A/N: Well here it is, the beginning of the end. Things kick off big style, and I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it. Chapter thirty might be a while coming; I'm going on holiday and as such will have no internet to post updates. Expect the next chapter in a month at least.

I hope you enjoy it, and please review!

A/N 2 (19/7/09) – Oh god, how embarrassing. Misspelled Fidelius as "Fidelus" in this whole chapter. Thanks to "Stalker of Stories" for pointing this out, it's been amended.

Chapter 29 – Inheriting the Earth

"Well, its time. Let's head out."

Harry and Sirius beckoned to the soldiers, and as one they stole down the hill, Harry and Sirius casting disillusionment spells on them all on the way. They quickly reached the graveyard, and vaulted the low stone wall surrounding it; Harry told them to spread out and look for "Riddles". The sky darkened as they searched, and a faint mist began to set in, before one soldier called that he had found the grave of Riddle Senior. Harry jogged over, Sirius at his side, and adjusted his mask as he peered at the gravestone through the thickening fog.

He remembered that cracked gravestone. He had been tied to it, in the previous timeline... he rubbed his arm, where Wormtail had pierced him with a knife. Over there... he looked at a patch of earth not far from where the group was now huddled – over there Cedric had died, and where he was standing Voldemort had been reborn from that blasted cauldron. Lost in memories for a second, it took a prompting from Sirius for Harry to snap back into action.

"Sorry, I was just thinking. You," he pointed at a hatchet-faced soldier, "check out the other graves. Look for anything unusual."

With that he pulled out his wand and pointed it at the earth in front of Riddle's gravestone, and whispered an incantation. There was a pause, and then a shard of bone, perhaps a femur, shot through the earth and hovered in mid air, where Harry grabbed it. The soldiers blinked but said nothing, knowing better than to ask.

"Sir," the soldier Harry had sent to recon the graveyard said, "look at the other graves. The grass on them is brand new, compared to the rest of the graveyard. Looks unusual."

Harry nodded at him and examined the other graves. He was right, the grass was completely fresh, and a different length. Harry's blood ran cold, and he cast a couple of spells to make sure.

The graves were empty. All of them, bar some Riddle graves. Voldemort had evidently made some Inferi.

"Warn the Ministry, Voldemort has made Inferi out of the bodies that were here," he said to Sirius, who nodded and pulled out a communicator disc from his robes – similar to the slates Harry and Dumbledore had, but with picture. He cast an orange spell at the disc, and raised his eyebrows when it didn't work.

"Apparently, no one's home. That can't be good, Harry."

"Could be the interference from the mansion's Fidelius. We'll break that and try again," Harry said, before gesturing to the disillusioned group to move onwards, towards the small hill where the Mansion was built. As they approached the bottom of the hill, Harry raised a barely-visible arm for them to stop, and cast a small unobtrusive blue spell straight ahead. The spell streaked forward silently for a few feet, before vanishing abruptly. Harry nodded to himself.

"We're at the edge of the Fidelius." He said to the group. Sirius, come here with me. I'm going to try to knock it down.

"What do you need me to do? And will it hurt?"

"This is going to take a lot of power, and might hurt us a lot. But I think with this," he waved the bone he had taken, "and this," he pulled out the marble Portkey from his pocket, "we should be able to do it."

Sirius nodded gingerly, and Harry focused on what he and Dumbledore had worked out. He flicked his wand at the bone, pulverising it instantly into a fine powder, and conjured up a bowl to put the bone-fragments into, along with the small marble Portkey. He whipped his wand back and forth over the clay bowl, mumbling some spells and causing the mixture inside to glow a sickly green, lighting up Harry's disillusioned and masked face. He then levitated the bowl into the air, and hissed a spell to Sirius, telling him to cast it on three.

"One... Two... Three!" he shouted, banishing the bowl at the invisible ward ahead. When the bowl hit the ward, the bone fragments and Portkey spilled out and hit the Fidelius with a blinding green flash, as Harry and Sirius shouted the words to a ward-breaking curse. There was a rumbling boom and a shockwave crashed into the group, and Sirius and the soldiers were knocked off of their feet, with only Harry hanging on, channelling pale blue energy from his wand into the invisible Fidelius ward. He yelled, and his body exploded into magical flames as he began to put everything he had into the spell. The blue line of magic thickened into a shimmering rope of power, vanishing when it touched the wards.

