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I can feel it comin' in the air tonight, oh Lord
I've been waitin' for this moment for all my life, oh Lord
I can feel it comin' in the air tonight, oh Lord
I've been waitin' for this moment all my life, oh Lord oh Lord
In the Air Tonight, Phil Collins
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The first part of the sneak attack went surprisingly smoothly. George led his people through the front part of the manor and headed straight for the dining room, which he remembered was the biggest, and probably most important room in the house, at least from a defensive standpoint. There, Krum and his forces quickly sealed off half the doors, only leaving two entrances to defend.
The middle of the manor was more or less secured, and there was little else to be done until Dumbledore's army arrived. Taking advantage of the precious spare time, Krum ordered everyone in the room to start transfiguring the sections of table into beds for the injured. These beds were then banished off to one corner of the room, and a handful of lesser-able rebels were designated to help any rebels who were hurt in the siege. Powerful wards were quickly established around the makeshift hospital.
"Don't be getting cocky!" Krum screamed continually. "Ve know not vhat our allies are doing… nor do ve know v'here Grindelvald and Dumbledore's army is. Keep ready! Keep moving!"
George didn't need to be told twice. His wand didn't leave his hand, his eyes continually flashed between the two usable entrances to the hall, and his mind flickered to Fred constantly.
What had his twin done? George had taken the safe, strategic route and tried to secure the center of the manor, but that was so un-Fred-like that George hadn't even been disappointed when he hadn't seen his brother enter the dining hall. There were only two things that Fred would have been doing, and George didn't like either of them.
The first possibility was that he'd be trying to secure the perimeter with his men, acting as the rebels' first line of defense, something that was almost suicidal. The other, more likely possibility was that he'd gone off on his own to look for the Warden, which was probably almost as dangerous as trying to hold down the perimeter.
Merlin, why couldn't he have just stuck with Fred? Now he'd have to fight the entire battle not knowing, having no idea where his brother was. George wouldn't be able to survive if Fred died… Fred was the stronger one, the one who always led… If George lost his other, better half, he didn't know what he could do…
"Head up, Veasley," Krum ordered sharply. George jerked out of his thoughts just in time to see Krum march past him in his methodical pacing of the room. Right, thought George. Head up. Don't think about Fred. Just focus on staying alive. Fred would kill you if you let yourself die because you were worrying too much about him.
Sucking in a deep breath, George stood up a little straighter and focused on the tip of his wand, going over the seven uses of dragon's blood in his head over and over again, and doing everything in his power to distract himself from his brother.
He had just gotten to the fifth use when one of the doors burst open and an enormous, dark-haired soldier burst into the room, wearing black and silver military robes. Dark, dark eyes looked ahead with an unseeing expression, and his thick brows were knit together with something akin to anger.
The man's eyes widened when he looked into the room, and he quickly started to retreat, yelling something in a foreign language.
"HIT HIM!" bellowed Krum, and, all at once, dozens of spells went flying at the soldier. He dropped dead, but more quickly filled his place, spells from the outside cracking into the walls, widening the entrance so more of Grindelwald's soldiers could filter into the dining hall. Dozens of enormous, dark-haired soldiers were suddenly converging on the rebels. Some of the less experienced rebels retreated in fear, but most of them stood their ground.
George immediately found himself drawn to the front of the action, shouting spells and flourishing his wand without really thinking what he was doing. Adrenaline coursed through his veins, increasing his heartbeat, giving him a wild desire to take out as many dark-haired soldiers as possible.
The rebels had the advantage, and George could see, could feel, the dozens of soldiers piling up dead by the doorways, but they kept coming, almost as if they stemmed from some kind of unlimited source, like they were clones instead of actual people. George started growing desperate, his spells going from hexes and jinxes to the strongest curses he knew, to the killing curse on occasion- he couldn't afford to hit a guy and have him get up again only five minutes later.
Off to the side, Krum was dueling four at once, parrying and dodging with a speed and efficiency that didn't fit his duck-like waddle. George saw more soldiers begin to converge on the rebel's primary general and quickly snuck through the crowds of people, sniping off a squat soldier that had been ready to take a strike at Krum's head.
Someone shot a curse straight at George's chest, and he said a hasty, "Protego" before recovering and sending a killing curse in the general direction of his attacker. Green light hit its mark, and another black and silver-clad figure crumpled to the ground. George was too high on adrenaline to feel any numbness or guilt, to feel anything other than a strange sense of satisfaction.
