The Dark Lord looked down at the map. 'We are ready, Rookwood?'

Rookwood nodded once firmly, then waved his wand a few times, rearranging the positions of some of the markers. 'As ready as we will ever be, My Lord.'

'What are our total numbers?' the Dark Lord questioned.

'Twenty-five thousand muggles, My Lord,' Rookwood replied. 'Around ten thousand from the various secret police forces and fifteen thousand from the army. They will be supported by two thousand wizards drawn from the SA and GBS and two thousand of your…special soldiers.'

'And what has our spy reported?'

Rookwood swallowed. 'The last contact we had with him was almost a week ago. We have received no word since.'

'When was the last time you contacted him?' the Dark Lord demanded.

'It was the night before he was to begin his infiltration of the resistance base, My Lord.'

'Is he alive?' the Dark Lord hissed.

'We have no evidence to prove that he is dead,' Rookwood answered nervously. 'The information blackout could be due to many reasons…perhaps he couldn't risk sending intelligence without being detected?'

'All he had to do was use his Dark Mark,' the Dark Lord snapped. 'Are you telling me that you suspect that Lestrange was unable to even send a short message through a safe channel?'

'It is unlikely,' Rookwood replied quickly. 'But it is a possibility.'

'There is no reason he should have been stopped,' the Dark Lord muttered to himself. There was truly no conceivable reason known to the Dark Lord. Lestrange had been supplied with a broad-spectrum antidote to truth potions. He had been given prisoner uniforms and instructed to wear them down suitably, to blend in with the stream of refugees no doubt coming from the half-destroyed Philippeville camp. He even spoke French fluently, and could most certainly have passed for a refugee from France.

'Perhaps he will reappear the day of the battle?' Rookwood posited hopefully.

'He had better,' the Dark Lord snapped. The House of Lestrange has already been disgraced beyond belief by Rabastan's recent failures. If Fulcran failed his mission as well…no, it could not possibly have happened. The Lestranges, however weak and incompetent they were, were still pure-bloods. There was no way that the Mudblood counter-revolutionaries could possibly have thwarted his plans.

'But can we go on without the information?' Rookwood asked cautiously. 'If Fulcran has indeed failed his task, Merlin forbid, then we may be attacking blind.'

'Even the highest estimates put their numbers at no more than ten thousand,' the Dark Lord said. 'We have nearly thirty thousand. By numbers alone, we hold a three-to-one advantage. Even if we simply threw the muggle rabble at the counter-revolutionaries with no strategy at all, they will still fall.'

Rookwood nodded. 'We are facing mostly muggles supported by a number of Mudbloods,' he agreed. 'But without the information, we will take heavier losses…'

'The majority of the losses will be taken by the muggles, I am sure,' the Dark Lord replied. 'Their loss is of nil import to us.'

'What of the SA and GBS wizards?'

'Are you suggesting that the pure-bloods – and even half-bloods – of the SA and GBS could possibly fail against Mudbloods and blood-traitors?' the Dark Lord demanded accusingly.

Rookwood swallowed. 'No, I meant no such thing. But…what if they take heavier losses than expected?'

'They will not,' the Dark Lord said confidently. 'Allow me to remind you again that they are facing wizards of subpar breeding, Mudbloods, and muggles at a three-to-one numbers advantage. Our previous attempts at wiping out this pocket were only thwarted because the rabble attacked from cowardly ambushes. This will not be the case this time. It will be a one-sided battle. We shall hold Trier by the end of the night. You will not fail me in your command of the attacking force, Rookwood.'

Rookwood nodded. 'My Lord, I shall assure our victory at any price.'

Harry paced restlessly about the kitchen, looking for something to do but finding nothing. He had been on edge for the last five days. They had all been on edge. The kitchen had been cleaned from top to bottom more than five times in the last five days, if that was any proof.

Five days. That was how long it had been since Anna had told them about the spy who had confessed to Voldemort planning an attack under interrogation. The man had said that the attack was going to come in the next week. It had been five days.

That meant that the attack was going to take place today or tomorrow.

