A low chuckle burbled from Voldemort's throat as he watched his minions harry the auror and his two witches. Skilled as they were, the three of them were obviously tiring and had made only a slight dent in his forces.
"Lucius," he said calmly, his crimson eyes never leaving the battle. He felt Malfoy slide up next to him.
"Yes, my lord?"
"Take Finneran and his group inside and bring me the Potter boy. I wish to make this trip as worthwhile as I can."
"Should I kill him?"
Voldemort pondered the question for a moment before answering.
"No. I think I would like to do it myself. The whelp is a brave one; he deserves that, at least."
"As you wish, my lord."
Lucius sank briefly to one knee, then moved away to gather the necessary assistance.
"They've got fight in them," Wormtail commented after they watched the battle rage for a few more minutes.
"Indeed," Voldemort agreed. "Most unfortunate that they could not be coaxed to join us permanently. Precious is made of sterner stuff than I ever imagined. No matter though," he said dismissively. "They're nearly dead anyway."
One hundred yards away, sweat rolled down Grey's arms and over his hands, forcing him to concentrate on gripping the slick handle of his lightsaber. The blade whipped back and forth among his enemies, blocking curses as they came near or disemboweling vampires who ventured too close.
They were vastly outnumbered. The weight of the attack had forced them from the dining hall into the courtyard. Behind him, Tara was doing her best to counter the magic hurled at them by Voldemort's Death Eaters and free him and Jess to clear the other hazards. Vampires and hellhounds buzzed around them like flies; he had long since given up trying to figure out how many. A pair of giants waited just beyond the fighting, anxious for the command to join the fray.
Beside him, Jess tossed offensive spells as quickly as she could get out the incantations. Those vampires that didn't freeze or burn to death were cut to ribbons or knocked away by powerful gusts of wind. It wasn't enough, though. She knew it. Grey knew it. Tara, who stood exhausted between them, knew it as well.
"We're gonna buy it in another minute or two," she called hoarsely to Grey.
"Open to suggestions, Jessica," he replied as he kicked a diminutive vampire in the face. A follow-up slash created a satisfying pile of dust.
A flashbulb went off in her brain as she risked a glance at Tara, who frantically tried to bolster the wall of anti-magic she had erected to keep the Death Eater curses at bay.
"I've got an idea. Keep 'em off me for two minutes, a'right?"
"Sure. Two minutes," he said, more to himself than to her. "After you said we'd be dead in one. What could go wrong with that plan?"
The rhetorical commentary died after that, replaced by a series of gasps and grunts. Three vampires, two in front of Grey and one on the far side of Jess and Tara, moved in for the kill. They all had spiky, multi-colored hair and wore leather vests without shirts, revealing the green and red tattoos of former Yakuza soldiers. All three of them moved like warriors, sleek and feline.
Tara was dimly aware of Grey attacking the three vampires. She had been able to maintain the mystical barrier for nearly a quarter of an hour, but each spell that hammered into it drained more of her already taxed reserves, and their were a score of Death Eaters working for the other side. Dark bags had formed under her eyes; all of her energy not devoted to the spell was going into the hefty task of staying conscious. Voldemort, fortunately, had not engaged them. She knew his entry would quicky tip the balance.
Another volley landed hard on her wall, the spells glowing with every color of the rainbow. The shield held, but the pain of the impact drove Tara to her knees. She barely felt the steadying hand appear on her shoulder.
"Hang on there, blondie, that's a good girl," Jess said softly, her Irish accent bending the reassuring words. She let some of her energy flow across to the other witch and felt Tara stiffen from the exchange. "I just need about thirty more seconds. Can ya give me that?"
Buzzing from the power injection, Tara nodded. Her whole body had sparked when the girl's power touched her. She focused once more on the defenses, bracing for another round of spells.
