They arrived at the bridge in time to see the onslaught of Snatchers and Death Eaters storm from the tree line, running and howling, war cries ripping through the air at the approach. On the bridge stood Neville Longbottom, alone and looking decidedly different from when she last saw him. His shyness was visibly gone, replaced by a man, not a boy, standing tall and facing the oncoming destruction without fear. She remembered stories of his parents, remembered thinking of their fates as she had lain incarcerated in Azkaban. They would have been proud to see him now.

"Is it ready Neville?" she called out and she approached, crossing to where he stood quickly, trying to ignore the heavy creaking of the soon to be destroyed boards beneath her feet.

He turned and half smiled at her, nodding his head before his eyes fell on the two figures at her sides. She saw his brow furrow for a moment, before he smoothed it out with a diffident shrug.

"Strange times, eh?" he said, his voice raised over the enemy.

She smiled tightly in return as several of the stampeding men before them went through the barrier, the barrier she had helped create, and dissolved into a flurry of bright sparks. The crowd stopped dead, several teetering on the brink, careful not to touch the invisible warding. She let out a slow breath as Neville barked a forced laugh at her side.

"Yeah?!" he shouted into the darkness, "You and whose army?"

She reached out a hand and touched his wrist. She didn't want to make them any angrier. Angry people did mad things, things which were dangerous, which could hurt more than just themselves. Ana hoped fervently that whatever Harry was doing to chip away at Voldemort's power, he would be finished with it soon. Until then, all they could do was stand, and hope that the warding held. The silence was filled with tension, the small array of defenders attempting to stand unwavering before the masses. Only Snape seemed unperturbed, his breathing even, his stance relaxed.

A sudden roar, visceral and ragged, echoed out across the hills. They all winced at the sound, friend and foe alike – even the previously unruffled Snape. The sound of it made her teeth clench involuntarily and goose bumps ripples across her skin. Ana was sure she was not the only one.

A sudden light caught their eyes, a bright stream coming from the hills, heading straight for the castle. Hundreds of heads turned to follow the inevitable collision of the solid beam and the only thing standing between Hogwarts and a full invasion. Instantly upon connecting with the shielding above their heads the fine network of protection began to disperse, cracks appearing, the structure weakened.

"Oh…shit." she whispered.

Flames appeared, growing, spreading. The holes getting larger, fluttering flickers of ash falling from the sky all around them. She looked to Snape desperately.

"How did He do that? So quickly? It should have held longer than that."

Her Father eyed her solidly, before answering in a low voice,

"He's desperate. Using his power to the full, without fear of consequence." A pause for contemplation. "Potter must be having some effect."

She turned back, her emotions mixed. The news was good, but it wouldn't protect them here and now, on the…

The man at the front of the crowd ranged against them raised his wand and gently touched a piece of the falling flame with his wand tip. It floated away, harmlessly. He looked at them, eyes bright with something dangerous, before, tentatively, taking a step forward.

"Get back," she whispered, raising her wand and holding out a hand behind her. "I'll hold them off, make sure enough of them are on the bridge. Then…" she left it unsaid, but the implication was there.

"Ana…" Draco interrupted,

"Go. Snape, take the boys."

There was a shuffling behind her as the man before them took another tentative step forward, and her allies took a step backwards to match it.

A movement at her side, and suddenly her Father was there, his own wand raised. He did not take his eye from the enemy but simply said,

"They are grown men. They decide for themselves. As do I."

She sighed. All for one and one for all it was then. All eyes were trained on the man at the front of the crowd. He was tilting his head at the sight of his foot, quite clearly within what had until moments ago been the castle's boundaries.

A chuckle, silence. Then a roar.

"GO!" she screamed throwing a Killing Curse their way before turning and running as quickly as she could, the two younger men before her, Snape at her side. Spells bounced around them as the crowd squeezed onto the bridge. She focused on aiming at the enemy, knowing the boys ahead of them would take care of igniting the charges spread throughout the bridge.

A pain in her leg almost caused her to stumble, yet she continued on, ignoring the burn of what was undoubtedly a Stinging Hex. She was lucky it wasn't something far worse – what idiot used a Stinging Hex in a battle for their life? An echoing crash behind them indicated Draco and Neville had taken care of the ignition. The only problem was, they were halfway across the bridge. The next boom sounded, following quickly by another. There was screaming at their tail now, and no more spells fired their way. They were all running for survival now.