Daphne stepped into the kitchen. 'Chocolate cake?' Harry immediately asked. 'Or shepherd's pie? Or – '

She held up a hand. 'I'm not saying I don't appreciate it, but you've been feeding us so much we're all going to look like balloons soon.'

'I mean…I have all this food lying around…'

'I understand,' Daphne said. 'But I just came in looking for a cup of water.'

Harry poured her a glass and handed it to her. 'How's Neville?'

'I just changed his stitches,' Daphne replied. 'He's lying down right now. It's rather painful for the first hour after. Where's Hermione?'

'Upstairs, reading,' Harry answered. 'It's her favourite stress relief.'

'More so than you?'

'Shut it,' Harry snapped. 'And you're one to talk. Who the hell knows what you and Neville get up to behind locked doors?'

'Well…it was a…habit…we picked up in our year in hiding…' Daphne murmured, blushing.

Harry raised an eyebrow. 'You admit to it?'

'Didn't you always know?'

Harry chuckled. 'You've never come out and said it so directly.'

Daphne opened her mouth to retort, but at that moment, there was a loud banging on the door. Harry rushed to it, drawing his wand. He heard a thud that must have been Hermione's book falling to the floor, followed by feet stamping down the stairs. Harry swung open the door. On the other side, looking shaken, stood Anna.

'It's happening,' she said the moment the door opened. 'The attack.'

'What?' Hermione shrieked from behind him. 'When did it start? From where?'

'From the north,' Anna replied shortly. 'They're attacking with tanks. There were helicopters and planes sighted, too.'

'Are there any wizards?' Harry asked.

Anna shook her head. 'None sighted. Yet.'

'When're we going?'

'To do what?'

'To fight, what else? Aren't you fighting?'

Anna sighed, sounding depressed. 'I'm not. I'm stuck in headquarters with the rest of the higher staff.'

Harry's jaw dropped open. 'But…why? Aren't the rest of your unit…'

'Erich is at headquarters with me, but the rest…they are stationed in the north.'

'Can we go fight?' Neville demanded, appearing behind Harry.

'I'm not opposed to it,' Anna replied quickly. 'But I don't know how you can find the front line – '

She was interrupted by her radio giving a beep. Her hand shot to her chest, unclipped the receiver, and flipped a switch. Harry immediately heard frantic, unintelligible shouts in the background, combined with what sounded like explosions and gunfire.

'Kräfte im Osten gesichtet!' someone shouted through the radio. 'Neue Kräfte im Osten gesichtet!'

Anna's face paled at once. 'Was meinen Sie mit "neue Kräfte"?'

'Kampfpanzer und Hubschrauber und Tausende von Soldaten!' the man yelled. Harry recognised it as belonging to Raul. 'Der Norden war nur ein Ablenkungsmanöver, Scheiße. Das hier ist der Hauptangriff!'

'Anna, komm sofort zurück ins Hauptquartier!' a new voice that Harry recognised as Schumacher's spoke.

'Jawohl,' Anna barked into the radio. She looked back towards Harry with a mortified expression on her face.

'Headquarters. Grab your rifles and come with me now. Don't argue.'

The foursome obeyed, and rushed back inside the house and grabbed their assault rifles. Harry dashed back to where Anna was standing and turned on the spot, apparating into the dark alley next to headquarters. Hermione appeared a second later and immediately grabbed his hand and squeezed tightly. Harry returned the pressure, but his own hand was shaking a little too much to be of much comfort to her.

Anna, Neville, and Daphne arrived moments after, and Anna led them briskly into the headquarters building, the guards only giving a cursory look at her documents.

The inside was pandemonium. Soldiers were running everywhere, assembling in ranks or heading this way and that. Telephones were ringing every other second, and there was so much movement that a dust cloud was beginning to be kicked up. Around a large table off to one side of the room, a group of ten or so people were hunched over large rolls of paper, talking amongst themselves. Anna moved towards them.

'Erich! Was geht hier vor?' she shouted. 'What is happening?'

One of the men that Harry recognised as Erich turned around and rushed towards them. On his face was a tense expression that barely managed to conceal the panic underneath.

'We are not too sure,' Erich replied, speaking incredibly fast. 'The reports are still coming in from the east. It seemed like Noriega's initial report was right, though. The attack in the north is being routed way too easily for it to be the real thrust.'

