of this morning's Daily Prophet with all the horrible information that it entailed...and Harry's wedding ring.

Amelia turned on Sirius. "Go to Hogsmeade and find Harry. Bring him to me."

Sirius, though still depressed, replied with a bit of sass, "Why do I have to go get him!?"

Amelia pointed to the Hogwarts side of the bridge, where an explosion landed right in the middle of a group of hitwizards, blowing them in every direction. "That's why. Make sure Harry doesn't do anything stupid. Bring him back to me. I'll take care of this."

Amelia strode off to the battlefield, her expression hardening with every step. This was it, Voldemort's final play. If they didn't stop him here, it was over. 'Harry, please come back to me...'

She couldn't let the dream come to fruition...

At first, she hadn't thought it was a real dream. Susan was dead. And yet, she was standing right in front of her. And she looked pissed. As pissed as only a Bones could be pissed.

"Susan?" Amelia gasped. She didn't hope to dare believe, but...

They embraced but Susan did not unstiffen as she usually did. "Auntie, what have you done?" she whispered horrified.

Amelia broke the embrace and took a step back. "You expect me to forgive him? After what he did to you?"

Now Susan's expression was horrified. "Auntie...he loves you! What happened to me was because of my own insistence to fight!" Her voice became shriller and shriller as she became more upset.

"Susan! How could he love me when he's taken you from me? He promised with his life that he would never let you die. He lied!"

Susan shook her head. Her aunt was a stubborn one, that was for sure, but Death had told her to use any means necessary. Even the ability to show the future.

"Look here, auntie," she said as she waved her hand and a screen shimmered into existence.

Amelia had little time to ponder how Susan had gained the power of Conjury, as she looked upon the scene. Several death eaters lay dead nearby and it seemed that the battle had been won. Bellatrix was dead also, presumably by Amelia's wand. Voldemort and Dumbledore were both dead, but Harry's body lay broken and bloody as she and Sirius cradled him in their arms.

"Amelia," he spoke with a hint of a pained smile. "I'm sorry I wasn't the husband you deserved."

Turning to Sirius, he laughed weakly, "Good catch, Sirius. Treat her right."

And then realising that his time was up, he said to both, "I love you."

And he was gone. The screen passed out of existence.

"What...?"

"Auntie this is not a 'what if.' If you do not stray from the path that you and Sirius are walking, it will happen."

A gust of wind blew and Susan turned into sand. Amelia called out, but she was gone and she had found herself awake next to the man she didn't love.

Sirius had had a similar dream it seemed, and they searched every possible place. He wasn't in the manor or the Ministry of which the Auror Office was empty. Apparating to the Tonks' apartment provided no answers, until Amelia decided to break in, and found the couch made up.

It was already quite late in the day by that point; a little past three in the afternoon when they had determined that Harry must be at Hogwarts, preparing for the final battle.

"Madam Bones!"

Amelia smirked to herself. Even without her battle robes, she was still recognisable.

Scrimgeour ran up to her with a nasty cut on his arm. "They've taken the bridge, Madam. We're whipped! I've ordered a withdrawal."

"You what!? Scrimgeour, reverse that order and get your men back into the battle!"

Amelia managed to get most of the soldiers to stop in front of the courtyard. "Where are you going!? The battle is there, you cowards!" she roared.

One of the frightened aurors yelled out, "They're awful thick in there, though, Madam."

In a rage, Amelia thundered, "That's the place to kill them, dammit, where they are the thickest!"

"Now back into the fight! Every one of ya', FORWARD!"

"And you!" Amelia roared, turning on Scrimgeour, "You know how you've always wanted kids?" Scrimgeour gave a timid nod. "I'll make sure you don't if you order another retreat again!"

Scrimgeour nodded and rushed off. Turning then on some stragglers, she commanded, "I want that bridge decimated with reductos on three!"


Neville pondered how he'd found himself in this situation. Just like the rest of the army, he'd charged on Madam Bones' order, except he'd gotten carried away and ran straight through the enemy to the bridge.

Before Neville could think more on the subject, a hail of reductos battered the bridge and the giant and small horde of spiders that was rushing across fell to their deaths far below. Through the debris, Neville could barely make out the signature billowing robes of his Potions Master.

"P-professor Snape?"

The frightening skull mask turned in his direction and simply acknowledged him. "Longbottom."

"You're a death eater?" There had been rumours, of course, and while Neville had never liked Snape, he hadn't believed them.

"There are many things you don't understand." Snape turned to walk towards the rapidly concluding fight.

"There's one thing you don't understand, Professor." Snape turned around to look at him. "I won't let you hurt my friends."

"Stupefy!"

Fast as lightning, Snape pulled out his wand and knocked it away.

Twirling his wand in a circle, Neville cast an Incendio. He had really been training hard these past few months as more and more students disappeared, and he was rather impressed with his casting speed. It was not fast enough for Snape.