Mindful of exposing the girls, Grey waited for the vamps to come to him. The first one feinted an attack at his right side, leaving him open for its partner on the left. Instead of inflicting serious damage, though, the second vamp kicked Grey's hands as hard as he could. The lightsaber flew from Grey's grasp, landing ten feet away. It might as well have been a mile.
The auror recovered quickly, rolling with the momentum of the hit and kicking the vampire in the face. The satisfying crunch of cheekbone staggered the vamp, who recovered and loosed a left hook. Grey slipped the punch and kicked the side of its knee in; the second and third ones took the opening and hit Grey simultaneously in the stomach and the kidney.
The air rushed from his lungs with a woof. The vampire behind him locked one arm around Grey's right shoulder and pulled his head to the side . The other one turned to the girls, ignoring its wounded partner clutching his ruined knee on the ground.
Grey slammed his foot down on his captor's instep, then drove an elbow into the vampire's stomach. The combination broke him loose from the hold. The vampire gasped and stumbled; Grey grabbed its head and twisted until his legs were covered in dust.
The last standing vampire had almost reached the two witches when Grey grabbed him from behind. With another swift kick, that vamp's knee shattered as well. The two of them hunched over on the ground, hissing and snarling, giving Grey enough of a pause to retrieve his lightsaber. Two swift beheadings later, the immediate area was clear.
Jess carefully surveyed to the ingredients of her spell, now splayed out on the grass in front of her. She risked a quick glance at Grey, who was engaging another set of vamps, then began to hum. As the tune of her melody expanded, the power gathered around her; it was one of the first tricks Voldemort had taught her, that some magic responded to music.
When the power reached critical mass, Jess began the incantation. The words were Latin, but she mentally translated them into English as they came out:
Of Fear and Forgery do I call;
Of Lies and Falsehood do I call;
Show those of the Lesser Realm
What would make them fear,
What would make them cower,
What would make them tremble.
As the incantation finished, she heard the satisfying shrieks and the buzzing of Grey's blade as he slashed the fleeing vampires into dust. When they had retreated out of his easy reach, he fell back to Jess and Tara's position.
"What the hell did you do to make them run away like that?"
"Put the fear of God in 'em, don't you know."
He looked at her askance.
"For all they can see, a circle of giant crosses just sprung up around us. Gives 'em the willies."
He smiled grimly and gave her a brief nod. "I like it."
"Thought you might."
"H-hey," Tara called weakly. The energy burst Jess had fed her was about to run out. "I think … I think the giants are coming!" She could feel the tremors in the ground.
Grey and Jess looked up in horror as the massive forms lumbered closer, undeterred by the illusion of crosses.
"Got anything else?" Grey asked Jess.
"I c-can," Tara said before she could answer. "I just … not enough energy to do much," the girl finished. She reached out her hand for Jess.
The dark-haired girl didn't hesitate, taking the blonde's hand and entwining their fingers. Power surged between them, as it had when Jess touched her shoulder. This time, though, neither pulled away, allowing it to pool where their skin was in contact. Tara's eyes turned milky white, while Jess' darkened completely. The hairs on the back of Grey's neck stood up as he felt the power coalesce.
Tara's weariness vanished in the blinding intensity of the union. Even more than when she and Willow had faced the Gentlemen, she could feel her power in synch with Jess. She didn't have time to reflect on what that might mean as the words to a long-forgotten spell rose unbidden in her mind.
She wanted to chuckle, remembering that her mother had used it for gardening. She chanted the verse, starting slowly and gaining steam as the power reacted to the words. Jess picked up the phrasing and joined in.
Fifty yards away, the Death Eaters and vampires watched in awe at the display of power.
Hundreds of blades of grass lengthened and twisted in front of the giants. After thirty seconds it had grown three feet high; a minute later it was five times that long and wrapping itself around legs as thick as tree stumps.
"Clever," Voldemort muttered, content to let the witches believe they were winning.
The bewildered giants tried desperately at the entangling grass with their axes, but each cut blade was replaced by two more. Bobbing and weaving around their attacks, grass filled every conceivable empty space, threading over itself until Jess and Tara had encased the giants in a woven cocoon. With the tight covering complete, the two huge men could barely breathe.