After three long seconds, there was a sound like breaking glass, and the Riddle Mansion suddenly lit up as it was revealed, with lights coming on in the windows. Harry grunted with the exertion, and the flames around his body died down and vanished. They were left at the foot of the hill leading up to the Riddle Mansion, square in the middle of the main gravel path to the front door. Harry smiled behind his mask. The spell had been weakened severely by the blood magic and the arithmancy involved with the Portkey – it helped that Harry was above average in power, and the Riddle mansion was surrounded on all sides by Muggle technology. Those things tended to weaken wards over time; Riddle must have thought he wouldn't need the Fidelius to last that long. But Harry knew the wards would not be down for long : even he couldn't break a Fidelius permanently. They had twenty minutes, tops.

"Come on," he snapped at the soldiers and Sirius, who were getting up, Sirius swearing to himself as he brushed dirt from his robes. "The Death Eaters would have heard that. Let's go."


The Riddle Mansion

"Did you hear that?" one of the Death Eaters left on guard said, sitting up from where he had been playing cards with the other dozen men.

"What, Alastar?" a werewolf asked, scratching his chin.

"That noise, like a cannon," the Death Eater, Alastar, said, getting up from where they were sitting in the kitchen, and walking over to look out of the window. As he peered through the grimy glass, there was a sound like breaking glass, and the lights in the house dimmed and fizzed.

"... The fuck?" another werewolf said in gravelly tones, knocking back his Firewhiskey. "Let's go to the entrance hall and check it out. Don't want to incur the Dark Lord's wrath."

The rest nodded and slowly got to their feet, downing drinks and grabbing cloaks and masks. They had wanted to be part of the Master's attack on the bloody Muggle-lovers, but guard duty wasn't so bad when there was an extensive alcohol cellar in the Riddle Mansion, which was unwarded. They trudged into the entrance hall of the mansion, and began to assemble. The man who had first noticed a disturbance, a tall thin fellow with greasy hair and a ratty face behind his sleek mask, moved to open the door. As he reached for the handle, there was a noise akin to a shrieking firecracker, and then-

Boom.

The oak front door of the Riddle Mansion exploded with a deafening roar, sending the unfortunate Death Eater flying backwards in a shower of fire and splinters. The man careened into his fellows, knocking them all flat and eliciting yells of pain and shock. As they struggled to recover from the unexpected attack, there was a metallic clink as several mysterious metal canisters flew through the burning ruined door frame. After two long seconds of silence, the grenades detonated in a storm of shrapnel and explosive fury, riddling the Death Eaters with hot metal and sending their bodies flying across the hall, arms and legs akimbo.

One of the guards, a werewolf, found himself shielded from the blast by his fellows, and struggled to his feet when the dust began to settle, scrabbling frantically at his head and groaning in pain as blood leaked from his nose and ears. He wavered for a second where he stood, before drunkenly staggering and collapsing amongst the bodies of his fellows in a cloud of dust and dirt.

Seconds later, there was a muffed shout from outside the mansion and a thunderbolt of flame streaked through the broken splintered door and, lighting up the swirling dust in the air, hit a finely-wallpapered wall. The Fiendfyre screeched and howled on impact, feeding off of the magic in the air, and began to devour the wall with cursed flame, swiftly raising the temperatures to unbearable degrees and cooking the flesh of the Death Eaters.

Outside, Harry Potter watched the fire calmly. He now knew the Mansion was essentially deserted, which could only mean one thing. Riddle had launched his assault. He ignored the silent figures of Sirius and the soldiers standing behind him, and hurled another Fiendfyre curse at the mansion, blowing out a top floor window and starting a second fire. With one last look at the house he turned away and nodded to two of the Muggles, who hefted their backpacks off of their disillusioned shoulders and rummaged around for a pair of explosive charges, which they expertly primed and Harry banished through random windows. After a sort wait, the windows exploded in a tongue of fire and broken, melted glass, and a pair of orange glows shone from the wounded front facade of the Riddle Mansion.

"We're done here," Harry said bitterly. "He's not here. He's attacked, that's why we got no response from the Ministry when you tried, Sirius. I'll go to Hogwarts, with half of the Muggles. Sirius... you go to the Ministry."

Sirius cancelled the disillusionment charms on the group, and gave Harry a hard look.

"Harry," he began, "I... just... be careful."

Harry looked at him and removed his mask, revealing his corpse-white face. He smiled a crooked smile. "I don't think it'd matter either way, Sirius. As Dumbledore would say, this is the point where we have to do what's "right". But thanks. You too."

With that, the two embraced each other for a brief moment, before nodding at their respective groups and priming the Portkeys.