'What is our situation like in the east?' Anna demanded.

Erich's face turned grim. 'Poor. The defenders do not have enough heavy weaponry to counter a large assault. And the wizards that are there are not well-trained enough to defeat a massive armoured attack.'

'Are there wizards sighted in the east?'

Erich nodded. 'Yes. They have spotted GBS and SA. They actually seem to be staying behind the muggle armour this time instead of charging ahead into machine-gun fire.'

'Scheiße,' Anna swore under her breath. She turned to Harry.

'Yes,' Harry replied before she could even open her mouth. 'We will fight.'

Anna swallowed and nodded, turning back to Erich. 'Erich, you stay here. I will go with – '

'No, I will go with them,' Erich said in a tone steeped in finality. 'Don't waste time arguing with me, Anna. You need to stay here. You are the Brigadegeneral and probably more useful here. I will be more useful out there.'

Anna nodded reluctantly. She patted Erich on the back. 'Good luck, all of you,' she choked out before heading away to join the other officers.

'Come,' Erich said concisely. 'We will get you all helmets and vests, then we will go.'

Erich started off an open door on one side of the lobby. When Harry entered, he saw a veritable armoury. There were guns of different types and models, boxes and boxes of ammunition, what appeared to be grenades, and, stacked near the back wall, piles of helmets and bulletproof vests.

'Here,' he said, throwing one of each towards Harry, who caught them in mid-air. 'These have basic Shield Charms on them. They should be able to stop most rifle bullets. But explosions and shrapnel, no guarantees. So be careful.'

'And your rifles, Anna said you had FAL's…sieben Komma zweiundsechzig Millimeter…' he reached up to a shelf and grabbed a heavy tin. 'Bullets for your guns. You can use Doubling Charms, of course, but just in case. We are ready to go.'

They exited back out into the lobby, squeezing their way through all the people moving this way and that. Anna gave them a two-fingered salute as they passed, and they stepped out onto the sidewalk.

'Harry and Hermione, you two come with me first,' Erich ordered. 'Neville, Daphne, I will come back to get you. Wait here for me.'

He held out his hands, and Harry and Hermione grabbed on. Erich turned on the spot and the city streets disappeared.

Harry arrived in an earthwork trench. 'Wands out,' Erich barked. Harry reached for the Elder Wand and readied it in his hand. 'Stay right here. Do not go anywhere without me.'

Erich disapparated, and Harry and Hermione stood back-to-back, on guard for any attack. After a minute that seemed like an hour, Erich returned, bringing Neville and Daphne with him.

'Wands,' Erich said. 'Follow me. If you see anyone in a uniform that is not ours, kill them. Ask questions later.'

Erich charged forward, wand in hand, and Harry followed him, Hermione and the other two close behind. The sounds of battle grew louder as they crept forward, nearing the front lines.

'We are here,' Erich said when they turned left into another nondescript trench. 'There are pillboxes, turrets, concealed artillery, and other positions up ahead, but this is the staging area. We need to figure out where to go.'

Erich grabbed his radio. 'Wo brauchen Sie die meiste Hilfe?' he shouted into it.

'Überall!' a voice screamed back a few seconds later.

'Gibt es einen bestimmten verdammten Ort?' Erich snapped impatiently.

'Sektor zwanzig im Südosten steht unter schwerem Angriff,' the voice said.'Panzer und Zauberer!'

'Sector twenty,' Erich said, stowing his radio. 'Tanks and wizards. Come on!'

Erich ducked off to the right side of the intersection and ran as fast as he could, keeping his head down. Occasionally, an artillery shell would explode near them, or the flash of a curse would soar over their heads. Harry did not dare to peek past the parapet despite his morbid curiosity, and kept on running as quickly as he could to keep pace.

They stopped perhaps fifty metres away from an array of pillboxes. Harry saw an artillery piece in one of the dugouts to his right. The crew was shouting instructions in French, loading and firing the gun as rapidly as they could, kicking up a huge cloud of dust with each shot.

'Noriega!' Erich yelled. A few seconds later, Raul appeared from around the corner, a pistol in one hand and his wand in another. A rifle was slung over his back.

