Chapter 24
A/N: CressidaRene's valiant PC has had an apocalyptic experience with a nasty virus. Hence, this chapter is not yet beta'd. Once her support troops (i.e. computer techs) emerge victorious against the invading horde, I may edit this chapter. If I do so, I will put add an author's note in a later chapter to let you know. There is a 50-50 chance that I will post Ch.25 sometime before New Year's. Considering how Ch.24 ends, that fast posting is fueled by a strong survival instinct. But then, Ch.25's ending might not be much better ... oh dear ... I really must stop these cliffy endings. ]:D
To all the fans of RotFH both old and new, a safe and enjoyable holiday season from Meer-heika and CressidaRene.
In a locked sub-dungeon cell deep in the bowels of Hogwarts, Yoruichi Shihoin pushed against the runed collar with her hind legs. The odds of her slipping out of the magical restraint were almost nil, but what other choice did she have? The band moved only so far before it subjected her to intense nerve stimulation. Every effort to thrust through the pain failed. Her skull, even in cat form, was too large to slip through the ring.
Damn it. That Dumbledore bastard forced me into cat form. He says he's locked me in it and won't release unless I tell him everything he wants to know. I might not believe a word either he or Snape says, but do I dare risk changing back to human, only to find that the band won't grow with me?
The former head of the Shihoin clan, one of the Four Noble Houses of Soul Society, gave up trying to escape the too-tight collar and inventoried the rest of her body. Short black fur lay flat against her body, matted and sticky along her flanks. Repeated jets of salt water left her golden eyes red and swollen. Sensitive ears hummed from prolonged high-frequency assaults, while the violent removal her left foreclaws made walking difficult.
Most vexing of all had been the flea infestation. Yoruichi had writhed across the floor and rubbed against every possible surface, including floor, furnishings and walls, desperate to dislodge even a portion of the pests. She'd scratched her skin raw, frenzied by the feel of a hundred tiny bugs burrowing into her skin. Clumps of short, black fur littered the room in ragged, bloody clumps. The burning itch drove her nearly insane.
The torture did have one bright spot. Conjured or not, the fleas remained true to their nature. Some of them abandoned the cat and attacked the wizards. By the third bite, Dumbledore spelled every one of them away.
Still, compared to Captain Hitsugaya, I have nothing to complain about.
The black cat turned towards her cell mate. Toshiro Hitsugaya lay four feet away, a crumpled heap on the blood-slick floor. His breathing was harsh, shallow, and staggered, with ominous pauses between. Despite the prevailing chill of their prison, his body no longer shivered. Part of that might be his affinity for cold, but Shihoin doubted it.
The black cat limped across the distance and laid a bloody paw atop his hair, one of the few places on his body free from abuse. She could escape it nowhere in the cell, but this close, the fetid stink of violent injury overpowered her feline senses.
"Toshiro? Can you hear me?"
The white-haired captain moaned and shifted but did not wake. He murmured beneath his breath, wheezing noises that might be mistaken for speech.
"Come ... death." Yoruichi could barely make out the young shinigami's words. "Ready ... to die."
"Damn it, Hitsugaya! Don't you give up on me now!" the cat said aloud, though her companion was too traumatized to understand. "You have to keep fighting. You don't want all this to have been for nothing, do you?"
Shihoin spent the next hour repeating endless encouragements to a body that, in all likelihood, could not hear them. She sang and hummed. Her voice grew hoarse and her throat dry, but Yoruichi refused to fall silent. Ignoring her own pain, the werecat stropped his body (wherever she could do so without encountering a serious wound) and rubbed his face and hair with her forehead. A pleasant tactile sensation might reach him where sounds failed.
Driven by an unacknowledged fear, Yoruichi refused to surrender: the instant she stopped talking, his life force would slip away.
This far beneath the castle, no sound carried from outside, even to a cat's sensitive ears. Yoruichi's reaper senses, however, perceived a distant flare of reiatsu from multiple sources. To feel the noticeable thickening of air pressure this far away meant more than one captain-level shinigami. With effort, she separated out the two most recognizable―Byakuya Kuchiki's and Ichigo Kurosaki's. Several others were not familiar, but she detected Jushiro Ukitake and Shunsui Kyoraku, as well.
"Toshiro, do you feel it? They're here. Byakuya ... Ichigo ... the other shinigami are here!" The injured captain did not respond. As far as she could tell, he wasn't aware of the reiatsu-laden atmosphere. "Hold on, do you hear me? It's almost over. Hold on a little while longer."
"H ... Hyo ... rin ... maru."
"Yes. They'll have brought Hyorinmaru with them. You'll be back with him soon. Just ... hold on ... a little while longer."
()()()()
Face contorted in venomous satisfaction, Severus Snape watched the magical fire, the hottest he could create outside of true fiendfyre, consume the grove of 200-year-old scots pine trees and their tangled undergrowth. If he ever admitted responsibility, the other teachers would berate him for their destruction. He would ignore their meaningless ire, same as always.
