Not mine, wish it was but I'm not that good. Authors notes at the bottom.
The ministry was a broken mess.
An hour before, 49 masked and robed death eaters had portkeyed into the atrium and announced their presence with a flurry of curses against anyone visible. The battle was joined, red robed aurors appeared from the lifts, stairwells and corridors in twos and threes, and in twos and threes they died. It was 15 minutes before an effective defence was mounted as they stopped rushing in to ambushes and fought back in large enough numbers for it to make a difference.
Auror first-class (don't call me) Nymphadora Tonks, ducked back behind a barricade, barely avoiding the angry orange of a cruciatus curse before returning fire. "Stupefy! We can't hold them, we need reinforcements!" she cried over to her partner.
Kingsley Shacklebolt yelled back, as he cast a patronus messaging spell, "Already on it."
"Message to Mad Eye. Death Eaters in Ministry. Need backup. Holding position at Department of Creature Control. Falling back to hallway of Department of International Co-operation shortly. Suspect a total of fifty or so, Death Eaters. No Riddle." The translucent African Lynx nodded once and flew off over the heads of the combatants before vanishing into a wall.
Spells continued to be traded back and forth, people were hit on both sides, however when one of the masked individuals fell they were quickly revived and back in the fight. When an auror or one of the few ministry workers, who had joined the desperate defence, was hit they rarely got back up.
A call came from around the corner of the corridor behind them. "Next line ready!"
"Ok, pull back in two's" was the order. "Proudfoot, Tonks, Peters, and Shacklebolt. Thanks for volunteering. You take the tail."
"Fuck me Kings. How did we get pinged for this?" asked the metamorph.
Kingsley just chuckled. "We're still alive and no good deed goes unpunished."
By the time the rest of the defenders had regrouped around the corner and fresh barricades, the Death Eaters had realised what was going on and had redoubled their efforts to break through.
"Right. Explosion hexes on three," ordered Kingsley to the other three. "Hit the walls, ceiling, floor, whatever you can to create confusion and screen us. Then run. Don't get hit, we can't stop for you."
"One, Two, Three! Bombarda!"
The four almost made it before the sickly green colour of a killing curse was fired blindly through the dust, catching Auror Proudfoot in the hand just as he was disappearing from view around the corner. At full sprint the auror dropped like a marionette with it's strings cut and slid along the corridor floor finally coming to a halt at the base of the first of the next set of barricades.
"Fuck!" exclaimed Tonks. "We need more help."
There was a small lull as the corner in the corridor managed to form a natural choke point for the attacking forces, any movement at the junction was very quickly met with a barrage of spells. The defenders ranks were swelled as a couple of witches emerged from a stairwell.
"They've blasted a hole in the floor. They're looking to cut you off from behind." One of the cried out.
"Oh, for fucks sake!" the senior auror swore. "New plan! Everyone into the stairwell. We're heading up to the atrium. We'll regroup there." It'd become a race. The defenders abandoned their positions and bolted into the stairwell, sprinting up the stairs while being pursued by death eaters only a flight or so behind. The only thing keeping them out of range being the unweildiness of the invaders costumes as more than one tripped and fell while climbing the stairs.
The last of the fleeing group dashed out of the doorway and quickly took cover behind the hastily conjured walls that the first members of their group had made. Tonks, being the last one out again, locked the door with a quick "Colloportus" to give herself a couple more seconds to make it into cover.
A 'thud' as a body hit the door before it exploded out into the atrium announced that the door had been reached. Luckily all the defenders had managed to duck and no further injuries were received. However they were now stuck in a relatively open room bereft of any of the advantages to the defence that a corridor offered. Slowly but surely they were surrounded and more and more of them were hit, never to rise again.
Just as it was all about to collapse, the floo's fired green and began to disgorge witches and wizards clad in all sorts of civilian attire, all however wearing a golden badge. The Order of the Phoenix had arrived. The tables were quickly turned as the extra combatants tore into the rear of the death eaters, helped along by the arrival of the ancient form of Dumbledore and the young man by his side.
A death eater seeing the two floo in quickly pressed his wand to the dark mark on his arm. Less than 30 seconds later a sinister laugh echoed through the hall. Spell fire between the two troops dwindled and ceased, Voldemort had arrived.
More snake than man the figure strode through the atrium, appearing from the shadows, as if out of nowhere. "About time you got here Dumbledore, and you brought your precious little 'Boy who Lived' with you to die."
"Surrender Tom and I will ensure you get a fair trial and sentence." replied the old man., drawing looks of incredulity from the figure by his side. "Your forces are too badly outnumbered."
"Bah! You need more than this to intimidate me!"
The two protagonists continued to shout back and forth as a lanky redheaded man slunk up to the Boy Who Lived and pulled him aside. "Now's your chance. While he's distracted by Dumbledore, you can take him out."
Agreeing with him the two slowly made their way through the watching crowd until they were just out of the Dark Lords line of sight. "Quickly do it now!" the redhead urged his friend.
The Boy Who Lived gathered his magic, concentrating it until his wand was positively glowing with eldridge energies, before snapping it up "Stupefy!" A bolt of scarlet magic shot out the tip of his wand, crackling with power, heading for the back of the Dark Lord, who started to turn to see who had dared to cast a spell at him from behind. However it was too late, the cast was done with too much power and too closely to avoid. The red energy slammed into the left shoulder of Voldemort and…
Dissipated.
Everything stopped. Even the old man ceased his incessant prattle is surprise.
The Boy Who Lived, stared at the Dark Lord in shock. He looked down at his wand as if it'd betrayed him before he began to cast once more. "Stupefy, Stupefy, Stupefy, Diffindo, Percutio, Bombarda, Brackio, Cassium Brackio, Avada Kedava!" Nothing worked. Every spell simply dissipated against Voldemort's skin, even the last desperate killing curse, though it was that weak that it probably wouldn't have even given a flobberworm a cold.