Her Father kept pace effortlessly, still sending Curses over his shoulder sporadically. If she hadn't been so worried she would have marvelled at his prowess. However the end of the bridge was in sight, and all she could do was concentrate on getting there. Yet even as she thought it she knew that it was too late. With a sickening lurch the floor went from under her feet, and she just had time to see Draco and Neville leap for the end of the bridge before the world went above her head and she was falling.

Instantly she turned in the air, hoping against hope that her exhaustion, the power of strengthening the wards, had not weakened her beyond her own salvation. Her body, however, obeyed, despite her mind's doubts, and she felt the familiar dissembling take place, as she soared back up in a cloud of blackness and resumed her body on the edge of the newly formed precipice. She immediately turned to her side and was sick, dry heaving from the lack of food, grasping the wood of the bridge for support.

Behind her she was aware of Neville scrambling up the edge of the now severed bridge's end, Draco aiding him in his climb from near to where she stood. She was aware of Ginny Weasley asking them if they were alright. She felt a hand on her back, another scooping back her hair with a firm touch. She opened her eyes, breathing deeply through her nose and out of her mouth, to see her Father there, at her side. She smiled weakly, meeting his eyes with her identically coloured pair.

"Ana?"

Draco appeared in her line of sight and she nodded, her Father's hands drifting away, and she leaned over the edge where the bridge had been, spitting into the abyss below. There wasn't a Death Eater in sight.

"I'm fine," she reassured him, a hand on his shoulder. "Well done, both of you."

Neville grinned from his prone position on the ground.

Explosions caught their gaze, coming from the courtyard. Hogwarts. She wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, catching the spittle there. She had to go. Her steps were unsteady, one leg dragging slightly, but no one stopped her as she made for the castle. In fact she felt their presence at her side, behind her. They were children, really. An army of children and teachers at her back. Before them was their leader, a boy who had lived through more atrocities than any other. It was mad. It was completely mad. Yet this was the outcome she had given her former life for. This was the battle she was willing to sacrifice all for. It was the end.

She threw a Killing Curse to her right, taking out an approaching Death Eater who had been partway through bellowing the same thing to her. She could feel weariness deep in her bones, suffocating her, yet Ana knew she could not stop. More flashes of light from both sides, her wand weaving spells, her mind pushing through the tiredness and ache to bind herself to each and every one. Her stomach was roiling, wanting to void itself yet finding nothing to eject. An explosion ahead, the entrance to the courtyard in flames. To the right giants walked, swinging clubs, battering Flitwick and McGonagall's army of stone knights to pieces.

She turned to her Father.

"Ever killed a giant?" she asked.

He furrowed his brow.

"Well then, let's see just how good the Half Blood Prince really is."

She picked up her pace, stepping around flaming rubble, where the last of the stone guards were fighting valiantly against their attackers. She altered her direction, pointing straight for the nearest giant. Ana was running now, her legs screaming out in agony, the burn of the Hex weeping and cracking under the pressure of her exertion. A quick spell, softly murmured to ease the effort of wordlessness, and she leaped. Her Levitation Charm catapulted her up and, using the head of a stone knight, she leaped again. Her hand reached for her thigh, for a dagger. The giant looked up, seeing a human at his height, slow brain addled by the fighting, processing the sight. It didn't have long to do so, as she was descending, arm outstretched, blade pointing downwards. Her shoulder wrenched in its socket as the blade embedded in the giant's skull, cutting through flesh and bone, leaving her dangling as it froze. It was a moment before the beast toppled, falling to its knees and then onto its face. Ana tugged her blade free, foot on the creature's collar bone for leverage, and jumped out of the way, avoiding being crushed by the heavy dead weight coming to land.

Ahead of her she saw a flaming whip circle the air around another giant, cutting into its body, felling it swiftly before moving onto the next. Her Father stood at the fiery weapon's source, turning his wand expertly. She set her gaze above him, where Dementors were circling. Her breathing steadied as she summoned a thought, of a man bringing her a gift whilst she was still unsteady on her feet, still wearing nappies and only speaking half intelligibly. His eyes were soft and he handed her a book. Clumsy hands opened it, dark eyes widened at the images and colours, showing potions and poultices; although then she was too young to know it. Her child's eyes saw only a beautiful gift – the nicest she had ever received. The warmth in the memory extended through her raised wand as she pointed above his head and summoned the stream of silver which would protect him. It formed a canopy, her Eagle smothered by the strength of the thought, bathing the battling Severus Snape in silver light.