"Sirius," Harry said before they left, putting his black mask back on. "Good bye, and good luck. I'll see you when this is all over."

"Count on it."


Several Minutes Earlier

Eric Munch was having a slow night. As the main Ministry watchwizard for the Atrium, he didn't have much to do when the sun went down and visitors dried up – his shift ended in an hour, thankfully. He had his feet up, and was reading the Prophet, when he heard the ding of the Ministry lift. Glancing behind him, he saw a couple of wizards standing in the life; an Auror, a DMLE worker, and what looked like a secretary. As they were exiting the lift, Eric felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, and a chill run through his body. He glanced back at the Ministry main atrium, with the Fountain of Magical Brethren and the numerous Floo fireplaces, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.

There was a pregnant pause, and Eric began to hear a dull humming in his ears. The wizards who had left the lift were also standing still and looking curiously into the atrium, as though they could sense something was about to happen.

As one, the fireplaces in the Floo grates ignited, illuminating the atrium with an eerie green glow, which sparkled off of the water from the Fountain.

One second passed, and the dull humming grew louder. Eric fumbled for the panic button on the underside of his desk, thinking that this definitely wasn't normal.

One more second passed, and the humming grew into a dull roar, and all of a sudden thick roiling flames spilled out of the fireplaces, engulfing the Atrium in a sea of obscuring green flame, but with no accompanying heat. Eric fell out of his seat, yelling in shock, as the Fountain of Brethren was entirely swallowed by the wall of green fire. A terrible keening shriek echoed throughout the cavernous Atrium, and the green mass of fire intensified for one brief moment, before being swallowed back into the fireplaces as though nothing had happened.

In their place was a sea of bodies. Beautiful women with silvery-blonde hair stood menacingly around the Fountain, flanked by hooded faceless floating figures in tattered robes. Scattered about the crowd were men in black robes and white masks, along with feral, rabid looking men wearing rags. The vast majority, however, were pale-faced corpse-like monstrosities, naked or garbed in rotted clothing. Some were just skeletons, grinning emptily and they all crouched, cat-like, on the floor of the Atrium. Atop the Fountain, a Dementor floated, a pair of arms ending in black blades hanging limply at its sides.

A long, long second passed, as Eric could only stare. Then a rush of piercing cold hit him, and an Inferius, a thin man in a ruined suit who was missing half its face, screamed and leapt an impossible distance across the Atrium. It landed on Eric's desk, still screaming, and seized his terrified head in both hands, before twisting violently and sending the head watchwizard flying backwards with a broken neck. The Death Eaters in the horde of Dark Creatures then acted swiftly, nailing the three shocked wizards who had come in the lift with Killing Curses.

"Secure the Atrium..." Umbra said, floating silently at the head of the group of Dark Creatures. "Seal the grates... we will go in through the Lift..."


Grimmauld Place

Mad-Eye Moody was seated in the kitchen of the Order Headquarters, browsing an interesting Dark Arts grimoire Albus had found for him and scanning the house with his other, magical, eye, when his pocket began to buzz and heat up. Immediately he got to his feet, the book disregarded, and pulled out a small red marble from his pocket, which was vibrating rapidly and giving off waves of warmth.

The Ministry alarms, which the marble had been tied to by Albus, had been activated.

Moody limped swiftly to the door of the kitchen, and brandished his wand, setting off a cannon-like sound, and then silenced the bloody portrait of Black's mother. After several seconds the members of the Order who were staying in the house; Lupin, Tonks, Hestia Jones, Mundungus and some assorted others including the Weasley parents, had assembled in the hallway. Moody examined them all for a moment without speaking.

"Its time," he said gruffly. "He's attacking the Ministry. We're to go and help defend it. Transfigure your robes red so as to blend in with the Aurors, and let's go."

He gave the Order a moment to digest that information, fear appearing on some people's faces, determination on others. After a few seconds of disorganised wand-waving, their robes were all properly transfigured, and Moody tossed them a conjured black rope.

"Portkey," he said shortly. "It'll take us to the DMLE. Good luck everyone. Portus."


"Whats going on?" Kingsley shouted as he entered the Operations room, two minutes after the alarms had sounded. The room was already a whirl of activity, with people activating wards and sending warnings to the outside world. The DMLE, where Kingsley had just come from, was in an uproar as Aurors and DMLE wizards prepared for combat, without knowing what they were fighting. He had seen the Order, a sizable chunk of it, Portkey in just before the wards snapped into place. Reassuring to know that Dumbledore had his back.