The wizard savored the well-earned aroma of victory. He relished the cloying stench of charred wood, sterilized ash, boiled resin, and sooty smoke. He admired the embers that floated on super-heated updrafts until they faded into dead, grey motes. The results of his conflagration added to the already noxious reek that blanketed the grounds.
Quite certain that he'd destroyed his enemy, the potions master slashed his wand through the air and crowed, "I did it. Yes! I did it!"
"Did you?" A droll voice whispered. "I think not."
Severus whirled and stared, eyes wide and jaw loose. The arrogant pseudo-wizard stood less than two feet away, the barest hint of a smile on an otherwise barren expression.
Snape's eyes flew up and down. He took in every aspect of the stranger's appearance, from his long black hair and grey (almost black) eyes to his outlandish foreign clothing. A pale, sissified scarf circled his throat and rested on his shoulders. Girlish, beveled white barrettes either held his hair away from his face or directed three thin locks forward and over his forehead. At some point, the foreigner had removed the blood from his face.
The swarm of petal-shaped projectiles was gone. In its place once more was a narrow steel blade attached to a royal-blue-and-gold hilt held in a half-gloved hand.
The potions professor desperately sought any evidence of damage or injury. He found not one speck of soot or a single pine needle. The white, toed socks worn inside woven sandals remained pristine. Other than a few blood drops on his shoulder and the previously singed hem of his white outer robe, Snape saw no signs of battle.
"How ... how did you ... how could you possibly have survived?"
His enemy replied in the driest possible monotone, "Magic, of course."
Teeth bared in derision, Snape said, "You're lying. My experiments have proved that. You're like that stubborn creature locked away beneath the castle. You're nothing more than a semi-intelligent beast with the power to speak. Not a ghost, but some kind of spirit that can take solid form, or you may be a demonic parasite that can slide into an artificial body. Perhaps you're both. None of you are remotely human. Whatever power you possess cannot be called 'magic'."
"As you seem so knowledgeable about my kind, what would you call it if not magic?"
"I can't say what it is," Snape admitted, a gnarl in his gut, "but I can definitely say what it is not."
"You curse us as inhuman, yet you have neither thought nor care for the creatures who called that grove home. You killed all but one lone animal with a single spell," he waved towards something behind the potion master's back, "for no other reason than to destroy me."
Snape followed the languid gesture. Twelve feet away, a thestral filly alternately reared and pawed the ground. The skeletal black equinoid trumpeted in pain, the tip of her left wing weeping and raw, clear proof of exposure to the flames.
This sanctimonious bastard has more snobbish airs than Lucius Malfoy! He doesn't care for any mindless beast. His holier-than-thou attitude is nothing more than an arrogant pretense!
"Who the hell are you to lecture me on anything?" Severus demanded.
"I am Byakuya Kuchiki, head of the Kuchiki Clan, one of four noble houses in my homeland. I claim a heritage graced by generations of highborn ancestry. Can you say the same, wizard?"
"I don't care whether you're a royal ass or the offspring of a toothless hag. You'll never set one foot inside Hogwarts, 'Bee-yah-keeu-yah.' I'll see you in hell first!"
"I've been there, actually, on numerous occasions. This one time, I will leave the journey to you." Kuchiki held three fingertips close to the golden barrier. "Perhaps I can speed you on your way."
"What are you―"
"Tsuzuri raiden."
Bolts of yellow-white lightning as wide around as Snape's wrists slithered over and into his golden safeguard. The unfamiliar effect destroyed anything it touched, including the grass, pebbles, and soil beneath the bubble. As the shield sank inch by inch into the slowly disintegrating ground, the magic of Hogwarts struggled to regenerate his damaged defense field. The unfamiliar curse ate through the barrier faster than the castle's magic could repair it.
The wizard's feet, where they rested on the shield, burned from contact with the electrically heated dome. The soles of his boots smoldered.
It's too powerful, Snape accepted with bitter reluctance. The protection won't hold. I have to dispel the shield before the electrical charge gets through and burns me to a crisp.
Both shield and devouring curse vanished in a riot of multicolored ribbons. On the upside, dispersing the shield before the foreigner's spell fully penetrated cancelled both magics. This freed Severus from the immediate threat of electrocution. On the downside, he no longer held any protections other than those he could cast for himself.
Kuchiki whispered, "Kongobaku." A massive red energy sphere shot across the distance that separated them.
Snape cast a frantic, "Protego prima!"
Other than to cast his strongest personal shield, Severus Snape could only brace for impact.
()()()()
"There you go." The kido flow from Jushiro Ukitake's hands faded away. "It's certainly not the finest healing ever attempted, but it should hold until Healer Yamada can use his zanpakuto's healing ability to finish the job."
Anissina DuLay smiled her gratitude and accepted his help back to her feet. Avalon's primary healer swayed due to a moment's dizziness, her already pale complexion lightening even further, before she smiled once more and recovered her equilibrium. Once more steady on her feet, the elfin healer wiped trash from her hands, straightened the long, sun-gold braids that hung down her front, and dislodged debris from her short white coat, green linen shirt and trousers.