"GET INSIDE!"

Ana heard the Scots in the voice and knew McGonagall had given the courtyard up for lost. She could see why. A number of Death Eaters had flown into the compound and were cursing everything in sight. Still more were crashing through windows, smashing glass and entering Hogwarts unchecked. Acromantula ran in groups, captured their victims with silk and poison. Giants lumbered to and fro, destroying where they could. Dementors began to regroup. Behind her, another explosion, this one close enough to rattle her bones and make her ears ring. She leaped aside as rubble headed straight for her, several smaller pieces catching her face and body. A grunt of pain was all she allowed herself, as the silver canopy dissolved and her Father backed towards her. His flaming whip still shone brightly, but they both knew it would no longer be enough to hold back the ever growing onslaught.

"Inside." she said, turning and heading towards the main doors, knowing without looking that he would follow her. They ran towards the steps, meeting with Minerva on the threshold.

"They're inside," the older woman said, adding with fear in her voice, "With the children."

Ana nodded. A swarm of Death Eaters approached and she threw up a shield, forcing back the spells intended to kill them. A woman ran at her, her eyes illuminated in the flashes of spells and flames all around them, her wand raised. Ana felled the woman without hesitation, swiping her wand through the air, causing the attacker to fall before her own fatal spell had left her lips.

"Close the doors, defend the children," Ana said, scanning and seeing that there were few Order members and students remaining outside, in contrast to the many Death Eaters. "We'll hold the gates as long as we can, buy you time."

She looked to her Father and saw him nod his assent. Minerva did not hesitate, withdrawing and using magic to slam the doors securely behind her. Warding appeared around the edges, signalling their difficulty to pass to any would be marauder. It would do little good. A cursory glance showed that large parts of the castle had been destroyed by giants clubs, flames and vicious spells. Yet being able to have your back to somewhere you knew was safe was always a good thing. Ana had learned that from hard experience.

A giant lumbered into the courtyard, swinging his club haphazardly. She saw it slam into a fallen bell, barely missing the three people hiding behind it. Ana watched as they stood and ran, her eyes narrowed. Was that Harry? She couldn't be sure and had no time to check. Her wand pointed to the giant and she swirled her arm above her head, building a spell she hadn't used in years above her before pointing her wand squarely at the creature. Shots of sparks soared towards it, piercing it like arrowheads. Ana moved forwards as the giant advanced, howling in rage and pain.

Ahead a mighty light appeared, several of the few remaining students and Order members lighting up the bridge with a Patronus charm, warding away the Dementors threatening to once again descend. The giant swung his club clumsily and she ducked, feeling the gust of displaced air above her head even as she stood and ran through its legs. Her wand spewed a cord of light as she went, tangling itself around the creature's ankles and causing it to wobble where it stood. A knife was pulled from her sheath and she pulled it across the giant's calves, causing it to scream in anger and attempt to swing at her again. It was enough to topple it, the writhing body crashing to the ground, displacing brick and stone as it fell. Ana put a dagger through its skull, walking across the prone body whilst defending a plethora of curses her act had attracted from the Death Eaters.

Three Death Eaters charged her at once and the Shield Charm she used in defence barely bounced away the attacking curses. Her duck to avoid a Killing Curse made her cry out, her injured leg now bleeding profusely from the earlier sustained wound. There was no time to stop, to heal it. Only time to defend. Curses flew from her wand, flying through her mind as quickly as she could think of them, cast without hesitation, keeping the attackers descending on her from forming a joint onslaught, keeping them battling just as hard as she could. As one was felled, another appeared, her arm catching what she thought might have been the edge of a severing charm, pain ripping through her side as she attempted to dodge what she was sure was some kind of Reductor Curse with only partial success.