"Sir, we have a massive incursion into the Atrium. Everyone in there is dead, and the enemy is currently locking down the Floo system and tampering with the spells on the lift."

Kingsley looked at the scrying screen. Veela, Dementors, Inferi... bugger.

"Get the Unspeakables to the lift. Get them to reroute every destination to the DMLE. We'll funnel them into there and take them on in there."

"I'll get Croaker and his team onto it, sir." The ministry worker said, grateful to have someone who knew what they were doing. "The Minister has been informed, but apparently there is something happening at Hogwarts as well."

Kingsley's blood ran cold; this was You-Know-Who's final gambit, if he was going for the Ministry and Hogwarts at the same time.

"Keep me updated if anything changes," he said, patting the Operations worker on the shoulder. "Good luck."


The DMLE was on the second-highest floor of the Ministry, just underneath the Minister's offices, whereas the Atrium was several levels below. Kingsley utilised his intra-building Portkey, something carried by all Aurors and Unspeakables, to get back up to the DMLE floor quickly, and found a scene much more ordered than when he had left. Moody was working with Dawlish and Scrimgeour to address the Aurors, Order and Hit-Wizards of the regular DMLE, along with several dozen normal Ministry workers who had evidently decided to have a go of it. Moody turned around when Kingsley Portkeyed in, and nodded at him.

"We've sent all non-combatants into the Department of Mysteries," he said to Kingsley. "Half of the Unspeakables, so about a dozen, are working on the Lift, and the other dozen are protecting the innocents. If it all goes to hell they'll blast through the wards and Portkey out, but we need to keep the wards as intact as possible for now. We've got most of the Aurors in; apparently Rufus had a tip off. The rest of them are in Hogwarts... "

"We're funnelling the bastards onto this floor. Its mainly Dark creatures – Veela, Dementors, Inferi, Werewolves. I spotted some Death Eaters on the scrying screen, however." Kingsley replied.

Moody's face darkened. "Right," he said, turning back to the motley group of wizards. "We need to transfigure some defences in here – rock shields, set some traps if you can. The enemy will be coming up through the lift. Voldemort may be with them, he may not be. We just don't know."

Scrimgeour took over. "There is another incursion at Hogwarts. Frankly, we don't know what's happening there. The last thing I heard from the Prime Minister was reports of a pair of giants attacking the Hogsmeade encampment. For now, we need to hold the Ministry, and beat them back. Maybe then we can relieve the people defending Hogwarts. We need to fortify this place; the Aurors will show you what to do."

He signalled to the Auror squad leaders, who turned and began to order around the various wizards. The DMLE was mainly cubicles, with the Auror department and the Hit Wizard department merged together into one large open space. The wizards began to swiftly Vanish the cubicle walls, and in seconds the room was entirely open plan, but littered with desks, wastepaper baskets and other general office detritus.

"Turn the desks into stone walls," Moody barked. "Line 'em up, make defensive lines. Not too many, we need room to manoeuvre. You," he pointed at a gaggle of DMLE Hit Wizards, garbed in their navy blue uniforms in contrast to the scarlet red of the Aurors, "lay some fire hexes around the place. They have Inferi, that'll deter them."

The room was a maelstrom of activity for several minutes, as chunks of marble were moved around and things were vanished and conjured. Eventually, however, a makeshift battle line was created in the cavernous DMLE floor, which was roughly as large as the Hogwarts Great Hall, but without the luxury of an enchanted ceiling or stained glass windows; instead they had the occasional enchanted window dotting the walls in the large square room. The floor was simple wood panelling, and the walls were bland cream plaster. The Ministry didn't bother with aesthetics where it wasn't appreciated.

The defence lines were relatively simple, Moody observed. The Lift opened up on one wall; several fire hexes were glowing orange in the wood panelling nearby, waiting to be activated. The wizards were crouched opposite the Lift behind a dozen chest-high walls of marble and granite, lined up in six ranks of two walls, with an open corridor of space down the middle; the walls were roughly five feet apart, with the divide down the middle about four feet. At Moody's order, the stragglers who were fortifying the walls with spells vaulted over them and crouched, ready to face whatever was going to come out of the Lift.

There weren't many, just over one hundred of them. About half were Aurors, and most of the remainder were Hit Wizards, with some ministry workers mixed in; Moody picked out Perkins from Arthur's department, as well as, unsurprisingly, Barty Crouch, who was looking ready to kill as he crouched next to the Minister.