"Thank you for your help, Captain Ukitake." Doe-brown eyes glistened. "It was most appreciated."
Captain Sigursdottur turned away from her battle with trio of stone automatons―an oversized badger, a centaur, and an abstract figure that vaguely resembled a four-legged walrus―long enough to ask, "Nissa, are you certain ... ?"
"I'm fine, Aina. The wound is closed enough that I don't fear further loss of blood," she replied, evidenced by the return of color to her face. "Now that we have other reapers to provide protection, I would welcome Captain Ukitake's help with the other knights' more serious injuries. Healer Yamada's injuries need tending, as well."
"Hnnn." The leader of Avalon's Strength-based Battle and Patrol Group looked unconvinced but turned back to the task at hand. She demolished the stone trio then flash-stepped away to help the Soul Society lieutenant with the pineapple topknot deal with another clump of animated figures.
"Ow ow owowowow." Hanataro Yamada rolled off his back and onto wobbly knees, holding his aching head. "Itai."
Captain DuLay's glowing hand hovered over the bloody section of the younger healer's scalp. "It's a small cut. Surface bleeding only. No sign of concussion. You'll be fine."
Pain lines vanished from the boy's face. "Thank you, DuLay-taicho."
"Hanataro!" Rangiku Matsumoto rushed to the first aid area. She gushed over the young healer, going so far as to crush his face into her more than ample bosom. "I'm so glad you're alright."
"Mmmmky,ltnnnt,m'm," Hanataro mumbled, his words lost in the smothering embrace. His arms pinwheeled even as every visible inch of skin steamed with embarrassment.
"Hey, Rangiku!" Ichigo called from above, his voice heavy with relief that, in turn, spawned a moment's levity. "You might want to let him breathe."
"Awwwww, Ichigooooo," Rangiku whined even as she released her 'captive.' "There's no harm in a friendly hug."
"You do realize, your hugs have a habit of cutting off the huggee's air supply?"
"Air is overrated, don't you think?"
Though his face still flamed, Hanataro remained professional enough to note an injury that required attention. "B-b-before you go back, Matsumoto-fukutaicho, let-let me tend that arm."
"Thanks, Hanataro, but save your skills for the seriously wounded." Matsumoto studied the bleeding gash along her left forearm, a finger-long gift from an animated swordsman. "This can wait until there are no more of these freakish things to fight."
From his place beside a wounded knight, Captain Ukitake answered with one word, softly spoken. "Lieutenant."
Defeated by a three syllables, Rangiku bowed her head and held out her arm. Ukitake offered one of his most endearing grins and left Hanataro Yamada to his work.
Again proving to have no compunction against attacking noncombatants, Albus Dumbledore distracted Kurosaki with a storm of flaming hailstones then aimed a bludgeoning hex straight at the healer's area. Ichigo demolished the hailstorm with a single arc of reiatsu energy channeled through and amplified by his zanpakuto. He pushed off the air and raced forward, intent on intercepting the attack.
Without so much as looking up, the female shinigami called out, "Growl, Haineko!"
A cloud of fine ash exploded off the hilt attached to her obi. Before the spell could connect, the ash condensed into a scoop-shape. The instant the light struck the inside of the bowl, Haineko swelled forward to complete the circle. The ball warped, crunched and compacted. The grit reformed into two ghostly hands that swiped together as if to say "that's that." Its task complete, the zanpakuto returned to its sealed form.
Ichigo cursed and stumbled to a graceless halt, his help not needed.
Not accustomed to active combat situations, Hanataro Yamada offered a shaky snicker but kept his attention on the task at hand. With trembling hands, he drew his zanpakuto, Hisagomaru, and rested its flat side against a dirt-smudged but undamaged section of Matsumoto's arm. Red smoke rose from the rapidly healing wound (as well as every other fresh bruise or cut) and flowed into the sword. A red power gauge along the blade inched up slightly.
Rangiko rubbed her fingertips across where the cut once marred her skin. Feeling not even the slightest hint of injury or scarring, she nodded thanks and said, "Excellent work, Healer Yamada, as always."
"Physical injuries are easy enough to heal, especially minor ones that this," Hanataro said as he wiped sweat and blood off his forehead. "It's the magic-based wounds that resist. Now if you will please excuse me, I'll go and heal DuLay-taicho's injury."
The young healer bowed and hurried off.
Ichigo settled on the ground next to Rangiku. No sooner had his feet touched earth than a line-drive swing of Zangetsu's blade intercepted another trebuchet-cast boulder. Without so much as a glance toward the old wizard, he said with a smile of chagrin, "So much for saving a damsel in distress."
Rangiku laughed and gave the teenager a playful wink through lowered lashes.