Blinking rapidly, he focused his attention back on the struggling Krum, who was obviously the soldiers' main target. George blasted several curses into the mess of soldiers that surrounded the general, then ducked into the fray himself, eventually winding up with his back to Krum's.
Neither of them had time to acknowledge each other, but both kept up a continuous string of spells. At one point, one of the soldiers shouted, "No more Unforgivables, you morons! It's Veasley! Do you really vant to kill him!"
Their words didn't mean that George could relax for even a second, however. The stream of curses coming from the soldiers was strong enough that he didn't have time to register any kind of relief that he could get from knowing that he wasn't going to die quite yet.
The sound of curses and spells continued to fill the room, leaving George unable to hear his own words, making his 'incendios', or 'reductos' fade into thin air as he shouted himself hoarse, throwing as much power into every blast as possible.
Dumbledore's soldiers continued to fall, ranks and ranks of men lying dead on the ground, and still they kept coming, more of them than George could have possibly imagined.
The numbers that Hermione had come up with in the Room of Requirements so long ago were chillingly accurate. They were outnumbered to the point of ridiculousness.
"This was suicide, Krum," George shouted at the first occasion he had.
Viktor cast an explosive spell, knocking three guys off their feet at once, then gruffly replied, "Vould you rather die vithout a fight?"
George had to admit Krum was right, but as he started growing more and more tired, as the Durmstrang soldiers continued pelting him with curses that he became less and less able to defend himself against, he couldn't help but wish that they could have done anything else.
"Expelliarums!" someone yelled, firing straight at George. Krum deflected the blow before George got the chance, and, after taking a moment to restart his heart, George raised his wand and resumed his work on the soldiers that were still filtering into the dining hall, their numbers not seeming to have thinned at all. The bodies were beginning to stack up so thickly in the small space that they were tripping over their dead allies.
"This is ridiculous," growled Krum. "Veasley, step back!"
George quickly listened, jumping back behind Krum, wand still raised, and watching with wide eyes as the general stepped forward into what appeared to be a five foot strip of neutral ground, his dark, gnarled wand held high.
Nonverbally, Krum waved his wand, releasing an enormous jet of dragon-shaped fire that plunged straight into the mass of soldiers that were crowding into the dining hall's entrance. George watched on, transfixed, as Dumbledore's army started writhing and screaming under the flames. It was clear why Krum had not used the spell before. More than just being disgustingly inhumane, keeping the dragon under control was clearly taking a lot out of Krum. His thick hand was shaking, and the enormous creature still tore through the crowds in jerky movements, taking out the occasional rebel with the dozens of Durmstrang soldiers.
It wasn't thirty seconds before Krum couldn't control the dragon and was forced into releasing it, and even then George and several others had to scramble to put out the stray flames that had been caused by the nearly uncontrollable fiendfyre. Krum staggered with exhaustion, but managed to keep on his feet, waiting for more curses to come.
None did, not directly at him. Some fighting was still going on in the other half of the room, but Krum had cleared out or scared away most of the remaining soldiers, leaving the walls of the majestic hall coated with soot, the air saturated with smoke that smelled of death.
Once George got the walls to quit burning, he rushed to some of the smoldering bodies, cringing away when he saw that a good number of them weren't dead. Whether ally or enemy, he flung a killing curse at any of the blackened figures that still showed signs of movement, then doused them in water, doing his best to erase any chance of the cursed fire spreading.
"Ve vill have a few minutes," Krum said breathlessly, coming up behind George. "Take any injured vith a chance of survival and put them back there." He jerked his thumb to the very back corner of the room, hardly visible through the smoke. The hospital. George guessed that its wards had saved it from the worst of the fighting.
"A few minutes?" asked George. The smoke made him cough, and suddenly, with the absence of the adrenaline that he'd been running on, he felt extremely nauseous. "What's going to happen then?"
"The soldiers that survived the perimeter fights vill be coming. I vill try to contact the other leaders and get as many men in here as possible. Ve vill need the help."
"Please try to get Fred," George said, sick with worry at the sudden lurching, terrible thought of his brother's fate. Was he even still alive? "I need to know that he's not dead."
"You vould know if he vas dead, Veasley," Krum said, the hardness in his eyes giving way to something that was almost reassuring. "I can see it in the vay that you speak vith each other."
Then he turned and left, leaving George slightly more assured. Of course Krum was right. He'd know if Fred was dead. No matter what his brother was going through at that moment, he was alive. George could feel it.
...
Fred had followed Sirius Black in an attempt to get his group of rebel soldiers into some sort of useful location. Unfortunately, that location had turned out to be one of the key areas of perimeter defense- the back of the manor, the place through which most of Dumbledore's army would be trying to enter.