'Holzer! Wir sind in Schwierigkeiten!' he yelled. His eyes caught sight of Harry and the foursome. 'They are throwing waves of SA at us, supported by tanks,' he finished in English.

Raul began running towards the front, Erich and the foursome in hot pursuit. 'Have you called the rockets?' Erich asked as they ran.

'Yes!' Raul called back. 'But we were not able to call as much as we needed. They shot through all their ammunition fighting against the diversion attack in the north and had to reload, mierda!'

'What about your wizards?'

'The wizards in the combined squad have been trying their best,' Raul answered. 'But there are far too many enemies. Wave after wave of tanks. Worse, two of them have already been killed.'

'Do they have planes up? Helicopters?'

'There were a few of them, but they were all shot down. Surface-to-air missiles took care of the planes and RPGs took out the helicopters.'

They ran for a few more seconds, stopping in a front-line trench. Harry risked a peek over the top. He could see several burning wreckages of tanks and armoured cars. Taking cover behind the wrecks, however, he saw soldiers – both muggle and magical – occasionally peak out and fire off a few rounds, or an orange or green curse.

'Split up!' Erich commanded. 'Daphne, Neville, you go with Noriega to the right. Harry, Hermione, you come with me to the left.'

Erich nodded and gestured Harry and Hermione forward. Harry stopped her before she could follow behind him and planted a needy kiss to her lips.

Harry opened her mouth, but Hermione shook her head. 'I know,' she whispered. 'I do, too.'

The two of them raced after Erich. When they arrived at his position, he had taken up an empty machine-gun dugout. The two soldiers that had previously occupied it were already dead, and their bodies were sprawled unceremoniously against the back of the trench. Harry pulled out his wand on instinct, trying to Disillusion Hermione and himself, but when the Elder Wand touched her forehead, nothing happened.

'That is no use! We have put up anti-Disillusionment enchantments over the city! We have to fight the old-fashioned way!' Erich yelled. 'I will use the machine gun! You two take care of tanks with magic and feed me ammunition when I call for it!'

'Understood!' Hermione shouted her reply. Erich gave a small nod and began opening fire. Up-close, the machine gun made a noise eerily similar to the ripping of cloth. Every several rounds, a bright tracer would rip through the air, marking the trajectory of the round. Erich's fire hit a group of three SA who were distracted by another defensive node, killing them instantly and brutally.

'Tanks, up ahead!' Erich yelled.

Harry levelled his wand, peeking out slightly over the parapet. A group of five or six tanks were driving slowly towards their position. Marching behind them, through the dust cloud that they kicked up, Harry saw soldiers wearing uniforms of both the magical and muggle forces.

'Wait until the tanks near,' Erich instructed. 'Do not reveal your position until you know for sure you can land an accurate shot.'

Harry laid low for a tense minute, watching as the tanks approached, occasionally firing their main guns at a bunker or a foxhole. With every shot that the tanks fired, Harry felt his stomach twist. Someone could have died, and Harry was doing nothing to save them.

'Attack!' Erich shouted.

Harry and Hermione raised their wands. 'The one in the middle!' Harry yelled. He took careful aim. 'Reducto! Reducto!'

'Reducto!' Hermione shouted in unison. 'Confringo! Confringo!'

Harry watched as the curses flew. The first tank's driver saw the flashes of incoming light way too late. He tried to manoeuvre his tank out of the way, but only managed to shift his vehicle by a few degrees before it was hit. The Reductor Curses hit the tank on the side of its chassis, opening a large hole. The Blasting Curses sailed through and exploded, detonating the tank's ammunition magazine alongside. The tank exploded in a huge fireball, and Harry saw the gruesome sight of some of the soldiers who were taking cover behind it fly through the air.

More curses were flying towards the attackers now, emboldened by the first victory. Some were blocked by timely Shields cast by the wizard soldiers, but others struck the tanks or the trailing soldiers. Three more tanks exploded, taking their crew and dozens of other soldiers with them. Harry and Hermione fired off another sequence of curses, managing to score a hit on the final tank, setting the vehicle on fire. The crew scrambled to escape the stricken vehicle, but Erich cut them down with an accurate volley of machine-gun fire.