"This 'damsel' doesn't need saving, but thanks anyway. Don't worry. Nothing's going to happen to me until I get Hitsugaya-taicho back safe and sound." Her response to Dumbledore wasn't anywhere near as flirtatious. For a person with a perpetually bubbly personality, Rangiku Matsumoto could display incredible loathing and contempt. "You really like taking potshots at people when their backs are turned. Is that how you've hoodwinked all these people into thinking you've hung the moon? Everything's done behind their backs so they never see what you're doing?"
()()()()
This is ridiculous. Daniel Gilbreathe deflected a spell with the wavy blade of his flamberge and continued to scold himself. I'm a Captain of Avalon. I have more power in my left big toe than both of them combined. Dragging out this fight is idiotic in the extreme. Why am I so reluctant to go on the offensive?
Teines Sionnach's chirpy voice replied inside his head, Don't hurry on my account. I'm having fun. It's been a long time since I've played 'catch.' They're keeping my on my paws, that's for sure.
Don't get cocky, fox-face, the reaper captain warned. The instant you do, we're in trouble.
Grrrr-yip! If you're so afraid of them, the fox spirit asked with a teasing lilt, why don't you do something more than stand there, taking what they're giving?
Daniel replied, I'm not battle-hardened like Aina or a master of kido like Armand. I'm a researcher, a scientist. I think. I solve things. Except for mindless Hollows and a few other, very rare circumstances, every situation can and should be resolved without violence. A fight means someone didn't try hard enough to reach a peaceful solution.
That's where we disagree, I suppose.
The blue-flame personification of Daniel's spirit sword pounced on a ball of light. Fox jaws snapped closed on the spell, shredding it back to nothing. Voicing a delighted fox-bark, flaming tail in constant motion, Teines Sionnach sprang off to catch yet another spell.
Daniel couldn't stop an amused chuckle. You like to argue, silly fox. You don't need a reason.
Yip!
The red-haired woman railed, temper in full steam, "Stop toying with us and fight back!"
"I don't dare," Daniel Gilbreathe replied. "I've only reached my current level of ... magical power quite recently. I'm not used to restricting the strength of my attacks. I don't want to hurt either of you so please, please, can we not fight?"
The answering volley tested the blue-flame fox's ability to absorb or deflect. The red-headed pair fought well together, understandable when Gilbreathe realized they were long-time mates. They were fast learning how to counter his defenses, attacking with different spells from opposite directions. Defense became harder with every passing minute.
A half-hearted "Barrage" aimed a flurry of reiatsu spikes at the ground in front of the wizard and witch. The threat drove them back long enough to give Daniel a moment's respite.
"Mon ami." Gilbreathe turned to see Captain Rousseau slightly behind and to his right. The elder captain's trident spear rested casually against his shoulder. "You cannot allow yourself ze luxury of delay. You must eizehr fight to win or step aside for someone else."
"I know. It's just ... they're innocent. They don't know everything that's happened or who has done what. They're fighting to protect their children. How can I fault them ... how can I punish them for that?"
"I understand your thoughts, Daniel, but look around. Except for Capitan Kuchiki and zee boy, the ozzers have fineeshed weeth all zee living defenders."
"Are we in some kind of a race?" Helpless frustration increased the rancor in Gilbreathe's response. Distracted by his conflicted thoughts, the Gilbreathe swatted away a red beam more from instinct than from conscious attention to the fight at hand. "A contest to see who can defeat their enemies first? Bonus points for an extra-hard smackdown?"
"Do not put words into my mouth zat are not zehr," Rousseau replied. "I say only zat zee battle draws to a close. We must end zees quickly, recover those whom we seek, and leave before ozzer wizards arrive." Indecision clouded the young captain's face. The French reaper closed his eyes and nodded. "Very well. Since you cannot act, I weel."
Armand Rousseau flash-stepped first to the man then to the woman and employed the same sleep incantation used by Shunsui Kyoraku. The kido master gently lowered both unconscious red-heads on the ground, placing them close beside one another. Their wands vanished up the sleeve of his tunic.
The fox manifestation offered a mental hum filled with love and pressed tight against his master's right side, offering what comfort he could.
Daniel Gilbreathe patted the top of the spirit's head, studied the wavy blade of his flamberge and whispered, "I'm not much of a captain, am I, Armand?"
"You are steeel young, mon ami. Your rise from knight to lieutenant to capitan is zee fastest in zee history of Avalon." Rousseau squeezed Gilbreathe's shoulder. "You did thees on your own merits, my friend. You earned your rank. You have much to learn about being a Captain, oui. Zat includes when battle ... when war ... eez unavoidable. Do not be discouraged. All who hold zee rank have gone through zees same learning. It weel come with time."
Daniel stared down at the unconscious couple and sighed. "I suppose."
()()()()
Two voices in unison cried out, "Protego maxima!"
Two more shields formed on top of the potions master's. Byakuya's Kongobaku struck a fraction of a second later. The first protection crumbled in less than two heartbeats, but it slowed the ball of red energy. The middle shield held an additional five seconds before collapsing. The third, Snape's own protego prima, survived long enough for the assault to dissipate.
Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks rushed forward to flank Snape, one on either side. Were it not against his very nature, Severus would have hugged his rescuers. As it was, he growled, "Took you long enough, Shacklebolt."
The tall, bald, black man with a hoop earring and a fierce expression replied, "We were occupied."
"Wotcher, Snape!" The short, slender girl, her pink hair streaked with purple and green highlights, bounced on the balls of her feet. She slapped the potions master on the back, uncaring of the offended glare he sent her way. "Buck up. We're here now, so let's take him down and go help Professor Dumbledore."
"I see you have reinforcements," Kuchiki commented. "It matters little in the scheme of things. Whether I face one, three or ten, I will win."
"You talk big, Mister Tall, Dark and ... Rather Handsome―" the girl flushed and hurriedly corrected herself, "―I mean ... Stone-Faced ... but against a dueling master and two aurors, you don't stand a snowball's chance."
()()()()
"Damn it! There has to be a way to get through this old fart's defenses without bringing down the castle!"
Headmaster Albus Dumbledore could understand the boy's frustration. The Leader of the Light looked ragged and tired, and felt even worse. He'd endured sustained combat with a powerful enemy. The boy's ability to weigh down the air sapped a large portion of his strength. The physical assaults, though unable to pierce his Hogwarts shield, threw Dumbledore around within its confines.
One particularly hard blow had knocked the old wizard against the school's main doors. The back of his head still ached from the impact.
Around and behind him, the grand façade of the school bore the marks of battle. Long gouges caused by the boy's energy attacks marred the stonework as high up as three stories. Creeping ivy burned. Huge chunks of stone had been blasted from the railings, steps and landings. One of the two main Hogwarts doors lay somewhere in the front entry hall, blasted to wooden splinters and metal shards by the boy's powerful attacks.
The grounds themselves, once lush, green and peaceful, more closely resembled an exploded minefield like the ones he'd seen while fighting against Grindelwald during the mid-1940's. Mounds of disturbed earth made it difficult to walk in any direction. Patches of spilled blood were rare and seemed evenly divided between wizard and intruder. Noisome air shared atmosphere with a heavy particulate haze, unable to disperse due to the activated dome. Burned, frozen, cracked, smashed, slashed, pulverized, or transfigured detritus lay as far as the eye could see. Alastor Moody's ice prison served as a perfect centerpiece to the tableau.
The strangers' bizarre powers overwhelmed the magic-users. As few as 75 automated figures remained out of nearly 600. Severus Snape, Kingsley Shacklebolt and Nymphadora Tonks fought one enemy. As Albus watched, Arthur and Molly Weasley fell. The male with the long white hair had encased Alastor Moody in a block of solid ice that refused to melt despite Albus' strongest efforts. Faculty and Order members alike were bound and secured. Injuries disabled five of the enemy―lower-powered subordinates, if he guessed correctly. Three others sported wounds but were still active.
Except for the orange-haired teenager and the one fighting Severus, the rest protected the first aid area, guarded their prisoners, or dealt with the last unliving defenders.
One of the younger invaders, the one with the tattoos and strange red hair, said to his companion, "You're a wimp, you know that? If he's giving you that much trouble, ask for help."
"Stay out of this, Renji. There must be a way to end this, and damn it to hell, I will find it!" To Dumbledore himself, the youth said, "That last cheap shot was it, old man. No more."
In answer, Albus replied, "I do what I must to protect my school and my people."
More than one invader snorted in disbelief, the buxom woman strongest of all. "I'm sure someone, somewhere, believes that. We certainly don't."
I have to end this soon or I'll lose everything. I never would have believed it, but I stand a very real chance of falling to a beardless boy with a sword that casts a single spell. If even one of the others joins in, my defeat is certain. I won't let that happen!
"Look around, old man." The boy with the spiky orange hair waved towards a transparent box made of pale blue light. The structure encased every captured witch and wizard. Inside its confines, all other forms of restraint had been removed, which provided a clue to the "stockade's" strength. "The last of these freakish statues will be dust inside five minutes. As soon as Byakuya finishes playing with your friends over there, the only one still standing ... will be you."
()()()()
A silver phoenix patronus flowed over to Severus Snape. He alone heard its ethereal message.
"Severus. We can't win this battle. We don't know enough about their fighting abilities to counter them effectively. Bring the prisoners to the front steps. We'll use them as hostages to force these people to surrender."
As the patronus dissipated, Snape whispered close to Shacklebolt's ear. "Albus needs me. If you can't defeat him, at least keep him occupied."
The big auror nodded. Shacklebolt cast a specific hand signal combination to Tonks, who bobbed an acknowledgment. In unison, the aurors bombarded their opponent with every possible hex, curse, jinx and charm. The foreigner wove between the attacks, blocked, deflected, or simply leaned out of the way. Even so, the mishmash of lights, sounds, smells, and movement momentarily blinded him.
