The Minister's words shocked the crowd into action. The group of hard faced witches and wizards around him grew, the power collected starting to stir the air as continuing explosions rocked the city. Dumbledore looked between them and the smaller group levitating the wounded that Tom had joined, clearly torn.
"I'll be fine sir." Tom was certain of no such thing, but Bond was far away and the attack wasn't aimed at him. The Ministry wards were old and powerful, being sheltered by them would surely be safer than hanging around outside in a burning city. More immediately if he wished to be seen as powerful being chivvied around by Dumbledore wouldn't help. Risks had to be taken, and fortune favored the bold.
The professor nodded, he had obviously wanted to help deal with the attackers, and he turned to join the minister's force. That left Tom alone with the casualties, their moans and cries silenced only the deafening blasts.
"Boy! Help lift the stretchers!" The woman who snapped at him had a pitted face, and there was blood on her robes that didn't seem to be hers. "If any owl shows up to complain about your magic I'll kill it myself." She spun after the admonishment, touching her wand to her throat before roaring at the milling and shocked remainder with an amplified voice that shook the air. "Listen up you scrubs! We're leaving this place and walking five blocks to the Ministry. The more time we spend here the better chance another one of those things hits us."
"But if we-" The man who protested was silenced by a stinging hex that drew blood.
"We're not staying, but if you want to die alone you can." He was cowed, holding his hand to his bleeding cheek and gaping. "Anyone else? Good. Now let's go!"
With a wave of her wand a third of the stretchers rose and began to follow her towards the shattered windows. Another angry slash vanished the obstacle as she strode into the street. Tom lifted his own stretcher and followed her into the burning hell that was London at war.
The drone of bombers and the higher pitched scream of fighters filled the air. Tom remembered the Blitz, and he remembered when it had ended, the Luftwaffe's strength thought to be broken. Clearly they hadn't agreed with that analysis. Flak blazed through the sky, the tracer rounds chasing planes that flitted through the clouds of smoke and floodlights leaving death in their wake.
The woman leading them didn't seem to care as she rushed through the streets, dragging the group by sheer force of will. The cataclysmic explosions wracking the city weren't enough for her to break stride, her resilience in the face of danger inspiring the rest of them.
Ahead of them Tom could see muggle soldiers rushing, dragging hoses as they fought the blazes. One crew managed to get their line attached and started to play a stream of water against the flames. Out of nowhere a line of bullets stitched across the street, eviscerating the squad and puncturing the hose. The plane that did it was long gone by the time their strange procession passed them, but it had been long enough for the water to flood the street. The blood of the bodies shined black before flashing red in sync with the explosions.
Someone in the crowd cast a reparo on the hosepipe, stopping its angry thrashing as the pressure was contained, but then they were gone, leaving the dead and dying lying drenched in the street behind them.
"That's the Ministry!" Their leader's voice was solid in the chaos, her sheer confidence rousing the others. "We've almost made it, one last rush!"
Suiting actions to words she doubled their pace, almost jogging as she led them down the street for the entirely anonymous building. The only thing distinguishing it from the other similar government buildings surrounding it was the lack of damage. The only sign of the attack was a scorch mark on its front steps.
The tired and scared group followed her, the sight of their destination and safety inspiring them as the rest of the city continued to fall into chaos. They crossed the last hundred yards in a near dead sprint, the solid oak doors opening as they arrived and the skeleton crew inside began to help move the floating stretchers inside.
Their leader held up the healthy just outside. Her eyes were flickering from the rapidly shrinking number in danger, the workers dealing with the wounded, and the state of the city. Tom just watched her, someone with her power and drive would probably have better instincts that his own, and by remaining calm in a crisis and not pushing through the seething crowd he'd further his own reputation. That concern rapidly vanished as he saw her eyes widen, and then her wand moved.