'Good shooting!' Erich complimented. The still-surviving Imperial Army soldiers began fleeing, running from the battlefield as fast as they could. The GBS, however, were tolerating none of it. They turned around towards their own retreating forces, ignoring the defenders, and began firing Killing Curses and an ominous orange curse at the muggle soldiers. One by one, they all fell.

'Those…bastards!' Hermione snarled. 'They'd kill their own men just for retreating from a hopeless battle?'

'You know what non-magical people mean to them,' Erich growled. 'It does not matter to them that they are supposed to be their allies. They are scum. If they were not trying to kill us, I would almost feel sorry for them.'

Erich fired another few bursts from his machine gun, almost in anger, cutting down several of the wizards murdering their muggle counterparts. Machine gun and rocket fire from other positions joined in, and the slaughterers were torn to pieces in a cloud of dust and blood.

'Serves them right,' Erich grunted as the fighting temporarily ebbed. 'Whenever we capture one of them – SA, GBS, it does not matter – we interrogate them and shoot them on the spot. Those swine do not deserve to live.'

'What about the muggle soldiers?' Hermione asked.

'It depends on who. The secret police are summarily executed. The regular army soldiers, though…' Erich's face took a dark look. 'We do not capture many of them, since they are almost always murdered by the blocking troops. The ones we do capture, more often than not, turn to fight for us.'

The air was suddenly rented by an ominous whistling sound. 'Down!' Erich shouted, tackling Harry and Hermione to the ground. The cause for Erich's alarm was made clear a second later, when there was an enormous explosion off to Harry's left. He rolled over and instinctively shielded Hermione with his body, conjuring a Shield Charm above them to protect them from any flying shrapnel and rocks.

Another artillery shell landed just metres in front of their position. The machine gun Erich was using was torn from its mount and hit him across the stomach, throwing him to the ground and knocking the wind out of him. Hermione reached out from under Harry and cast her own Shield Charm over the stunned and incapacitated man as another explosion tore apart the air to their right.

Harry heard the roar of jet engines and snuck a look up. Several fighter-bombers were circling above them. One of them swooped down and a black object detached from its win. Harry watched as the bomb fell in slow-motion, hitting a concrete bunker and detonating with a giant orange fireball.

Erich had come to his senses. 'Their air support is late! Pity they did not come earlier when their tanks were being shredded!'

'Can't we shoot them down?' Hermione shrieked. 'They're dropping bombs on us!'

'You try to aim a curse at an object moving at several hundred kilometres per hour,' Erich yelled. 'Better leave it to the missile troops.'

'Where the bloody hell are the missile troops, then?'

'They are…here!' Erich said. Harry was about to ask the man if he had lost his mind when he heard a shrill whistle, then an explosion almost directly above him. He turned his head. One of the fighter-bombers was spiralling to the ground, on fire and missing a wing. The pilot fruitlessly tried to eject, but misjudged the timing and shot headfirst into the ground. He and his seat crashed a split-second later with a sickening crunch, overshadowed by the blast of the jet's impact a few seconds later.

Harry saw more pale white streaks of missile exhaust crisscross the air, heard massive explosions shock him down to his bones as the missiles struck their targets. Two or three were shot down and crashed onto the battlefield in a flaming wreck, while the survivors began frantically dropping their payloads and turning away, desperately trying to escape. One of them soared perhaps only twenty metres above Harry as it fled, only for the pilot to misjudge his altitude and tumble into the ground a second later.

'They never learn!' Erich cackled. 'Sending bombers in unsupported by a ground attack or support aircraft.'

'Don't the muggle generals know better?' Hermione asked, sounding genuinely curious.

'Sure they do, but they are not the ones in charge of the attack. It is always one of Voldemort's underlings who know little about non-magical ways of war.'

'That's…idiotic!'

'Of course it is,' Erich said almost nonchalantly. 'But that is not a cause of complaint for us, is it?'

There came an almost otherworldly cry through the dusty battlefield that made the hairs on the back of Harry's neck stand on edge. He knew that sound. He had last heard it during the raid on the train. It was the sound that the Inferi – or zombies, or whatever they were – made when they attacked.