Shielded from view, Severus Snape cast his strongest invisibility charm, the same one he'd used while stalking the homunculus back in London. By the time Byakuya Kuchiki could see through the magical salvo, Severus Snape had vanished from sight.
()()()()
Something flashed red high in the sky. Albus Dumbledore looked up as Fawkes spiraled down from the Headmaster's Tower.
"Fawkes! We need to buy time, just a few minutes! Do what you can to distract the boy!"
The phoenix circled around the old wizard's head and warbled a short note. Put together with a firm shake of the magical avian's plumed head, the sound clearly said, no. The phoenix landed atop one of the larger boulders, wings tucked against his side.
Dumbledore stared in disbelief. "You're my familiar. I command you. Attack!"
Fawkes flared his wings, lifted his head, and sang.
For the first time in his life, Albus Dumbledore experienced the full force of his familiar's power. Every note, every trill and descant, slashed his soul. Pure light laid bare every weakness, every selfish desire, every cruel memory, every black fantasy, no matter how deeply he'd buried it inside his subconscious mind. Dumbledore screamed and writhed but could not escape.
Across the battlefield, the melody roused everyone who had been stunned or sent into unconsciousness, protector and invader alike. Every Hogwarts defender shrank from the pure refrain. Strength flowed away like water through a sieve. A sense of foreboding descended, along with an overwhelming urge to weep in shame.
Conversely, every reaper felt rejuvenated to a near-miraculous degree. Tired muscles relaxed, spirits lifted, and hope renewed. Reiatsu flared in solidarity, thickening the air with a promise of strength.
"Fawkes! How dare you disobey me!" the Headmaster cried, too infuriated to recognize the significance of the phoenix's song or to notice the reactions of his subordinates. He was too angry to hear, let alone comprehend, the light creature's final, desperate plea for restraint. "Traitor!"
Fawkes sang his grief at the loss of his bonded human's unsullied spirit. Phoenix tears fell like pearlescent dew, shimmering against his scarlet and gold plumage.
()()()()
A furious "Glacialis draconis" aimed at the portrait of Relinda the Recluse allowed passage to the sub-dungeon cells. Guided by a "lumos" light on the tip of his wand, Severus Snape stormed down the narrow conduit, incensed beyond the point of sanity. Heavy breathing and limping footfalls rebounded off the walls in cadence with his throbbing temper.
How can it have gone so damnably pear-shaped in such a short amount of time? One hour ago, the Headmaster and I held the power. We controlled everything. We had two possible sources of information and ... we thought ... sufficient time to plan for any contingency.
Now ... damn each and every one of them to hell, that arrogant Kuchiki bastard most of all! They won't win. Dumbledore ... *I* ... won't let them! If I have to kill the prisoners and eradicate every trace of their presence, so be it!
As the door to the lower level swung open, Snape banked the fires of his rage and seriously considered his options.
Albus wants them brought to the surface to use as hostages. That move could backfire, especially if any Hogwarts staff or Order members see what's happening. Unless they're all unconscious, this is bound to be the case. It would mean careful obliviation of everyone except Albus, Moody, and me. We could do it, without question. It would require more than simply erasing their memories, the way Albus did with the Potter brat last Sunday. We must create new ones to explain the damage and injuries without revealing the truth. The trick would be to make the memory both seamless and believable, yet compatible with everyone else's artificial memory. Should anyone compare notes, a single discrepancy could ruin everything.
The more I think about it, there's only one logical choice. The smart move would be to wipe away all trace of the prisoners and claim innocence. It would be their word against ours. Even if they dared protest to the Ministry, the Wizengamot would take Dumbledore's side against an unknown, foreign agency with no influence in the magical world. The resulting fallout might be unpleasant, particularly amongst our opponents in the ICW, but the Headmaster and I can handle whatever damage control is needed.
My main concern is how this morning's debacle will affect our war against the Dark Lord. Whatever we do, we cannot give him any more power than he has already taken for himself.
A sharp "Nox" deactivated the lumos. With a jerky, wordless wave of his wand, the cell door opened. The potions master stepped through the portal.
Back arched, ears flat, and head down, the black werecat stood in a protective stance between him and the unconscious "boy." Threat rose from her in waves and might have been somewhat intimidating except for one thing: favoring her left foreleg spoiled the image.
"Oh, please," the wizard groaned, "surely you don't think you can scare me away. I am not impressed. Professor McGonagall in cat form presents a greater threat. You can't even stand on all fours."
"I don't need to scare you," Yoruichi Shihoin replied. "I just need to hold out for a few minutes."
Curious despite himself, Severus asked, "Really? Then what will happen?"
"Our friends will come."
Professor Snape barked a vindictive laugh.
"If by some miracle they reach the upper dungeons," the professor scoffed, "they can't open the passage. Even if they did manage it, I would obliterate all signs that you were ever here long before they accessed this level." His deep, silky voice dripped venom. "Let them whine to the Ministry all they like. No one could prove a thing."