An Aguamenti met the Incendio halfway and extinguished it. Neville was not to be cowed and he was quick to shoot off an Expelliarmus.

Snape seemed to be expecting this and rebounded it. Neville rapidly tried to out up a shield charm, "Protego!", but his wand only shot off a bit of silver sparks and the disarming charm caught him right in the chest.

He had lost. He had always known he was a sorry wizard. Well, at least he had died for a noble cause.

Snape walked calmly over to him, a wand in each hand. Neville closed his eyes tight and hoped that Snape would have the decency to get it over with quickly.

"Get up, Longbottom." Neville's eyes shot open and he stared at the butt-end of his wand, held firmly in Snake's grasp in an inviting nature.

"You better learn to use this Longbottom if you want to survive. Not all of the Dark Lord's followers are as generous as I."

He threw his mask on the ground and sucked in a deep breath of the humid air. "Well?" he asked condescendingly. Do you plan on gawking all afternoon, or do you want to get out of no-mans-land?"

There was the Snape he remembered.


Harry still wasn't entirely sure how to command. He was young, incompetent, and had never really excelled in chess like Ron had. Thus, he found himself trying to copy manoeuvers from A History of Magical Warfare. Finding that magical warfare had changed little since the Elizabethan era, he could only hope that he could make an unique fighting style.

Deciding that it would be best to know exactly when the enemy would begin their attack, he took a squad of aurors and a squad of legionnaires and deployed a skirmish line on the other side of the field that separated Hogsmeade from the Shrieking Shack.

There they had a perfect view of the eastern edge of the Forbidden Forest. He sent a relay to Shacklebolt, by way of a quickly scribbled letter and a borrowed owl, of the movement and the wizened Auror not only approved of it, but implemented it himself.

Harry paced around with anticipation, making both himself and the twelve legionnaires and aurors nearest him nervous.

"Wouldn't it be best if we weren't several hundred metres away from the rest of the company, sir?" asked the lieutenant commanding the aurors with a special emphasis on "sir", leaving no doubt in Harry's mind just what the 35 year old man thought of being ordered around by a child of 15.

"Our visibility is hampered by the Shrieking Shack back at Hogsmeade. Here we'll know exactly when the enemy comes and they won't be able to sneak up on us," Harry replied, feeling quite happy about his vocabulary. Between Hermione and McGonagall forcing him to reword his essays, he'd gained a powerful plethora of words.

"If we don't die first," one of the younger privates said scoffing. "Why do all of us need to be out here anyways?"

Harry pinched the bridge of his nose. It was like he was babysitting or something. "The more of us there are, the better chance we have of all of us getting out of here alive. Not to mention just how thin we have to spread out to make sure the enemy doesn't outflank us through the forest."

The forest curved around the field that surrounded the Shrieking Shack and went a ways around the small village, providing excellent cover for sneak attacks.

The lieutenant seemed to think about it, but the private continued on grumbling.

It was only moments later that the unmistakable sound of footsteps reached them; thousands of them. Everyone stiffened. They weren't in sight yet, but the steps grew louder with each passing second. And just like he thought, there were footsteps far off to the right; the death eaters were certainly trying to flank them.

"Vane!" called Harry. The young thirteen year old rushed over. Despite being a pureblood, she was thoroughly against Voldemort, mostly due to some sort of affection for him that he couldn't conceive, and a quick runner.

"Go back and tell them not to fire until we're off the hill. Then light it up like Christmas."

"Yessir! Give 'em hell for me!" she yelled as she darted away.

Harry certainly planned on it. "Lieutenant, keep them from flanking us for a few minutes. I'll take care of the ones in our front."

"Whatever," he said grumpily. But then in a bout of kindness and a grudging respect in Shacklebolt's ability to pick out leaders, he said, "Take care, kid."

Turning back to the nervous legionnaires, Harry told them, "It's really quite simple. As soon as you see them, hit them with whatever you've got. Then run a short distance and do the same. When we get within distance of the main line, you just foot it there. Make sense?"

He only received a couple of nods and he was afraid that he had already failed. But he had underestimated the legionnaires, something the enemy had done countless times. They had executed the manoeuvre perfectly, stopping eight times to blast the incoming hoards with reductos.

Both parties had made it back relatively unscathed and had only a moment to catch a breather before Voldemort's army slammed into them.

Harry ordered the lieutenant, who had successfully survived his previous task, to turn his Auror platoon so that it was facing the forest, creating a "L" shape.

For thirty minutes, things went well. The customary yells of the dying and those of the fiercely engaged mixed with the sounds of explosions to produce a terrible howl that could be heard all along the line.