Moody limped to the nearest wall and stepped over it, next to the Minister and Shacklebolt, who were training their wands on the innocuous golden grille of the Ministry Lift.

"Whatever comes out of that lift," Scrimgeour shouted, "will show you no mercy. But know that, regardless of what happens today, you did your bit to defend the Ministry. Know that-"

He was interrupted by the whirling rush of air that signalled a Portkey – Croaker and ten miscellaneous Unspeakables landed gracefully in the middle of the open area between the defensive walls and lift, dressed in the purple livery of an Unspeakable, having used their intra-Ministry Portkeys.

"We've fixed the Lift's arithmancy, sir," he said, nodding at the Minister. "However, we just detected seven incoming Ministry-approved Portkeys coming from outside. Should we let them in?"

Scrimgeour nodded, knowing it was probably Potter or Black and some Muggles. Croaker waved his wand in a cross-shape, and whispered something under his breath. Several heavily-armed figures materialised, along with one robed figure, and landed in various stages of collapse next to the Unspeakables.

"That's Sirius Black!" Crouch shouted, raising his wand, only to have Scrimgeour push his arm back down.

"He's with us," Scrimgeour said loudly, to some snorts of disbelief. In the desperation of the moment, however, people stayed their hands. Sirius got to his feet, looking slightly dizzy, and helped the Muggle next to him up.

"That was more uncomfortable than normal," he said, to no one in particular.

"The wards kept you in limbo until we decided to let you in," explained Croaker, before the Lift pinged and lit up. Croaker swore under his breath and ushered the Muggles and his Unspeakables to the defensive lines; the Muggles took up firing positions, after recovering from their uncomfortable ride, on the first row of walls, along with the Unspeakables and Sirius. The scarlet Aurors dominated the first three rows, and then the DMLE Hit Wizards and normal Ministry workers took up the rear.

The Lift had sprung into action, and lights above it signalled the slow rise of the carriage. It was currently on floor eight; the Atrium. However, it could only go one way now. Floor two.

"Steady..." said Scrimgeour, as he heard a whimper from the back; probably a Ministry worker realising how much danger he was in.

"Ready Patroni," Moody hissed, his magical eye swirling but unable to see past the Lift's bright magic; the expansion charms and travel charms swirled across the surface of the metal box like spotlights. "They have some Dementors, according to the scrying screens."

"When they come up, activate the hexes," said Shacklebolt. "Lupin, is it full moon?"

Remus, a row behind, shook his head. "Voldemort has potions, however, that can force a transformation. I expect he's given them to Fenrir and the others."

"Bugger," Scrimgeour cursed. "A werewolf can take hits like a giant when it's enraged." He turned to his right, looking past Crouch, and signalled to some Aurors on the end of the first row. "You three, try to aim for the werewolves. Use spells which conjure silver. And you," he pointed at the Muggles, "remember to be careful for-"

The Minister was interrupted by a rush of air and a slight whirring sound which heralded the arrival of an intra-building Portkey.

"Sir!" someone shouted from the back row. "Auror Robson was killed in the Atrium! He had an intra-building Por-"

The rushing sound rose to a crescendo, and two feet above the heads of the crouched defenders a dark, confusing mass of bodies materialised, grasping a long rope: a transfigured intra-building Auror and Unspeakable Portkey.

The bodies immediately plummeted to earth, writhing and screaming as they fell on Aurors, Hit Wizards and defensive walls alike, some with nasty crunching sounds. Several dozen Inferi had been Portkeyed into the room, and as soon as they landed the undead beasts began to thrash and howl, tearing at flesh and lashing out at anyone they landed on. The DMLE department erupted into hand-to-hand violence as the Inferi launched themselves at the nearest people, howling in anger and scrambling over the defensive walls like animals.

Scrimgeour found himself bowled over the wall he had been standing behind when a jabbering Inferius tackled him in the back. He swore and jerked his head back, rewarded by a satisfying crack and the loosening of the Inferius' grip. He rolled away and fired a vicious cutting curse at a zombie threatening Crouch, who was busy wrestling with another undead assailant. As he got to his feet, the Inferi who had tackled him grabbed him again, and Scrimgeour got a good look at his attacker.

A grinning skull, barely covered by parchment-like flesh, stared at him through empty eye sockets. Pale hands animated by the Dark Lord's magic groped at Scrimgeour's front, before fastening in an iron grip. The Inferius grasp Scrimgeour firmly by the lapels, and jerked its head forward with a throaty roar, aiming to bite him with broken teeth. Scrimgeour swore again, and thrust his left hand forward, grabbing the Inferius by the throat.