"P-problem s-s-solved," Tara said as the energy drained from her. She released Jess' hand and collapsed to the ground. Jess followed suit, dropping to her knees in the dirt next to Tara.
Grey watched the witches fall, then looked up to see Tara's defensive magic vanish with a shimmer. The very-much undamaged contingent of Death Eaters surged forward, wands at the ready.
"Shit."
Five pairs of Gryffindor eyes swung from Dobby to Curly.
"Me be thinking you hit your head too much, elf, if you be thinking you stopping Curly." Curly's sneer and menacing smile caught the Gryffindors by surprise.
"You? You're the assassin? But you're …"
"A cuddly imp, Harry Potter? I be not thinking so."
"Ginny, Hermione, get back," Neville whispered urgently. He and Ron stepped in front of the girls as Curly climbed down from the window ledge and stood face to face with Harry.
"What about what happened before, with Moe and Larry?"
"Fools," the imp said dismissively. "The Dark Lord, he send me with them on purpose, so's I be able to do what I did. And now, I be able to finish off Harry Potter for him and he be most pleased with me."
Curly's eyes turned black and he grabbed the front of Harry's robe. Ron, Hermione, and Ginny pulled their wands but held off casting to avoid hitting Harry. Dobby rushed forward, eager to help; as he started to wave his hands, Hermione grabbed them and shook her head. Dobby saw her and stopped, realizing that any mistake could harm Harry badly.
Neville, spurred on by months of training with Grey and Spike, lashed out with a surprisingly fluid snap kick, catching Curly in the chest and knocking the diminutive imp's grip loose. He and Harry leveled their wands at Curly.
"PRAEFOCO!" The imp lashed his hand out and closed it into a fist as he spoke, beating Harry and Neville to the punch. The fist glowed with dark energy, then released a flash at Harry. Ron reacted first, plowing into his friend with a full-body tackle and driving him from its path; the curse whizzed past and hit Hermione's left arm. Magic closed her windpipe. She fell to the floor clutching her neck and gasping for breaths that wouldn't come.
"'MIONE!!" Ron screamed, horrified at what he'd done. He rolled off of his friend and crawled on all fours to where she lay. Tears streamed from her eyes as she looked up at him, hands still clutched at her neck.
For one angry moment, Harry watched his friend choking to death. Then he raised his wand and turned his fury-hazed vision on Curly.
"ACCIO!"
The end table next to the couch flew into the air, hammering Curly in the back of the head. The imp fell to his knees as pain bloomed at the back of his head. Harry cast the spell again, this time on a chair; it connected with the imp in its path with a solid thwack.
Neville came in behind the chair, eager to use his new skills. He kicked Curly again, this time in the mouth, then slammed his fist into the imp's gut, twisting it for maximum force as Spike had shown him. A short combination of elbows and knees gave Curly no time to react, and he huddled beneath his hands on the floor, moaning in pain.
Dobby watched as Harry Potter and the Longbottom boy subdued Curly, then turned to Hermione. He placed his palms together in front of him, thumbs facing up, and concentrated on the curse binding Hermione. To his elven eyes, it appeared as a black collar around her neck, slowly tightening as she struggled. He unfolded his hands, palms up, and as he did so imagined his magic splitting open the collar just as his hands had separated.
The magic binding broke easily. Hermione coughed twice and took in a lungful of desperately needed air. Ron threw his arms around her, tears leaking from his own eyes.
"Neville, back off," Harry ordered. He glanced at Ginny, who read his intentions perfectly. Neville retreated a few steps, clearing their line of fire.
"PETRIFICUS TOTALUS!" Harry and Ginny said together. The combined curse froze Curly in place, his enormous black eyes wide with panic. The young wizard and witch turned to the others.
"Everybody okay?" Harry asked.