He shared a frightened look with Hermione. She had recognised it, too, judging by her pale countenance and terrified expression. Harry tried to reach for her hand in support, but found that his limbs were frozen and immovable.

'What do we do?' Hermione asked Erich frantically.

Erich looked stoic, but Harry could see that he was as frightened as the rest of them by the sudden appearance of these nearly unkillable beings. 'The rockets,' he said in a near whisper. 'They are susceptible to explosives. If Blasting Curses work, so should rocket artillery.'

He grabbed his radio. 'Major Schwartz!' he bellowed into it. 'Major Schwartz!'

'Was zum Teufel, Oberstleutnant Holzer?' a voice called back over the radio.

'Wir brauchen Raketenunterstützung!' Erich shouted. 'So viel Feuer, wie Sie uns geben können!'

'Wir sind nicht voll aufgeladen!'

Erich roared in frustration. 'Das ist mir scheißegal! Zielt auf fünfhundert Meter ost-nordöstlich von Sektor zwanzig. So viele Raketen, wie Sie haben!'

'Fünfhundert Meter ost-nordöstlich von Sektor zwanzig. Verstanden. Wir werden unser Bestes tun.'

Erich nearly slammed his radio back into its holster. 'The Arschlöcher must have been drinking while reloading or something,' he snarled. 'They are somehow still not fully reloaded, a full twenty minutes after their last volley…verdammt! We are on our own to hold out until they come through for us.'

'How long will that be?' Hermione asked, sounding panicked.

'Five minutes? I do not know,' Erich growled. 'They have to finish their reload drill, then acquire a target, aim, and then wait for the signal to fire. We have to hold them off as best we can.'

'How far away are they?' Harry asked, trying to peer through the smoke.

'More than five hundred metres away,' Erich answered. He pointed towards the still-smouldering wreckage of one of the tanks. 'That marks approximately five hundred metres. We cannot see them yet, so they are most likely between five hundred and one thousand metres away. I instructed the rocket artillerymen to aim for five hundred metres.'

Harry nodded tensely. 'What do we do? Blasting Curses?'

Erich shook his head. 'Too slow. Use guns.'

'But guns have no effect on them – '

'Aim for the head,' Erich said. 'Remember the train raid? Blasting Curses worked best when they took off the…things'…heads. I will take a bet that bullets can do the same if you aim properly.'

'And what if they don't?'

'Then we switch back to wands.'

Harry drew and shouldered his rifle, searching through the dust cloud with his scope for any trace of the Inferi-soldiers. There came another bloodcurdling cry from the creatures, and Harry began to see silhouettes materialise through the dust.

He aimed for the head of one of them and pulled the trigger. There was a flash that indicated the gun had fired, but a second later, the bullet dove into the ground several hundred metres short, kicking up a cloud of dust.

'Aim higher,' Erich instructed as he squeezed the trigger of his own rifle. 'Above their heads. You need to compensate for bullet drop.'

Harry saw through the scope that Erich's round, too, hit the ground short of the silhouetted figures. 'The range is too far,' Erich muttered. 'Our rifles are useless at the distance those things are at.'

'Do we have to wait, then?' Harry asked.

Erich sighed. 'We have no choice but to wait. We will just be shooting at shadows if we do not.'

Harry watched as the silhouettes grew clearer, their edges growing more defined. Slowly, he began to make out empty and blank faces, drab green uniforms, and helmets worn lopsidedly on their heads. In their hands were clutched an assortment of primitive weapons – clubs, spears, knives. Not one of them was armed with a wand or a gun.

The creatures were moving just as haphazardly as they did when Harry first encountered them more than two weeks ago. Occasionally, one would trip, but then get up not two seconds later, continuing to walk on as if nothing had happened.

'They are within range,' Erich said. 'Begin shooting. Remember, aim high.'

Harry positioned the reticule above the head of one of the creatures and squeezed the trigger. It impacted the thing above its left lung, leaving a bloody, circular wound, but the creature did not even feel it and simply continued hobbling forward.