"Confringo!" he spat, and the Inferius' head exploded in a shower of bone and dried gore, covering Scrimgeour's face in rotting flesh, and sending him staggering backwards. Scrimgeour gagged and cursed, before cleaning his face with a simple charm. The room was now in chaos; despite the numerical advantage the Aurors had, the Inferi were doing a lot of damage as Aurors found themselves unable to send curses into the confusing combats that had erupted. Screams, the sounds of cracking bones and the rattle of automatic gunfire echoed throughout the DMLE.

Scrimgeour saw Moody bisect a leering female corpse at the waist, before setting another one, this Inferius only a child, on fire. Next to Moody a Ministry worker, one of the workers that Scrimgeour had memory charmed, was savagely bitten on the cheek by an Inferius. The poor lad screamed for his mother and fell backwards as the monstrous zombie bit him in the throat and tore at his flank with gnarled dirty fingernails.

As the Aurors began to get the upper hand in the vicious hand-to-hand brawl, Scrimgeour heard the ping of the Lift, and the rattle of the golden grille. A wave of devastating cold and despair hit him, and he vaulted over the wall in front of him before turning back to see the Dark Creatures of Lord Voldemort swarm through out of the expanded interior of the Lift, shouting and whooping as they ran. He could see a pair of snarling transformed werewolves sprinting to cover the ground between the Lift and the defensive walls, and Veela transforming into their hideous, fire-throwing alter egos. But what was worse was the cold of the Dementors, although few in number.

You've failed, Rufus, he heard in his mind, as his vision began to cloud. You'll never been an Auror, you just don't have what it takes.

"No..." the Minister whispered, feeling weak as he clutched at the barricade he was now huddled behind, as the Aurors and Hit Wizards beat back the Inferi behind him with fire and magic, the animated corpses no match for the trained professionals.

Better luck next year, if you want to come back, he heard the examiner say in his mind, as he was taken back to his youth, and the day he had failed his first Auror exams. Thick grey fog obscured his vision, and all Rufus could make out was a hovering Dementor, who was floating above the Lift, which was still disgorging its dreadful contents of sprinting figures.

"EXPECTO PATRONUM!" he heard Moody roar, and a large silver tiger leapt over Scrimgeour's head to charge the Dark Creatures, accompanied by Shacklebolt's lynx. Immediately Scrimgeour's vision and head cleared, and sound flooded his senses in a burst of incoherent noise. He heard the crunching of bones and the screams of men and Inferi alike, as well as the whooping and laughter of the oncoming horde. He got to his feet, seeing a black-furred werewolf scant feet from the front lines, heading straight for him.

"Yulisquo!" he hissed, sending a razor-edged silver disc at the werewolf's drooling snout. It sliced into the beast's cheek, causing it to whimper in pain as the wound sizzled and began to steam. However the monster kept on coming, and Scrimgeour yelled in fury as it leapt the barricade with one bound, and slammed into the Minister. Scrimgeour raised his wand, a curse on his lips, and the battle was on.


Moody backhanded a snarling Inferius with his left hand, shouting a curse as he did so and sending the creature flying backwards with a shattered skull. He then deftly flicked his wand, transfiguring a chunk of steaming undead flesh into a silver blade, which he Banished into the flank of a werewolf pinning the Minister down near the front of the defensive line. The werewolf howled in agony and fell sideways, clawing at the sizzling dagger, as the Minister got to his feet and kicked it in the jaw, before setting the beast on fire. Moody's magical eye whizzed behind him to see another Inferius lunging at him; he didn't even turn around, instead lashing out backwards with his wooden leg, which was now fully articulated, crushing the foul creature's kneecaps before it could reach him.

"Come on!" he shouted at the Aurors nearby, who were finishing off the stragglers of the initial Inferi attack, "rally and fight back!"

Moody himself was roughly three walls behind the front of the defence lines, and so swiftly vaulted over one, stepping over a twitching Inferius, and sent a powerful piercing curse at a Death Eater at the back of the room; the oscillating purple bolt struck true, shooting through the oncoming horde of monsters and powering into the man's abdomen, completely shattering the Death Eater's azure shield. Moody smiled to himself, his scarred face twisting into a grin, and shot off three quick curses at a nearby werewolf, which was about to lunge at Crouch, who was grappling with a keening winged Veela.