Tom didn't know how he followed what happened next, perhaps some of Dumbledore's preternatural speed had rubbed off on him, but he could see the streamlined black casing of the bomb hurtling down as the witch went through the pattern of a shield spell. The burst of heat and light foundered on the invisible ramparts she'd summoned, but the noise and flash were stunning on its own. The blocked explosion ignited the trees lining the street, and the sudden blazing light was enough to reveal the stress lines on her face. She watched the fire for a bare instant, making sure it was no further threat, then turned back to watch the last of the crowd scuttle in through the doors. The inferno reduced her to a silhouette against it, her emotions, any sign of her triumph, were invisible through the glare of the fire.
The second figure bursting from the flames was just as dark, but a line of fire followed its strike as it carved a gaping hole through the witch's abdomen. There was a single frozen moment as the spray of blood landed on the crowd, seemingly carrying the heat of the blaze with it. The creature's almost contemptuous backhand knocked the witch into the flames, using the hit to launch itself forward. Tom ran.
His action spurred the rest, the wounded forgotten as the remaining survivors sprinted through the door. Tom was quicker than them, his youth and initiative letting him get through the opening and into the safety of the wards.
"Close it! Shut the fucking door!" He didn't know who was screaming, but he agreed wholeheartedly. He threw a glance behind him, the steps and door were splattered with blood as the inferi battered against the suddenly visible wards at the threshold.
The monster was wearing clothes, dark fabric that was scorched but still clung to its body, the blood sticking the sodden material to its torso. Bits of the monster seemed to fleck off of its hands as it struck, a miasma forming as its flesh was slowly disintegrated by the defensive spells. They were thinning though, and the creature screamed in triumph as it ripped a hole in the silvered air. In a move more serpentine than of the body it wore the inferi squeezed through, its clothes evaporating as they struck the lingering remnants.
Spellfire greeted it, but the monsters had given Bond pause and no one here could match him. Tom ran, fleeing the shouts and screams as the beast hunted its prey.
He saw the elevator he'd taken once before, but any thought of escape through the Yggdrasil vanished when he saw the scrum forming in front of the shaft. Instead he turned running into a dark maze of offices and desks. He could build a fort, shelter. He didn't need to kill the inferi, only hold out long enough for somebody, Dumbledore, to defeat it.
The screams were changing in tenor in the atrium behind him as Tom began to erect his defenses. Each time he'd seen this done they'd failed, Merrythought's, his own in Nurmengard, the thought wasn't enough to stop him. He couldn't match the offensive power needed to beat the creatures, and further running would only end with a claw through his back.
Around him the desks shifted to stone and morphed into crude walls. He didn't summon his snake, he remembered how easily Bond's centipede had fallen, but he did charm the floors around him to be frictionless. The inferi could probably just claw through the slick layer, but it would buy him more time.
Just as he started to worry about what else he could do the screams stopped. It was a pregnant moment, he knew the monster must have won, but he hoped he was wrong.
An instant later the screams resumed, but they were triumphant, the hunting shrieks of the newly raised corpses.
"Pass Auf!" The new voice carried through the atrium, the deep tones resonating with magic in a way entirely separate from the deafening cries. "Voran!"
The pounding of feet approached, seemingly driven by the wizard's commands. Two of the bodies paused at the door to the room Tom was hiding in, looking for all the world like hounds searching for a bird. One of the bodies was still dressed in the long coat of the Aurors, the other he recognized from the enormous gouge in its side. The necromancer Bond killed had been right, the things Grindelwald made were far beyond simple shambling corpses.
They saw him the same time he did, the darkness was no obstacle to their sight, and their cries were different, announcing they'd found prey.
"Phosphourfenian!" His spell found purchase, but the Auror's corpse charged forward as its lungs burnt white, gouts of flame erupting from its skull.
The slick floor tripped both up, their bodies sprawling and thrashing as they tried to find purchase. It would only be a second until they were up again, and Tom desperately struggled for something.
Fire, more fire was the answer and as he forced his power through his wand he could hear the triumphant courage of phoenix song.
The burning Auror evaporated as a column of sunfire tore through him, but the other inferi was as capable in death as she'd been in life. With inhuman strength she flung herself to the ceiling, puncturing the plaster with clawed hands and scuttling ever closer. It was a struggle to bring his wand to bear on her rapid approach, he wrestled the flames with his will and main force but he couldn't catch up as she raced towards him.