"That won't stop them." Yoruichi held her place between the wizard and the helpless shinigami. "Judging by your injuries and damaged clothing, you've met at least one of them. Do you think they're afraid of your Ministry?"
"No, and that is the only reason you're still alive," Snape replied, his expression hard and cruel. "Were this a wizarding attack force, I would not hesitate to vanish every cell of your body, scourgify the room and recreate its original, dust-filled state." Snape sneered even more. "However, this is not a wizarding force. Thanks to your obstinancy, and that of the brat lying behind you, they are an unknown entity."
"You're here for a reason. What is it?"
"Albus wants me to bring you to the front steps to use as hostages."
The cat tilted her head to the side. "You sound like you're against the idea."
"I am. The work required to tamper with the memories of every witness far outweighs any advantage."
"So...what do you plan to do?"
"What I must."
The cat shifted her weight onto all four paws, even though it had to hurt due to the violent removal of her left foreclaws. Hind legs tensed and braced, ears flat and eyes narrowed, the werecat crouched low to the floor, a warning rumbled low in her throat.
"I'll be damned if I'll just sit here and let you kill us."
The potions master scoffed. "What can a cat do to stop me?"
"This."
With a defiant yowl and all remaining claws extended, the cat powered off the floor and leapt straight for the wizard's face. Severus Snape raised his wand.
()()()()
Okay, direct attacks aren't working, Ichigo strategized, and I can't put much more power into my getsuga tensho without going bankai. Since he's the headmaster of the school, his shield's probably the strongest one. I might can feed all of my reiatsu through Zangetsu, kinda like an attack of last resort, and let go with my strongest blast.
If I aim it right, there shouldn't be too much risk. I can't imagine the kids being anywhere near close enough to be hit. They're either in the towers or locked in some safe room in the middle of the castle, but that's just a guess. Since I don't know for sure, I can't take the chance.
Kurosaki surveyed the extensive damage already inflicted on the structure. Scores, holes and pits scarred the ancient stone, part of the door was missing, and a good 60 percent of the stairs, railing and landings were destroyed. Evidence of deflected spells added to the destruction. The ground between the castle and the entry gates was even worse. If it weren't for Ichigo's ability to walk on air using pressurized reiatsu, the sheer amount of debris on the ground would have destroyed any ability to perform precision footwork. With his luck, he'd break an ankle for sure.
Having the high ground helps me evade his attacks, but it doesn't add any advantage to my own. Hacking at the shield is less than useless. Damn it, Ichigo, think! No defense is perfect. There's always a flaw in it somewhere, even if it's tiny. There has to be some clue, some sign of weakness. What is it? What am I missing?
An air cartwheel carried him clear of a nasty lime-green pulse.
"Ask for help already, you moron!"
Ichigo glowered but didn't take his eyes off his opponent. "Shut the hell up and let me think."
"You? Think? Since when?"
"Renji, enough already! I'm fighting here!"
I hate to admit it, but he's right. I could ask for help. That would be the grown-up thing to do. But I'm still kinda new at this substitute soul reaper business. Byakuya Kuchiki already thinks I'm weak. Some of the others do, too. If I back down from one old man, they'll rag me for the next fifty years.
I have the power to break through, I *know* I do. I just have to figure a way to focus ... yes, that might work. I got nothing to lose, so I might as well go for it.
The substitute soul reaper powered forward, Zangetsu's hilt tucked tight against his side, and slammed into Dumbledore's shield with the point of his zanpakuto. The impact shoved the protective bubble against the wall and pinned the wizard in place.
Ichigo fed a steady stream of reiatsu into the sword. Instead of a widespread, uncontrolled release along the entire cutting edge, he narrowed the focus to the tip itself―a "laser" as opposed to his typical "flame thrower." Concentrated power poured off the nib like water from a high-pressure hose. A wall of Ichigo's unique red-and-black spiritual pressure warped the air in a ragged circle and obscured everyone's view of Albus Dumbledore.
They might not be able to see him, but they could hear him.
"Diffindo!"
Ichigo braced, expecting to take a direct hit. The power wall took the spell. Nothing got through.
"Petrificus totalis! Confundo!"
Spell after spell struck the roiling obstruction. Not one managed to penetrate.
A flash thinning of the wall gave Kurosaki a moment's view of his enemy. The wizard held his wand flush against the barrier, over the exact same spot as Zangetsu's point, and cast, "Expulso!"
The sword vibrated. The reiatsu backlash bulged. Dumbledore put every bit of his power into the spell, but Zangetsu did not explode. Ichigo roared and pushed more power through his weapon. Fine cracks appeared in a snowflake pattern where blade touched barrier.
"Cave inimicum!" Dumbledore cast in desperation, hoping to reinforce the inside of the golden shield.
Ichigo strained against the added resistance. Another crack formed then another and another. A smattering of fractures ate away at Dumbledore's final protection.
With the increased pressure, it became hard to breathe. Behind Kurosaki, Avalon and Soul Society reapers backed away until only Jushiro Ukitake, Anissina DuLay, and Hanataro Yamada were within twenty feet of him.