He lifted the barrel of his gun even further and fired again. This time, the bullet flew too high and did not impact at all. Harry grunted in frustration, lowering his aim slightly and firing a third time. Finally, he hit the being right on its temple. There was a spurt of blood and brain matter as the round blew through its skull, and the creature went down, not to move again.

'So they can be killed,' Hermione murmured.

'It looks so,' Erich affirmed. He grabbed his radio. 'Zielt auf den Kopf!' he shouted into it. 'Das ist die einzige Möglichkeit, sie zu töten!'

Harry, Hermione, and Erich kept up their fire. It was absurdly difficult for Harry to hit anything, often requiring two or three shots down a target. He almost wanted to go back to using magic, but then realised that he would simply be facing the same problem in a different medium. It was not like wands came with scopes, either, and it would have been even more impossible to aim accurately.

'What the bloody hell are the rocket troops doing?' Erich growled in between shots. The Inferi kept advancing. They were almost at the five-hundred metre mark now. In another thirty seconds, the rocket artillery would miss altogether…

Then it came, the shrill, high-pitched cries of rockets tearing the air. Harry looked away from his scope to see the bright glowing tails of rockets streaking across the sky, leaving trails of white smoke behind them. There were so many of them that it was like looking up at the star-studded sky. They arced over Harry's position and fell back to earth.

Harry had to clutch his ears to avoid being deafened by the sound of dozens and dozens of warheads going off simultaneously. The first rockets exploded about fifty metres behind the front line formed by the creatures. Harry saw through the thick dust cloud that was kicked up bloody limbs, pieces of torsos, twisted helmets and weapons. The barrage began slowly creeping forward, ripping more of them to shreds as it advanced.

Now even the first line was obscured by the rockets' explosions, and the barrage kept advancing yet. The rockets passed the tank that Erich had used to mark the five-hundred metre point and came still closer. The explosions were growing louder now as the impacts neared. They must have been four hundred metres away now. Soon, it was three hundred, then two hundred…

The shrill whistling sounds ceased, the explosions stopped. The artillery barrage had ended, and the battlefield was eerily quiet except for the odd volley of machine gun fire, or the occasional spell flying through the dust cloud and disappearing, not hitting anything.

The dust began to settle. Then, as if hit by a sudden gust, it was blasted forward towards the defenders. Harry and Hermione reacted instinctively, conjuring Shields. Erich was a split-second late and choked on a mouthful of dirt before he got his own shield up.

'Ventus Jinx!' Hermione yelled.

'How is it so strong?' Harry shouted back.

He got his answer a second later when the dust cleared. Behind it, less than two hundred metres away, were countless phalanxes of wizards, all with Shield Charms up. Machine-gun fire opened up at once, but the bullets were simply absorbed harmlessly by shields in pops of light.

'Killing Curses!' Harry yelled. He levelled his wand at one of the wizards in the phalanx directly in front and shouted the incantation. The green jet of light flew true. The wizard on the receiving end cancelled his Shield, attempting perhaps to conjure some object to block the curse, but he was too late. The Killing Curse hit the unprepared wizard right in the chest, and he crumpled to the ground.

The other wizards closed ranks immediately, disregarding their fallen comrade. Hermione fired a Killing Curse of her own, and this time, they were prepared. Her intended target lowered his Shield, conjuring a rock to block the curse, then immediately re-cast the Charm.

'Try this: you two use Killing Curses to distract!' Erich ordered. 'I will shoot them when their Shield is lowered.'

Harry and Hermione both nodded. 'Avada Kedavra!' they shouted simultaneously. Two jets of light soared towards a witch, who copied her comrade and lowered her Shield. The precise moment she did, however, Erich let off a burst of fire from his rifle that nailed the woman in the temple, killing her instantly.

'Again!'

They repeated the same procedure. Another wizard went down in a bloody heap. Then another. But they were too slow. The phalanx was within a hundred metres of their position now, and still had more than half its initial strength left. Another few steps and they would be within range to drop their shields and start firing spells.

'Can't the artillery fire on them?' Hermione asked desperately between casts.

Erich shook his head. 'Too close. They risk hitting us.'