Enter. Such a demure, unassuming word. Fred looked nervously at the droves of soldiers that were marching across the hilly land outside. The bay window that he had found in an upstairs bedroom gave him a better view than he ever could have wanted. There were maybe a hundred and fifty rebel soldiers guarding that particular part of the manor. He guessed that a thousand Durmstrang soldiers were coming to confront them head on, and that was just for the castle's rear. He had no idea how many were converging on the front.
I'm going to die today, Fred thought frantically. There's no way in hell that I'll survive this, that any of us will survive this.
The enemy army moved closer, and Fred quickly turned away from the window, ready to head back downstairs to deal with the upcoming battle. He jumped when he realized that he was not alone.
Sirius Black. Bill, along with another fifteen or so rebels, were standing directly behind the dark-haired general.
"I've got a special mission for you, Fred, so listen quickly," Sirius said. "So far, no one's found your father, and we need to kill him before things get out of hand. If he dies, it might just make the enemy retreat, or at least screw up their forces. He's somewhere in this building, and Bill thinks he knows where. I'm giving you some of my best soldiers… you've got to go and try to find the Warden before this gets too out of hand."
"Bill?" Fred asked, glaring at his brother disgustedly. "Why in the hell would he want to help us? Why are you trusting him?"
Instead of letting Sirius answer, Bill stepped forward and spoke up himself, "Father showed how highly he thought of me when he didn't think twice about leaving me in rebel hands." His eyes shone mercilessly. "I want revenge."
"And then what?" asked Fred, stepping closer to the brother that he'd always looked up to most. "You'll kill our father and start fighting for Dumbledore?"
Bill looked him straight in the eye.
"No. I'll find some place to wait for the fighting to end, then decide which side I'll join afterwards."
"That's a coward move," Fred said. Bill shrugged.
"It'll keep me alive. Now are you coming, or not?"
Fred looked at Sirius, whose dark gray eyes ordered him to get going. Fred sighed.
"Okay, fine. I'm coming, if only because it'll give me another half hour to live."
"That's the spirit," Bill joked weakly. "Now come on, we've got to move quick."
Fred nodded, then followed after his brother, jogging away from the big window and into the vast expanse of hallways. He hated himself for so blindly trusting someone he knew he shouldn't, but his brain told him that he had no other choice, that Sirius would have forced him into going with even if he had refused. The group had needed a leader, and Bill definitely wasn't going to act as one.
"If we do find him," panted Fred as they raced down an elaborate staircase, "are any of us going to be able to kill him?"
Bill smirked cockily, if only for a moment.
"I will," he said. "With a little help, I'm almost sure I could take him. You'll have to take Mother."
"What about Percy?" asked Fred.
Bill's brown eyes landed on Fred, and he shook his head, smiling slightly.
"You really don't have a clue, do you?" Fred didn't answer. Bill sighed. "Percy isn't a threat. He can't duel to save his life. I wouldn't be surprised if you could take him out left-handed."
Unsurprised, Fred nodded. Bill picked up the pace, pushing the group forward a little bit faster, up a set of stairs, then through a narrow corridor. When they neared the end of the corridor, he slowed down.
"The door right at the end of this hall," said Bill. "If they haven't joined the fighting yet, they'll be right in here. Stand back, though. They'll all be ready to come after us… I have no doubt they knew we were coming, know what we're saying even right now. You've just got to out-duel them, if you can manage it."
Then, not giving any of the rebels any chance to prepare, he flicked his wand and nonverbally opened the door. It creaked open, and Fred whipped out his wand, ready to deflect a barrage of curses.
No one was in the room. A good deal of glass screens flashed with light, showing various battle scenes, but none of the Weasleys were there. Bill cursed loudly.
"Gone. They must have run away."
Bill ran into the room, and Fred quickly followed, watching on interestedly as he tapped each of the screens with his wand, magnifying the pictures and quickly flipping through moving images of ongoing battles and some of empty rooms, shuffling through what had to have been records of what was going on in every corner of the manor, then stopping on a particularly heated fight.
"Or maybe they haven't gotten away quite yet," Bill said, hastily zooming in on the image. Mrs. Weasley and the Warden were both roughly fighting their way through an ever-shrinking number of rebel soldiers that were trying to block their escape, all while Percy watched awkwardly from the side. James and McGonagall were both there, fighting them at the same time, and Hermione hovered towards the edge of the group, occasionally deflecting a blow, but making herself scarce.