"Nein! Nein! Hier!" Just before she reached him the shouts of the wizard outside rang through the building. The corpse didn't hesitate as it sprinted back, dropping to the floor and almost vanishing in its haste.
Tom couldn't enjoy the sudden respite, his hungry flames had ignited the ceiling and he could hear the beams overhead cracking. He had no choice but to follow the inferi in its flight, charging headfirst into unknown danger as his wand sang of valor and victory.
The atrium was a charnel house, the risen corpses had left their blood behind and scattered limbs littered the floor. Nothing was moving, no restless dead profaned the night. The witch who had done so much was finally still, her torso separated from her legs by yards.
At the entrance two armored figures stood, surrounded by a cloud of racing stars. The Reaper, it could be no other in the black robes, was hung on chains of lightning before the taller one, his head clasped in front of him in metal gauntlets with their eyes locked together.
The German was thrashing and screaming, only his head remaining fixed in placed, before he was flung negligently away, his flight through the orbiting balls of light leaving him with new holes that spat brilliant blue beams. Tom was almost frozen, the comfort of his wand's warmth nearly lost to the sudden overwhelming fear. Bond was here.
Neither he nor, it had to be Lady Clara, had noticed him yet, and Tom knew he couldn't waste the chance. He broke into a flat-out run toward the elevator shaft, a blasting curse leaving his wand.
"James!" The explosion of the expanded metal door had drawn their attention, and the second it took for Bond to spin and recognize him was an instant too long. He was at the shaft and jumping, one last spell pulling the dismembered corpse of the witch beneath him.
Bond's reflexive attack shattered the stonework above him as he dropped, rubble and shrapnel scattered around him, Dumbledore's shields still holding.
"Arresto Momentum!" He meant to stop at the Yggdrasil chamber, but he fell too fast, barely slowing enough to make the impact with the top of the elevator car bruising rather than bone crushing.
He wanted to rest, to groan and pull himself up slowly, but Bond was just behind him.
An effort of will pulled the doors open and Tom scrambled up, leaving the mortal remains of the witch who'd done so much behind him.
The hall before him was featureless, black tiles, none of the artificial windows and a single black door at the end. He sprinted towards the door, past the faintly glowing blue torches. He didn't know what was down there, but at this point he'd take anything.
He shouldered the door open. It didn't resist him it all as he burst through, and it bounced off the wall and closed as Tom was forced to a halt. All around him were doors, ringing the round chamber, and as he stopped they started spinning, accelerating until he was surrounded by a blur of wood and stone.
"I don't have time for this!" He wanted to lash out, but before he could the doors stopped, one jerking forward. Not questioning his good luck, he ran for it. If nothing else Bond would have to search for him.
The room he entered was full, both of clocks and Reapers. His sudden arrival seemed to stun them, but Tom was beyond surprise.
"Confringo!" His shouted spell took a heavily burdened Reaper right in the chest. His load, golden hourglasses, exploded with him, spraying him and others with gray dust. Whatever was hit by the dust withered, screams of pain and rage filling the air as the Germans saw what he'd done to them.
Tom didn't have time to admire his handiwork, instead sprinting forward into the screaming masses. He needed them as cover, if he was among them their spellfire would hit their comrades.
He didn't know what the dust was, but he knew he didn't want it touching him. Bond's first lesson would serve him again.
"Cercumversio Petrum!" Around him the splinters of gold and clouds of dust rose and raced. The wizards caught in it eroded, their very flesh worn away by the shrapnel and sand. Tom didn't bother to cast another spell, only charging towards the rest of the Reapers.
His shield caught their attacks, and then shredded the attackers. In what felt like seconds he stood alone, surrounded by wreckage, dead men, and his own swirling magic. He had done it once again, he had emerged triumphant against fearsome odds.