A silver bat made from smoke flowed through Dumbledore's shield.
()()()()
"Ow! Bloody hell!" the young witch with the pink, spiked hair yelped and jumped half out of her skin, one hand on her backside. "Shack, did you see? That thestral bit me on the arse!"
"Pay attention to what you're doing," her companion commanded, "or teeth marks on our bum will be the least of your worries. This man will take you out the instant you give him an opening."
"It seems that we understand one another," Byakuya Kuchiki said.
The young witch tried to obey, but the adolescent thestral darted close once again, looking to take another bite. The female auror swatted the filly's nose and hissed, "Go away, shoo! Bloody hell, I thought thestrals were sweet as bunnies. This one's acting like she's been starvin' for a week and my arse is a prime steak. If I didn't know better, I'd think she's trying to help this guy!"
Byakuya watched the woman dart around, her attention only half on the battle in front of her. Though in all honesty, if something wanted to bite his hindquarters, he would be equally distracted. Swift application of Senbonzakura's blade, either sealed or shikai, would take care of the irritant in short order, but he could still empathize. To a minute degree. Very minute.
The witch tried to chase the equinoid away. She tripped over a patch of overturned ground and landed in a full face-plant, her shapely rump stuck straight up in the air.
The shinigami captain had to ask, "Are all wizard duels this ... ludicrous?"
"With Tonks around ..." The big man's ending sigh spoke volumes.
The female auror sat up, spat grass and dirt from her mouth, and protested, "Oi!"
"I do not wish to harm you," Captain Kuchiki tried one last time to reason with the duo. "Lay down your weapons."
"I don't know who you are or what you hope to gain by attacking Hogwarts," the wizard said, "but we can't surrender to you."
"Did you not hear your leader's own words? He admits to holding two of our people captive beneath this very castle."
The woman shot back, "I don't believe it!"
"And the melody we just heard?" Kuchiki asked. "I assume it has meaning for you, as it did for me. Your facial expressions and body language both indicated a rather strong reaction. A negative one, most certainly. Tell me, what did you feel?"
The witch shuddered and climbed back to her feet. "I don't know why Fawkes would ... there has to be some reason. There's no way Professor Dumbledore would do something as evil as what you're sayin'."
"The proof is in his own words, spoken less than an hour ago. The four who joined him on the steps can confirm everything."
"I said, I don't believe you!"
"That is your right. My right, however, is to overcome you by whatever means necessary. Like your own, our magical society is protected through stealth and secrecy. We cannot ... we will not ... allow it to be threatened by Albus Dumbledore's thirst for power. If you will not surrender, you leave me no choice." The Squad 6 captain raised his zanpakuto. "Scatter, Sen―"
Dumbledore's magically amplified voice interrupted every activity. "Boy, stop your attack and back away. All of you! Lay down your weapons, now, unless you wish harm to befall your friends."
As one, Byakuya and his opponents faced the main steps. Across the school grounds, reapers and wizards did the same.
The first thing Kuchiki noted was Ichigo Kurosaki in close quarter attack against the Headmaster's Hogwarts shield. From what he could see, the barrier was seconds away from failing. As he watched, Kurosaki stared at something behind Dumbledore, inside the building. The boy snarled and withdrew both his power and his combat position.
Severus Snape stepped into view. Toshiro Hitsugaya dangled across his left arm, a pathetic figure, ragdoll limp and unresponsive, barely recognizable beneath the wounds and blood. An equally motionless black cat draped the wizard's right arm. Vague sunlight, filtered through the battle haze, reflected off a silver ring around Yoruichi Shihoin's throat. Similar bands encircled Toshiro Hitsugaya's neck, wrists, and ankles.
Snape held the tip of his wand tight against the diminutive captain's filthy white hair.
"Shack, how ... this can't be real ... can it?" The big wizard ground his teeth together and lowered his wand. "Why would the Headmaster threaten a cat ... and ... and the other" The young witch covered her mouth to contain the urge to retch. Her hair turned an unpleasant shade of puke-green that matched her complexion. "He's a little boy. A child. What has ... what has Snape done to him?"
"He's been tortured," Byakuya Kuchiki removed the wand from the witch's trembling hand, "over the course of five days."
The black man, Shack, handed over his wand without protest.
Albus Dumbledore's voice carried through the stunned silence. "As you can see, we hold the final pawns. You will give to me every confiscated wand and lay your weapons on the ground at the base of the stairs. Failure to follow these instructions will result in further harm to your companions."
"Damn you!" Kurosaki snarled, Zangetsu pointed directly at the wizard's heart. "This is low, even for a bastard like you!"
"Let me be quite clear regarding this situation," Dumbledore said. His voice carried to every ear, but his eyes remained fixed on the substitute soul reaper. "There can be no misunderstanding. Should even one of you resist, we will kill both hostages."
()()()()
Final A/N: Oh yeah. One more thing. This chapter is nearly 7,600 words long. Enjoy your pressie!