An Incendio hit the Auror next to him and he fell to the ground screaming. 'Merlin! It's way to hot to be using fire curses!' he thought, as he dosed his comrade with an Aguamenti. He quickly returned to his gruesome profession.

They came on with a fearsome shout and Harry and his soldiers cut them down. To their credit, they were not lacking in bravery and many fell dead on the other side of the trenches. More filled their places.

Nor were the death eaters the only ones taking losses. There had been fifty-one legionnaires when this fight had started and now they could barely muster thirty. Many had been carried off the frontlines to the rear makeshift hospitals. In comparison, the aurors hadn't even lost a dozen, due to having far fewer enemies.

At this point in the action, that was about to change. Having mostly failed in their frontal attacks, they would try to outflank them. Harry could just make out a group running through the forest.

"Lieutenant, I don't care how you do it, but I need you to clean out the right flank," yelled Harry, pointing out the rapidly deteriorating situation on the right.

The lieutenant sighed. "I'll certainly try." And with that he was off.

Harry and a handful of legionnaires took over the position that had once been occupied by an entire Auror platoon and attempted to hold it for as long as possible. There were suddenly quite a few more enemies here as they tried to slither around the village.

"Reducto!" he shouted, hoping he'd catch approaching mass of death eaters by surprise.

Several were quick enough to put up shield charms, several jumped out of harm's way, and several more shot spells into the sky, attempting to counter it. Each missed and five men were at least blown down by the spell.

The entire squad of legionnaires opened up then, pelting the ground around the death eaters with everything from Stupefys to Reductors. After dealing with the barrage for a moment and then replying with their own curses, they finally realized that being out in the open was a horrible idea, wizard or not, and they made a mad dash for the entrenchments.

Fifteen death eaters against four young legionnaires in close quarters fighting. No this was not a good place to be at all.

Harry disarmed one as soon as he bounded over the fortifications and easily slit his throat with a quick cutting curse. Another one snarled at what he did, and so was met with a Reductor to the face.

The next two were different, obviously commanders, and though not quite Inner Circle material, they both managed to block his first strike. Instead of counterattacking as he expected, one of them asked sneering, "Herakles Black, right?"

Harry gave a cautious nod.

"Here," he said, throwing something on the ground at his feet. "The Dark Lord wanted this delivered to you."

Both wands were still pointing menacingly at him and noticing his gaze, they moved their hands slowly to their sides. "Go ahead, lad, I still plan on killing ya, but not until after the Dark Lord's orders have been met."

Unsure of what exactly to do and finding his comrades still locked on battles of their own, he figured he should play along. Picking it up, he found it was that day's edition of the Daily Prophet. Of course, obviously he'd already read the front page or he wouldn't be here, so he flipped to the second page.

There was a picture of a rather scantily clad Amelia quickly dressing as she tried to not awake her partner who was sleeping in the bed. Wait...since when had he begun looking like Sirius? The title read:

As an upstanding member of British wizarding society, I find myself appalled at the audacity of some of the higher members of our government. While I wholefully admit that I am not privy to all the information, like most of our faithful readers probably already know, there was quite a battle fought in the Ministry Atrium this morning. (More on The Battle of the Ministry on Page 3.) Many aurors can attest that after the battle, a black-haired teen, now identified as Herakles Black, received quite the tongue-lashing from the esteemed Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement: Amelia Black nee Bones.

For many, this seems irrelevant to our good Law Enforcement Head's reputation. What many of us do not know is that Lady Black was recently wed to Lord Herakles Black, Head of the House of Potter and Scion to the House of Black. And yet, with a useful tip, I found myself in front of this scene: the esteemed Lady Black, Head of the House of Bones, in bed with a partner that is not her husband.

Harry stopped reading. Since the tournament, he'd determined that the Daily Prophet was nothing but a bunch of lies. Why, now, did he feel like it was true?

"And why exactly did he send this? Did Voldemort just want to show off his advanced forgery skills?"

Death eater 1 gave a vicious snarl and shot off an Avada Kedavra. In a bout of sheer luck, Harry managed to throw the newspaper into the killing curse, negating it, but not before ripping out the second page.

He was unable to think up a counterattack as understandably, his mind was elsewhere. 'She wouldn't...couldn't, we shagged for goodness sakes!'

'She hates me. She made that perfectly clear in the Atrium last night.'

Harry regained focus in time to see the Percutio hit him in the side. He dropped as excruciating pain rippled through the left part of his torso. Despite the excruciating pain with every breath and movement, Harry blocked an Expelliarmus and a Stupefy and took cover behind the nearest building.

Unfortunately, his thoughts resumed too. 'But Sirius would never...'

'Get over yourself, you've seen how Sirius looks at her!' The voice sounded surprisingly like Voldemort. As he began to loose the argument, for the first time since Azkaban, Harry was angry.

'H-How dare they!?' He looked again at the newspaper article. How long had they been doing this?