The hammerblow striking the door behind him broke him from his congratulatory mood. There was no cover in the room, his spells had seen to that, but there were two other doors. Another smash, followed by a crunch showed someone had succeeded in ripping a crack in the door. Tom launched the remainder of the dust and his circling shield at the entrance, maybe he'd get lucky, and broke for the closer exit.
He came to a halt nearly instantly, the frigid room was dark and full of tall shelves dimly lit by blue candles and dully glowing orbs. Tom mastered himself quickly and moved again, disillusioning himself as he ran between the long corridors formed by the towering constructions.
The door he'd entered through opened again and he turned to look back as the dark room was partially illuminated, the crystal spheres gleaming in the cone of light. Bond's armored figure vanished before the light did, and Tom dropped, pressing himself against one of the shelves as he tried to think of a plan that didn't end with him dead.
Bond's voice filled the air before he came up with one, and Tom listened, hoping more than anything for a reason behind the relentless chase.
"It's more fitting than you know that you'll meet your end here Tom." Tom dared to peek around the room, he couldn't see anything and Bond's voice was coming from every direction. "Prophecy has ruled both of our lives, and I've lost more to you from these chambers than any man should bear."
"Why! Why are you doing this?" After he shouted Tom couldn't say why he did it, except that after a night of death and fire his reserves were almost spent.
Bond slipped into existence just in front of him, his wand tip already glowing a sickly green. "It doesn't matter why I'm doing this, only that I am. Goodbye Tom."
"Avada Kedavra-" "Phosphourfenian!" Once more phoenix fire and song roared into the night, but this time it didn't stop.
A line of shining golden light connected their wands, and the little of Bond's face that could be seen through his helmet contorted in rage. "How?" He snarled unhinged. "You lost that wand!"
All around them glistening beams formed a cage, roughly shoving back the high shelves and causing the crystal orbs to fall and shatter.
Disembodied voices spoke from the mist and smoke released by the broken glass, but all of Tom's attention was on the bead of light midway between their wands. He could feel it pushing against him as his wand began to vibrate, the holy wood audibly straining against the magic.
Whatever was happening Bond seemed to be ready for it. He thrust his own wand forward and the ball of light rocketed along the string, smashing into Tom's wand with a surge of heat. A wave of ghostly fire seemed to emerge from his wand, harmonizing with the still glorious chorus. Bond didn't wait though, he wrenched his wand away and the song and light vanished.
"Too long I've waited!" He roared as he lashed his wand back one final time.
"Indeed. Avada Kedavra." The newcomer's sudden interruption, the green flash and the rush of wings stunned Tom, but not Bond. The older wizard was already rolling, but the spell wasn't aimed at Bond.
Tom watched the green bolt strike his chest, and the world shifted.
He could see his body lying on the floor and he could hear a pounding heartbeat as he stared at the smirking Dark Lord through the thin slits in his helmet.
"He was mine to kill." Each word dripped menace, but Grindelwald waved it off with an airy flick of his wand.
"Don't worry, to the rest of the world he will have been." The blond wizard glanced behind him, listening to the battle beyond the walls. "In fact one such observer is coming. His outward geniality may fool most, but I can assure you that when he finds you with young master Riddle at your feet he will be anything but forgiving."
"And what's keeping me here, now that my task is done? I'm not the one with the greater good obsession and a legion of Nazis." Tom could feel further magic developing around him, Bond was playing for time. "You're the only one alive who's even seen me, and I don't think you're the most credible witness."
"Perhaps my word that the lovely Marquise will remain unharmed?" Grindelwald's smile never wavered. "She is formidable, but my Reapers have their talents and without you by her side we were able to capture her."
Bond's hands clenched so tightly that the metal of his gauntlets seemed to flex. "And do you expect me to surrender?"
The thought seemed to amuse Grindelwald as he laughed, just as joyous as he'd been in Nurmengard.
"No Mr. Bond. I expect you to fight and delay Dumbledore, and then I expect you to die."
Grindelwald vanished as the main door exploded open, the professor standing tall, shrouded in flame with Fawkes on his shoulder. His blue eyes were shining, casting an eerie glow on his curiously blank face as they traced from Tom's body back to Bond.
"This ends now."