There had been battles in her life, but none with numbers as hopelessly overwhelming as this. It hit her then that they might not win. They might not even survive the hour. Ana turned, releasing she had lost her Father and attempting to seek him out amongst the mayhem, hoping at the very least to know he was alive before she was overcome. However before she could, a note ran through the air. A note which made friend and foe alike pause, eyes raising, hands going to ears, many attempting to keep out the pain of the voice of the Dark Lord himself speaking directly into their minds. A terrifying quite fell as he began to speak.

"You have fought valiantly…but in vain. I do not wish this. Every drop of magical blood spilt is a terrible waste. I therefore command my forces to retreat. In their absence, dispose of your dead with dignity. Harry Potter – I now speak directly to you. On this night you have allowed your friends to die for you, rather than face me yourself. There is no greater dishonour. Join me in the Forbidden Forest and confront your fate. If you do not do this I shall kill every last man, woman and child who tries to conceal you from me."

The lifting of the voice was like the lifting of a weight. She watched, wand raised, poised to continue the battle if necessary, as the Death Eaters began to disappear into the night, the creatures retreat across the bridge, the enemy slip into the darkness leaving only destruction in its wake. Why was he doing this? Did Voldemort truly think he could not win? His numbers outweighed theirs…no. It was because this way, with blind destruction, he would never find Harry before Harry had weakened him to normalcy. Desperation, as her Father had predicted.

A creaking behind her and the great doors of Hogwarts were opened. On the doorstep stood Professor Flitwick, his tiny frame enveloped by the light gleaming dimly beyond him. She could see rubble and destruction. She could see bodies on the ground beyond where he stood. Her heart lurched. Sirius. She had to find him. Her eyes scanned the battlefield and picked out her Father amongst the blackness. He was walking stiffly, one arm cradled oddly to his side. She limped over, leg dragging worse than ever, a hand cradling her injured side, ignoring the blood from her face which had trailed down to her lips, coating them red. The taste of the salt and iron of sweat and blood made her want to gag.

"Are you alright?" she rasped.

He nodded stiffly, his face paler than even its usual ghostly pallor. He removed his wand arm from his chest to reveal a sleeve which ended in nothingness.

"I have sealed the wound."

She could hear the pain in his voice, the sharpness of his words. Her eyes stared blankly, waiting for his right hand to slide out and show itself. There was nothing but a torn robe.

"Oh no…" she whispered, taking a step forward.

He flinched, as though to move away from her.

"Don't," she cautioned, sheathing her wand and reaching out, gently pulling back the sleeve. Surely enough she could see a clean cut just past where his wrist would be. The stump was sealed, as he had said, and her fingers reached out to gently stroke the smooth skin, almost seamless, where he had somehow healed himself, despite the pain, regardless of the intensity of the battle - and using the wrong hand.

Her eyes went up to his face, blooded, soot covered, paler than pale, dark eyes boring out through it all. She was supposed to protect him. She was supposed to save him this time. Her eyes clouded with tears as, without being able to stop herself, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him. She did not expect him to respond, and so was surprised when a hand came to the back of her head, softly weaving through her hair to cradle her head. The threatening tears falling at this, an embrace she had almost forgotten the feeling of in the passing years. Her body sagged into it, unable to think of how tired he must be, needing only the strength of her Father in that moment.

"I'm so sorry," she breathed, "I should have…"

"It is I who am at fault," he interrupted, voice a muted version of its slightly nasal rumble, "I allowed myself to be overwhelmed – an easy target for those vengeful over my change in allegiance. It was not something I considered, and I paid for it."

She withdrew, noticing they were the only ones left in the courtyard. The others had all moved to the doors where Flitwick still stood, waiting for them. She curled her arm through his good one and accompanied him to the doors, him taking a little of her weight without asking and they made their way heavily to the Great Doors. It reminded her of the first time they had met in this world, her injured, him leading her to the castle with his arm as her walking stick. Her fingers tightened around his arm. This time there was nothing in his face which told her he found their closeness displeasing.

The scene inside was chaos. There were bodies strew across the floor, some on stretchers, others simply laid there, awaiting attention. The crying and keening of those who were injured or had lost loved ones went through her like fire. She tightened her grip on her Father, glad it was a hand he had lost and not his life. Her eyes roved for faces she knew, passing over various Weasley's with relief, seeing a number of teachers mostly unscathed. Her eyes spied a white blonde head and her smile widened slightly at the sight of Draco Malfoy helping Madam Pomfrey administer to the injured. However it was when she saw a man sat on the benches, holding a towel to his chest dazedly, she finally called out.