"Dobby," he called through clenched teeth. The small, likeable house elf appeared in an instant.

"What can Dobby do for Master Harry?" he asked, having Harry temporarily wonder if Dobby knew his secret.

Harry numbly pulled off his ring. He'd only had the silver band for a little more than a month and he felt like a part of himself was going with it. He placed it inside the newspaper and handed it to Dobby. "Take this to Madam Bones," he said, his words laced with spite.

Dobby quickly popped away, leaving a brooding Harry by himself. He took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and tried to compose himself. To his right and front, the intensity of the fight was still heard. To the left, it sounded like a footrace was going on.

So that was it then. The left had been overwhelmed and was in full retreat. If they didn't want to be cut off and captured, or worse, they'd have to do the same.

He found the two death eaters who had given him the newspaper on the other side of the building and easily despatched them with a couple of Percutios. One of the legionnaires was dead, one wounded, and the other was desperately trying to take cover whilst trying to save her wounded friend.

"Go tell the Aurors that we have to fall back, so they need to get out of there."

"But," she started to argue, looking at her friend.

"Don't worry, I'll take care of him. I give you my word. But give me your word that you'll get those aurors out of there."

She nodded, but only ever so slightly, and dashed off, leaving the fate of the person she'd always cared about to Harry.

'Now...how the hell are the rest of us going to get out of here?'


Due to his stint in Azkaban, Sirius was accustomed to bad dreams. But he never could've dreamed up the horror of James and Lily yelling at him for betraying their son.

They were right of course. His time with Amelia had passed, but once, she had been his. The contract had been instituted his fifth year. Amelia had been a studious student a year older and had cared little for his careless attitude. By their seventh year, Amelia had finally came to terms with it and they spent a happy couple of years together before the what's explosive ending sent them in different directions, literally.

With him incarcerated and Regulus dead, the contract had become null. But it had been Amelia whom had tamed the animal inside him that insisted on relieving the pain his family inflicted upon through the company of women.

But still, it did not matter. True, he had been inebriated (though, honestly, he probably would've done so anyways) but he could never truly forgive himself for harming Harry in such a way.

As he clawed his way through the Whomping Willow's passageway, he could only hope that Harry would be more forgiving than he would be in this situation.


Tamera Powers had known that joining the aurors was a bad idea. Only three days after joining, she'd been thrown into her first battle, where both her sergeant and best friend had been killed in moments. She'd fought and survived every major battle, but she suddenly felt she wouldn't make it out of this one.

"Hold 'em off!" the lieutenant yelled over the screams. Only a second later, a fell dead from the killing curse.

They had stepped into the hornet's nest and they had awakened the horde. Reductos tore up the ground so bad that the leaves were never stationary. Trees wilted as they were struck with Avada Kedavras. Incendios and Fiendfyres destroyed the forest and aurors alike as they fleed from the destructive power.

'Bugger this!' she thought and as she ran back towards Hogsmeade as fast as she could.

She quickly realized that they were surrounded when she near ran into a death eater only a couple hundred metres to the rear. He had his wand trained on her in an instant and she had no choice but to surrender.

He smirked as she slowly dropped her wand. Everyone knew that capture, especially for an fit, pureblood female like her, was worse than death.

Not too far away, she saw a young girl, probably one of those bloody legionnaires, in the same situation. This would be so much more unpleasant for the poor girl.


"Look there!" Kingsley shouted the throngs of retreating hitwizards and aurors, "There stands Black like a stone wall! Rally behind the Legionnaires!"

The rout stopped as the men realized that only a dozen of mere students were still fighting for their lives, whilst they had decided that their courage had ran out for the day. They quickly did rally and Kingsley was able to launch a counter-charge.

Without the creature support that they had expected to have and having suffered fearful losses in the attack, the mercenaries and death eaters retreated back into the forest.

The Battle of Hogsmeade had concluded. 400 aurors and hitwizards were dead and half that were wounded. The fifty aurors that had been with the right flank were unaccounted for and Kingsley could only assume that they were all dead.

He couldn't be sure for certain but the enemy had probably suffered quadruple that number slain on the field.


A/N- Well, I can't exactly take credit for some of those quotes.

"That's the place to kill them, dammit, where they are the thickest!" was spoken by Major General John Logan at the Battle of Atlanta I believe but I'm not sure about that one.

And I think everyone who has at least heard of the American Civil War knows of: "There stands Jackson like a stone wall! Rally behind the Virginians!" -spoken by Brigadier General Barnard Bee at First Manassas.

Sorry, what can I say, I'm a military history buff.

By the way, just thought that I'd throw it in there that I only use canon characters. For example, Tamera Powers is a real person in Harry Potter's world. Its just that I actually hate OCs (despite my first story being exactly about that).

Anyways, thanks for reading. Be sure to review!