Voldemort cocked a curious, though non existent, eyebrow and threw back his head and laughed. "Is that all you have? I am immortal you stupid child, you cannot harm me!" He drew his wand "Now let me show you how it is really done! AVADA KEDAVA!"
The sickly green beam leapt across the room striking the young man in the chest. He dropped like a stone.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" cried Dumbledore as the Ministry personnel and order stumbled back in shock and denial. This couldn't be happening.
Voldemort, simply raised his hand drawing attention back to himself, "Well. That was certainly disappointing. I will just have to continue this later." With a smirk Voldemort snapped his fingers and activated his, and his forces, portkeys and they vanished from the atrium in a blur.
The confused crowd ignored them. Too caught up in their grief. The Boy Who Lived. Their hope against the darkness. Their Hero, Neville Longbottom was dead.
Dumbledore however was oblivious. He couldn't take his eye's off the body of the young man and former student that he'd mentored since he was eleven. How were they to carry on without the chosen one, the one prophesied to be Tom's equal. His brain was working overtime, "how did this happen? What went wrong? Why couldn't Neville's spells hurt Tom? He was the one named to defeat the Dark Lord in prophecy…"
"Wait. Named. There was another one that was possible, wasn't there? The Potter boy. The one that the board of governors expelled in Neville's second year after the debarcle with the basilisk. Whatever happened to him?" Dumbledore for the life of him couldn't remember. "Filius will know. He keeps track of his ravens, even after they leave us."
Dumbledore shot to his feet, muttering "I have to go. I need to check on something." Before apparating out of the devastation left in the atrium of the ministry. The order and aurors just looked around in confusion. "What the hell?" "Where did he go?"
Meanwhile, Neville's body, that of the hero of the wizarding world, the Boy Who Lived, the Chosen One, just lay in the dust, dirt and blood from the battle, slowly cooling…
A month later, a dark haired sunburnt figure was walking, along with many other, through the rows of a vineyard in the Barrossa Valley in South Australia, trimming off dead growth in preparation for the upcoming spring. It was the last job of the season and he was looking forward to a beer with his workmates at his home with his wife, once they finished the field. About 15 minutes later they shelved their tools and all headed back to the main buildings of the vineyard where the bushy haired love of his life was already setting out the salads for the end of season BBQ. He'd done this for the last five years ever since taking over the family vineyard from the caretakers who had looked after it since his parents died. It was just a small way of showing his appreciation to his workers.
The small party had wrapped up and the young man was attempting to convince his wife to leave the cleanup until morning, when the sharp crack of an incoming apparition sounded in the driveway. Swearing, the two ducked into the main house, locking the doors behind them. The young lady ran for the phone and began dialling a number that she'd been given for emergencies. The man headed for the front door to ascertain what was going on.
Standing in the middle of the drive, looking around, was a very unwelcome blast from the past for the two. Albus Dumbledore in all his pink and yellow polka dotted splendour, yes that was his robes consisted of.
His wife rushed from the phone to stand with him at the front door, clutching an engraved stick of vine wood in her right hand. "Sirius is on his way. Who is it?"
"Look for yourself," he said in disgust.
She glanced out the window. "What in the world is HE doing here?"
"I don't know but it can't be good. How about you wait up here and cover me while I go down and see what is going on?"
She nodded, seeing the logic in what he said. "Well? Shall we?"
The two exited the door and made their way down towards the drive. The young lady, stopped beside one of the low walls bordering the entryway and brought the stick up into a ready position. Her husband continued to on to the eye-watering old man.
He was about a dozen steps away when Dumbledore piped up gaily "Ah, Harry my boy."
He was met with a much colder response. "What the hell are you doing here, you old fart?"
"I've come to ask you for your help. You may have seen in the wizarding papers that Voldemort killed Neville Longbottom on the floor of the Ministry back in April."
"Yes, So what?"
"With his passing, we have been left with no way to effectively fight the Dark Lord and we'd like you to come back and take up the mantle."
"Hang on. You want me to return to a place I dislike, to help people I loathe, and help them get out of a situation that is well and truly of their own making? People you might remember, through me under the bus after I killed a bloody basilisk for them and saved their school, because I wasn't their precious 'Chosen One?' A people that expelled me from the only true home at the time that I'd ever known and bound my bloody magic on top of it?"
"Bindings, can be undone. You're friends and your people need you."
"My friends? My People? There's only four people who ever tried to help me, One's an innocent felon. One's a "dark creature." One is a halfling and is looked down upon by your entire world and the last one stands behind me and has you at wand point."
The headmaster, looked over Harry's shoulder to the young lady standing half behind a rock wall for cover, wand steady and pointed at him. "Ah. Miss Granger. Good to see you still working hard of course." Only to be met with stoic silence.
"That's Mrs Potter, you old bastard."
"Oh, my congratulations."
"Save it." Harry looked up at Hermione who gave a small nod. "So you want an answer?"
"Please."
"Ok then. Here's my answer. No! Not only No, but Fuck NO! You have some gall coming here without a so much as by your leave and pulling this shit! Get the fuck off my land before I have my lovely wife up there part your beard and the neck and shove your head so far up your arse you'll need a glass stomach to see where you're going! Now FUCK OFF!"
With that Harry turned his back on his old headmaster and strode back up the entryway to his home, collecting Hermione on the way. As the door closed behind them, they heard the crack of the old man apperating away.
Hermione turned to her husband, "It's not over. He's going to return."
"I know. We'll just have to be ready."
OK so that's the first chapter done. It was an idea that popped into my head while reading tonight and I wanted to get it down. I have no idea where I'm going to take it from here and it might be a while before the muse hits again.