"Sirius!"

He looked up, snapping from his reverie, before shakily standing. Ana released her Father's arm and took a step forward, before hesitating and looking back at him. He inclined his head, moving slowly to sit on a bench of his own, where some students were comparing minor wounds with shaky voices and, in some cases, vomit stained clothes.

She moved forwards, coming to him with aching slowness and gently placing a hand to the wound. Her eyes closed and she drew on her reserves of strength, murmuring gently as she fed healing magic into his skin, knotting together flesh and muscle once again. She didn't stop in her casting as his hand came up and cupped her face, fingers dancing around various cuts and scrapes she could feel on his skin.

Finally she opened her eyes, letting out a sigh of relief when she saw him looking back at her, towel hanging from his hand, no longer needed. He was alive. He was going to be alright. They'd made it through the first assault. Her shaking hands rose, pulling him towards her, kissing him as he kissed her, tasting salt on his lips and only realising when she pulled away that it was caused by tears, not sweat.

"Remus…" he murmured gesturing to where he'd been sitting. She looked over, then directed her gaze down, to the stretchers aligned across the floor. There, lying peacefully with hands touching, were Remus and Tonks. Neither of them were moving.

"No…" she whispered, gripping him tighter and willing those bodies to move, that gauntness of death to lift and colour return.

"I tried to save them," he said, his voice shaking with barely suppressed emotion, "Fuck, I tried to…I…"

He sank down, no longer able to hold himself up from under his grief. She went with him, unable to stand any longer unaided, their knees hitting the floor hard, her hands behind his neck, pulling his forehead to meet hers as they shared their grief. Tonks had just had a baby, she was so young, so good, had so much to live for and Remus…

A sob escaped her. The man who had helped raise her, whom she had counted one of her greatest friends, a mentor and a brother, was gone. He had died and she had lived. She's saved her Father but she'd failed Remus Lupin and his wife.

"I couldn't save them," Sirius repeated, his breath hitching as he tried to speak past tears.

"It wasn't you," she sobbed, opening her eyes and seeing his contorted face, seeing her own pain reflected back at her. "It was them – Death Eaters. Voldemort. They did this. We will…" she took in a breath, tears choking her voice for a moment. What was the point? Her friends were gone. No words of vengeance would bring them back.

He opened his own eyes, the pain tempered with steel. They might not speak of vengeance but the need was there, in both of them. She used her thumbs to wipe away his tears even as her own breaths hitched with sobs. A wail from nearby echoed through the hall. No one looked up, all similarly having lost someone, all trying to hold in their own pain with varying degrees of success.

A groaning broke through the reverie. Not a human groan, but that of old wood moving tired limbs. She looked up to see Harry, Ron and Hermione enter the room. She staggered to her feet and pulled Sirius up with her, pointing him in the direction of his godson, watching as he lurched forth, enveloping the boy in his arms. She smiled softly before looking away, back down to the bodies of their friends. Ana used the bench to lower herself slowly back to the ground. With gentle hands she picked two stones from by her feet and transfigured them into sheets. She laid each one over the bodies of her friends, leaving their hands loose so that they could maintain the touch they had obtained whilst falling into death. As she covered Remus she leaned forward and pressed a kiss upon his brow. It was still warm. A tear trickled down her nose and landed there, sliding to the side and down his temple. Her fingers stroked a black mark from his forehead, lingering as she released this was the last time she would ever touch him.

"Ana."

She looked up to see Snape stood above her. His expression was grave. She shakily rose to meet him, brow furrowed, wondering what more pain and suffering could be administered. What more could there be? He reached out to steady her, not removing his hand after she was stable.

"I need to talk to Potter. There's something he has to know. It's important."

She paused, waiting for him to elaborate. When he didn't she nodded, taking his arm without any objection from him and leading them both to where Harry and Sirius stood.

A/N: Why did they have to die? I could answer that a million ways. I will however only say this - Ana is not a mystical, magical, fairy fixer girl. She can't make everything in the world sunshine and flowers. Her presence changes some things. However certain others will always be that way. This, I am afraid to say friends, is one of them.