"Shit!" Fred said, eyes widening at the scene that was playing out in front of them. "Bill, get us down there, NOW!"
His older brother didn't need to be told twice. Bill shut the screens down with a flick of his wand, then turned and began taking a seemingly haphazard route through the mansion, slipping through secret passageways and behind tapestries, occasionally turning back and finding alternate routes to avoid the worst of the fighting. Some of the group got lost in trying to keep up with him, but Fred followed quickly and obediently, thinking what Lily and Harry would do without James, fretting about the seemingly invincible Minerva McGonagall, and worrying his head off over Hermione.
Finally, without warning, Bill burst out of a portrait and into the middle of the battle that had been going on only minutes before. The only thing that had changed was that James Potter now lie crumbled against the wall, blood running down his temple.
Fred's heart clenched, and he uttered a silent prayer that the man was still alive.
Arthur Weasley allowed himself a moment of distraction when he heard the portrait hole open, and a pleased expression decorated his face when his eyes landed on Bill's face.
"Ah, son. I've been waiting for you to return to me-"
"Fucking bastard," Bill growled, taking out his wand and shouting, "AVADA KEDAVRA!"
The Warden spun out of the way easily, his scarred face contorting in rage when he hopped back to his feet. He didn't have time for anymore talk, however, because both McGonagall and Bill converged on him with a frightening ferocity.
Fred looked around quickly, his eyes wandering for only seconds before they landed on his mother, who was dueling with Hermione. Percy was looking back and forth between the two of them in complete terror, his face unexpectedly torn.
Unthinkingly, Fred jumped into the fray, going straight at the woman who was supposed to be his mother.
"Nice to see you again, Freddy," she said, flourishing her wand and shifting her focus from Hermione to her son. "I've heard that you've been getting yourself into trouble lately."
"Burn in hell," snapped Fred. The homesickness that came without seeing his real mother in months only fueled his anger. "Expelliarmus!"
His 'mother' ducked underneath the curse and rolled to her feet in a move that his real mother never would have been able to pull off. Unruffled, she fired an unbelievably strong blasting curse right at his face. The force of it completely shattered Fred's shield and threw him backwards into a wall. He cracked his head hard enough that his vision went black for a second, but Fred forced himself back onto his feet when he saw Hermione getting herself backed up into a wall.
"Crucio!" Mrs. Weasley shouted, firing the spell hard enough to break straight through Hermione's 'protego' and sending the bushy-haired with into the ground. Fred angrily started to fire some curse, any curse, at his 'mother', but an enraged, "Stupefy!" stopped him cold.
Bright red light flew out of Percy's wand and his Molly Weasley right in the chest. Fred didn't think, just knew that he had to take advantage of the opportunity, and shouted "Reducto!"
The frozen Weasley Matriarch burst into thousands of pieces.
Fred didn't even blink, instead turning to look at Percy, wondering what he was going to do next. His eyes widened in shock when he saw his least-favorite brother falling to his knees next to a shaking Hermione, holding her gently… caringly.
Anger sparked in Fred's chest.
"What in the hell do you think you're doing?" he asked, raising his wand to blast his idiot brother off of Hermione. Then a sharp curse flew just over his shoulder, and he remembered that he had bigger things to worry about.
Whirling around, Fred joined the fight to bring down Arthur Weasley, squelching down the fear that he felt when he saw that Bill and McGonagall had hardly been able to touch him.
"Another one," laughed the Warden. Strands of sweaty red hair were plastered to his forehead, hanging in his eyes. He looked half-crazy. "Fred. You always were my favorite." Bill and McGonagall both tried to curse him, but Arthur deflected the blows effortlessly. Smiling, like he knew exactly what he was doing, the Warden continued, "You're making a mistake, Boy. I'll take you back, you know. Dumbledore and Grindelwald both want you." He paused to deflect more spells, then said, "If you come back to our side, you can have whatever you want. You could be so powerful…"
Fred immediately started running away, knowing what Arthur was trying to do, and not trusting himself to stay in control. He was almost out of the room, almost there, when his father's voice reached his ears, yelling, "Help me, and you'll rule the entire Empire! You'll be stronger than Grindelwald!"
Stronger than Grindelwald. Stronger than Grindelwald.
Fred trudged back to the fight, anger and need and adrenaline giving him the power that he loved more than anything.
He raised his wand and pointed it at McGonagall's turned head with a smile on his face.
"You're a fool if you think you can beat the Weasleys, traitorous bitch," he growled, then opened his mouth to cast the killing curse.