Moody realised the defensive walls were going to do more harm than good at the rate things were going; Aurors were falling backwards over them trying to dodge, and being unable to manoeuvre in this kind of fight was a killer. He spun backwards and waved his wand in a languid arc, managing to Vanish the stone walls easily, as he had helped to create them. There were shouts of shock from the Aurors, some of whom found their cover gone, but the volume of spellfire immediately increased as they all spread out. The Dark Creatures were still attempting to push through the front line of men; Shacklebolt, the Minister and Crouch among them, with the Muggles firing indiscriminately into the fray as Black shielded them as best he could.

"BACK UP!" Moody bellowed, firing off a vicious cutting hex over the head of an Auror in front of him. One quick glance with his magical eye told him the initial Inferi were all dead (again), and some Ministry workers were frantically transfiguring the corpses into black marbles, so as to free up the wooden floor for the Aurors to move.

Moody ducked a large orange fireball thrown from a random Veela, wincing as he heard the howls of a Hit Wizard behind him who was hit in the face by it and knocked to the floor. He then shouldered past an Auror who was frantically firing weak Patroni over the heads of the combatants at an eerily floating Dementor, and rugby tackled the screeching Veela, with both of them falling to the floor, swiftly surrounded and trod on by a forest of legs. Moody, on his knees, grabbed a hunk of the Veela's dirty blonde hair and slammed the bird-woman's beak into the floor, before nailing her in the face with a powerful Bludgeoning curse at point blank range. He then lashed out with his elbow at the nearest Inferius' legs – barely legs, more raw bone, and set the beast on fire before scrambling to his feet, slightly unsteady on his wooden leg.

"Moody..." he heard something hiss behind him, and his magical eye whirred backwards as he was buffeted by the sea of struggling figures; the Dark Creatures had truly engulfed the beleaguered Aurors and Hit Wizards now, and it was less a magical duel than a series of brutal melee fights. He saw a Dementor with swords for arms glide over the heads of the combatants in his direction. With a shout, Moody lashed out at the bodies pressing into him with a powerful Repulsion charm, clearing himself a small circle, whereby he leapt upwards in a magically-assisted move as the Dementor swooped down and stabbed forwards with its blades. The swords passed just under Moody's foot and wooden leg, as he somersaulted forwards over the bulk of the battle towards the rear of the room, next to the Lift. The Dementor banked around sharply in mid air and made a beeline for Moody, who landed perfectly just outside the bulk of the combat. Moody spat and ducked a clumsy swing from a nearby Inferius, before setting the creature on fire and Banishing it at the Dementor, who was forced to dodge.

The next few seconds for Moody were a whirl of movement, teeth, fur and hot breath as a werewolf slammed into him from the side, sending him careening into the Lift. As the magical grille slowly shut, the werewolf pinned Moody down with its paws and drooled on his face; Moody looked it in the eye with both of his, and smiled nastily. The Lift door shut entirely, and there was a ping, ringing clearly over the din of the conflict in the DMLE. At the same time as the ping, Moody clicked his fingers, activating the fire hexes laid by the Hit Wizards. A rush of heat and bright light blasted through the grille, singeing the werewolf's back and causing it to whine in pain and roll off of Moody, who jabbed his wand into its gut and shouted a curse, sending a spray of silver flechettes thudding into the canine's unprotected stomach. As the werewolf spasmed and howled, Moody got to his feet and brought his wand down in an axe-like motion, whispering a spell as he did so, and severed the wolf's head from its body in a burst of blood, which peppered the decorated wall of the Lift and covered the polished floor of the small space in thick red fluid. Moody jabbed a button, opening the Lift door again, and readied his wand, before launching himself back into the fray. As he grabbed an Inferius by the scruff of the neck, he saw that the battle had separated out somewhat, and the sword-armed Dementor was duelling Shacklebolt and the Minister in the centre of the room, both men armed with transfigured swords.


Kingsley desperately blocked another strike from the Dementor, nearly falling over with the jarring shock of the blow. His transfigured steel longsword was unfamiliar in his hands; however he had quickly found magical shielding was like rice paper under the Dementor's furious sword attacks. The Minister, at his side, lunged forward with his own conjured blade, but the Dementor hissed and parried the attack easily. Kingsley felt fatigue beginning to set in, along with the constant cold buzz of despair that accompanied the Dementors that were flying around the room, dodging Patroni.