Hermione extricated herself from Ron's arms and nodded. "I'm okay, thanks to Dobby," she said. She stood and hugged the house elf, completely shocking him.
"Oh my," he sputtered, "Miss Hermione, Dobby is happy to help. The bad imp did the hurting of Professor Dumbledore, but Dobby is not letting him hurt Harry Potter and his friends, too."
"Thanks, Dobby," Harry said. "Did Curly do that to you?" He pointed to the bruises on Dobby's face. The elf nodded.
"Bastard," Ron said under his breath.
"What do we do now?" Ginny asked.
"We've still got to try an' help," Harry replied. "At least the door's open."
"Yes, that's very fortunate, don't you think, Potter?" The voice was cold as ice.
Lucius Malfoy and a half-dozen Death Eaters stood at the door, each holding an extended wand.
Spike's demon roared, watching the minotaur rear up to its full height and inhale with a mighty snort. The transfiguration professor lay prone on the bottom platform of the stairs, all thought of escape drowned out by the awe-inspiring sight above her.
The crossbow twanged loudly as Giles let fly. His expert marksmanship didn't fail them. The bolt buried itself in the minotaur's chest, staggering the beast. Pain from the wound brought a howl of mixed terror and rage.
Spike surveyed the scene; McGonagall and the minotaur were two levels up, but the stairs for the intermediary level careened around the room at a wicked pace.
"Don't miss, you wanker," the vampire muttered to himself, envisioning the painful impact from a very long fall. He took the stairs three at a time, then bounded across the platform and leapt into the open space.
For a fraction of a second, he thought he had come up short.
Giles held his breath as the vampire exploded into action, his black duster flapping out behind him like the wings of a giant bat. When Spike's outstretched arm caught the railing of the next flight up, Giles expelled the trapped breath and took careful aim. The next bolt he shot for the minotaur's eye, but it glance off the minotaur's bony forehead.
"Fuck," he swore uncharacteristically as it charged down the stairs at McGonagall.
"Idiot vampire." Sirius had shed his black dog guise. He lifted his wand and gave it a practiced swish-and-flick. "Wingardium leviosa."
Still gripping the railing in his right hand, Spike was hauling himself onto the platform when he felt the push of magic from below.
"What the … fuckin' hell! Puddles!" The screaming blonde vampire launched into the air and plopped unceremoniously on his ass in front of McGonagall. The minotaur paused mid-rush, its pea-size brain trying to figure out where the blonde had come from even as its huge hands readied to strike him.
"Fisticuffs, then, is it?" Spike asked, talking more to himself than anyone else. "Fine with us, then." He reared back and smacked a vicious uppercut into its oversized snout.
The minotaur didn't even flinch before it lashed out with a slab-like fist. The blow rattled Spike's teeth but didn't put him down.
"Come on now," he said as he rearranged his grip on the axe, "Slayer can do better than that shit." It swung again, but Spike was ready. He dropped to his right knee, letting the punch sail high, then butted the minotaur under the chin with the top of the axe. A combat boot to the groin left the minotaur swaying like an overweight drunk. "Nothin' like that sick feelin', eh, mate?"
He punched it in the face, knocking it off-balance, then heard the Watcher's voice.
"Spike! Down!"
The vampire hit the stairs again, feeling a slight ruffle of air as the crossbow bolt whizzed two inches above his head.
"Eh! Watch the hair, ya pillock!" He looked up, taking in the bolt stuck in its neck and the gurgling sound of the minotaur choking on its own blood. Watcher's not a bad shot, he thought as he lifted the axe above his head and chopped mightily.
With a loud thwack, the horned head came loose and bounced over the edge of the abyss. Putrid smelling brown blood poured from the neck hole as the body toppled down to the stairs. Spike reached back and offered his hand to a stunned McGonagall.
"Come on, then, Professor. Can't be lingering here all day. Lives to save and that nonsense."
As she took his hand, all she could do was nod and stare at the fallen corpse.