The phalanx came closer. Three more wizards went down, but there still must have been close to ten remaining. Less than fifty metres away now. Twenty.

'Confringo!' Harry yelled in desperation. 'Avada Kedavra! Confringo!'

The first Blasting Curse was deflected by the Shields, but the Killing Curse following it pierced one of them, killing the witch cowering behind. The second Blasting Curse soared through the gap provided by the dead witch and exploded in the centre of the formation. The two wizards standing on the left side were blown away from the phalanx, their backs ripped open.

The GBS wizards did not attempt to close ranks this time. Instead, they dropped their Shields and rushed forward, firing off curses as they came. Harry pushed Hermione down behind the earthen parapet as the curses soared past. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Erich firing blindly with his rifle.

'We have to retreat!' Erich shouted. 'Go! I will cover you!'

Harry opened his mouth, but Erich cut him off. 'Do not argue! Go!'

Harry began backing up out of the position, covering their retreat with smokescreen spells that were quickly dispelled by more Ventus Jinxes. Curses were flying from all directions. The wizards were just metres in front of them now. Harry was doing his best to place himself between Hermione and the enemy. He indiscriminately shot Killing Curses, taking out two as he retreated.

Erich was in front of him, his wand in one hand and his rifle held in the other, alternating between spells and bursts of fire. Three wizards fell limply into the trench, and Erich presumed them to be dead.

That is, until one of them raised his wand and slashed it. A purple spell, shaped almost like a line, flew at Erich. Harry gasped in realisation of what the spell was. Erich, however, did not notice it until it was too late to dodge.

The spell hit him right in the abdomen. His face bore a look of surprise as he collapsed in slow motion.

'No!' Hermione shrieked, stepping out from behind Harry. 'Avada Kedavra!'

The green jet of light hit the perpetrator in the chest, killing him. Hermione rushed forward towards Erich's fallen form and felt desperately for a pulse. In her frenzy, she did not see the wizard that clambered over the parapet, his wand pointed at her.

The GBS thug cackled. 'Capium – '

Harry leapt forward, trying to throw himself between Hermione and the GBS thug. With his right hand, he pointed the Elder Wand blindly at where he thought the wizard was standing.

' – anima!'

'Avada Kedavra!' Harry shouted.

He turned his head in the direction of the GBS wizard. The Killing Curse was flying true, straight for the man's chest. Harry watched as the man spotted it far too late. He tried to jump out of its way, but the curse hit him on the left arm.

In his frenzy, Harry had completely forgotten about the curse that the GBS wizard had cast. He felt it hit him in the stomach. A feeling of coldness swept through his body. A sort of tugging force.

Then there was pain. Excruciating, agonising, head-splitting pain.

A/N: Please see A/N of previous chapter for update on the state of this story.

Translations – all from German:

Anna speaking into the radio:

'Forces sighted in the east!' someone shouted through the radio. 'New forces sighted in the east!'

Anna's face paled at once. 'What do you mean, "new forces"?'

'Tanks and helicopters and thousands of soldiers!' the man yelled. Harry recognised it as belonging to Raul. 'The north was just a diversion, damn it. This is the main attack!'

'Anna, come back to headquarters now!' a new voice that Harry recognised as Schumacher's spoke.

Erich speaking into the radio:

Erich grabbed his radio. 'Where do you need the most help?' he shouted into it.

'Everywhere!' a voice screamed back a few seconds later.

'Is there a particular damned place?' Erich snapped impatiently.

'Sector twenty in the southeast is under heavy attack,' the voice said.'Tanks and wizards!'

Erich speaking to Major Schwartz:

He grabbed his radio. 'Major Schwartz!' he bellowed into it. 'Major Schwartz!'

'What the bloody hell, Colonel Holzer?' a voice called back over the radio.

'We need rocket support!' Erich shouted. 'As much fire as you can give us!'

'We are not fully reloaded!'

Erich roared in frustration. 'I don't give a [swear]! Target five hundred metres east-northeast of sector twenty. As many rockets as you have!'

'Five hundred metres east-northeast of sector twenty. Understood. We will do our best.'

Miscellaneous:

'Aim for the head!' [Erich] shouted into it. 'That is the only way to kill them!'