As he leapt backwards to dodge a cut aimed at his stomach, he was knocked sideways by a flailing Auror, who was trying desperately to stem the flow of blood from his neck where a werewolf had savaged him. Kingsley fell hard to the ground, his longsword clattering from his hands and skittering across the wooden floor of the DMLE, only to be swiftly obscured by a sea of moving feet. He rolled onto his back to see the Dementor floating above him, sword-arm raised to strike.

The Dementor's arm jabbed downwards at Kingsley's chest, but before it could connect the Dementor was struck by an orange spell, setting its black rotting robes alight.

"Over here!" Scrimgeour shouted, swinging his sword with his left hand as he fired another Incendio at the Dementor, which missed and hit an Inferius who was trying to strangle a Hit wizard. The Dementor screamed, a horrific hissing howl, and another pair of arms shot out of its robes to pat out the growing flames. Kingsley struggled to his feet and fired off a cutting curse of his own, which hit the Dementor in the back and sliced into its robes, rewarding Kingsley with a spurt of grey blood.

The Dementor spluttered, before taking to the air and heading for the Lift, dripping blood from its smouldering robes. Kingsley looked over the heads of the struggling fighters between him and the Lift, and saw Moody pursue the Dementor into the Lift, with the grille shutting as Moody fired off a series of spells at the Dementor's back in the confined space.

As he watched, Kingsley let his guard down, and was rewarded with a vicious bite on his left arm from an Inferius; he yelled in pain as the Inferius tore a hunk of flesh from his upper arm, and brought his wand around to blast the foul creature high into the air, with it crashing to earth somewhere across the room. Kingsley nursed his arm and waved his wand over the bleeding wound, and managed to stem the flow with some basic medical magic. He gasped and struggled for air as he looked around the room, seeing people and monsters fighting for their lives. From what he could see the Ministry wizards had the upper hand, but it was at a terrible toll.

An Auror lay on the ground, trying frantically to knit his torn stomach flesh back together with tears in his eyes. A Ministry worker was howling in pain as she clutched at a broken arm, bone jutting from her elbow. One of the Muggles was dead nearby, his face a steaming mess of cooked meat as the result of a Veela's fireball.

Kingsley exhaled noisily as he felt the pain in his arm recede; the limb was sluggish and numb, and he wished he knew how to heal himself beyond battlefield makeshift wandwork. Then a Veela, one of the few left alive, locked eyes with him from scant feet away, having dispatched the Auror she had been fighting. Kingsley felt a sudden urge to dance, to do something to impress the avian beast in front of him. The Veela then jerked her arms and two balls of flame appeared in her palms, and she opened her serrated beak to let out a cry like a strangled crow. Kingsley shook his head, feeling as though he was under water, and barely managed to throw himself to one side to avoid the two blasts of white-hot flame that the Veela sent his way. He bumped into an Auror in the mess of struggling bodies surrounding him and staggered, before the Veela was upon him, her beak jabbing forward into his shoulder, burying deep into his flesh. Kingsley screamed and punched the bird-woman in the side of the head, but his wand was knocked out of his hand by the Veela's sinewy feathered arm. They both fell backwards, the Veela's beak dripping with viscera, and Kingsley groaned and coughed in pain as the bird-woman began to strangle him, screeching viciously. His vision blurred and dimmed, before there was a flash of red fire from the Veela's hands and everything went black.


Hogsmeade, several minutes earlier

The Muggle encampment was dimly lit by artificial lights in the dying autumn night, with most of the men in the main mess tent eating their dinner. A pair of mechanics were servicing the Warrior assault vehicles to ensure they would run smoothly when they had to be used. Four men were on patrol in two pairs, trudging up and down the gentle hills surrounding Hogsmeade. Hogwarts herself was barely visible in the distance, lit up like a Christmas tree against the dark purple sky.

No one heard the rush of wind which signalled a mass Portkey, as it was muffled by the thick Forbidden Forest, and no one felt the subtle rumbling of movement that heralded the arrival of the two giants, Krakus and Guter, whom Voldemort had convinced to fight for him. Despite being trained professionals, luck was not on the Muggles' side.

It took the launching of a massive rocky boulder into the encampment to raise the alarm, which smashed into the medical tent and killed the medic inside instantly. The men of the Magical Pacification Force scrambled from their tents and grabbed their weapons, before leaping into the various vehicles in the motor pool and starting them up, to cries of "Contact!" and "They're in the trees! Fire!"

Lord Voldemort had arrived at Hogsmeade. As he strode through the tall trees of the Forest, he smiled a grim smile, knowing his minions would be arriving at the Ministry building at that very moment.

Tonight, the pure and strong would inherit the earth.