Spoilers: Order of the Phoenix
Warning! As the title states it, it's a battle scene. So it's not nice.
This is different from my usual style, but it wanted to be written... I originally planned it as the beginning of a story, but I'm wondering if I should let it as a stand-alone or not...
Hell was loose on Hogwarts' grounds, between the castle and the Forbidden Forest. Voldemort had decided an attack that no spy had known of and had brought his Death Eaters through the Forbidden Forest, leaving a bloody path behind them. Aragog tried to stop them, standing for his family, but even an Acromantula had to step back when facing Dementors. Grawp, Hagrid's half-brother, who was still living there after a half-truce with the centaurs, had taken down several Death Eaters single-handedly, but he had not expected to face other giants. The centaurs looked at the walking disaster that was Voldemort's army and readied themselves to battle. Magorian and Bane looked at each other and the single glance was enough. Without a word, they parted, Magorian to lead the centaurs to the fight and Bane, being the fastest, to reach Hogwarts. Bane hoped that, despite all the arguments they had had before, Dumbledore would not refuse to listen. Tacitly, the defence organised itself and those who weren't on Voldemort's side moved to protect Bane's flight for help. The Thestrals stood in front of a large Death Eaters' group to cover Bane's tracks and were slaughtered to the last one. The unicorns tried to fight also, but were dismembered easily, their blood gathered for the Dark Lord. A Death Eater stood in Bane's way and the wild-looking centaur was ready to defend himself to death, but the dark wizard lowered slightly his wand and let him go with a curious nod.
Bane couldn't say how he reached the edge of the Forbidden Forest, but suddenly, Hagrid's hut was near. The half-giant contacted Dumbledore at once and Bane couldn't hide his relief when the old wizard believed him at once. Immediately he entered in action, contacting people at the Ministry, at the quarters of the Order, on missions or even in foreign countries. They all answered the call. Students were kept inside the castle, under the protection of the Prefects and a few teachers, except for some of them who had followed a tradition established only a few years before and who had taken advanced classes in Defence Against the Dark Arts. Everybody else gathered on the grounds. Bane felt a pang of anguish despite his bitter joy to see Firenze again: they weren't nearly enough. Then Dumbledore, for a brief instant, took down the Anti-Apparating wards on Hogwarts and, as if they had all been waiting for the signal, they began to pop all around. It lasted only a few moments, but it was enough to summon a little army who could have chances against Voldemort's. By Dumbledore's side, Bane recognised the tall young man with messy black hair and a well-known scar on his forehead. Next to him, as usual, were his red-haired friend and the brown-haired witch who had been with him since the beginning. Another wizard stood by the witch, holding her hand; he was older than her, clothed in shabby robes, but he had a look of quiet confidence about him.
A group of red-haired people came near and one of them, burly, with scars and burns on his hands and arms, exchanged a few words with Dumbledore before leaving for Hagrid's hut. Then the Dark Lord came out the Forbidden Forest and the red-haired wizard cast a spell, revealing a stone building just behind Hagrid's hut and inside the building was a Chinese Fireball dragon. Probably guessing already the fate of the inhabitants of the Forest, the wizard had no qualm in unleashing his dragon on the Death Eaters. Several Dragon Keepers came by his side so the dragon wouldn't burn the defence army. Voldemort hardly stopped; his attention was focused on the Boy-Who-Lived. Four giants were sent against the Chinese Fireball and, with a strange detachment, Bane watched them kill each other. Their advantage of having a dragon on their side was gone, but Voldemort's giants were now almost all dead. Hagrid was taking care of one of the three left while the Dragon Keepers, enraged by the death of their dragon, were after the two others. As Bane was still wielding the double-headed axe Dumbledore had transfigured for him, the images began to become blurry. He couldn't say what was happening, only some scenes stuck in his mind.
A lanky red-haired wizard falling to protect his sister, his glasses askew, his last words to her being that it was to compensate when he had failed her in her first year. Black-hooded silhouettes gliding effortlessly on the ground, bringing utter cold and despair, only driven away by silver apparitions, a stag, an otter, a wolf… A brown-haired young witch, screaming herself hoarse as her werewolf lover was writhing in agony at her feet, a silver dagger buried in his chest; she was still standing, still fighting, even when a spell hit her throat and left her with her mouth open on a silent scream, her vocal cords damaged beyond repair, allowing nothing more than a husky, rough whisper. The other werewolves falling also, hit by silver weapons or spells with a silver edge; Voldemort had probably planned the defection of some werewolves to his cause and had armed accordingly. Nevertheless, werewolves from Dumbledore's side were attacking their fellow creatures with silver-bladed and iron-hilted weapons, not the ones to wait peacefully when their brothers were dying around them. Firenze fighting against several Death Eaters, frozen in painful memories by a Dementor, and the green light hitting the chest of the centaur. The two friends of Potter hunting down mercilessly a scummy wizard with a silver hand. His own blade covering itself in blood as he swung it easily, not even remembering whose chest he had hit.
The Boy-Who-Lived and the Dark Lord, their wands locked together in a battle of will, the two wizards oblivious to the chaos raging around them, oblivious to the screams of pain, the dull thump of lifeless bodies falling on the ground, the shouts of warning when an enemy came too close, but had to turn away because of his inability to stand the crackling sheer power around them. The dark wizard casting a spell on his master, distracting him for a brief instant, long enough for Harry Potter's wand to overpower its sibling, blasting it into tiny pieces and stunning its owner. The same dark wizard – the one who had let him escape in the Forest earlier, Bane recognised him, his way of walking was unmistakable – hit in the head by the spell of a blonde man in Death Eater garb, his arm flung on his eyes, leaving him vulnerable, but another red-head intervened and cast a spell on the blonde Death Eater with obvious relish. The gathering as the Death Eaters and their allies realised that their master had fallen, trying all to move to him, only to be blocked by grim-faced Aurors and determined defenders. Dumbledore, Potter and the dark wizard, his face crunched in pain, his hand shaking, with their wands pointed on Voldemort, finally sending him into oblivion in an explosion of power that sent the weakest of those still standing on the ground.
And then, the calm. Looking around was sickening. Bane did and wondered why he was still alive when he was the last one of his people. He should have died instead of others; instead of this red-haired wizard who died protecting his sister; instead of the werewolf who took the heart of his lover with his last breath; instead of Firenze who had understood early what Bane had refused to see. Those who still had some strength left began walking between the bodies, softening the end for those who couldn't be saved, casting the basic healing spells on the others, sending them to the Hospital Wing, burning the corpses of the Death Eaters without passion and eventually calling the Patronuses against the last Dementors who finally retreated in the Forbidden Forest, now making it forbidden to any living creature. The young witch who had lost the werewolf came to Bane, who recognised her though it had been a long time since he had last seen her, and she began to heal his numerous cuts and bruises, her face a blank mask and her eyes empty. He put awkwardly his strong hand on her shoulder and she looked up briefly at him, with a nod to tell him she understood. Her whole stance was of resignation. She had known the risks, had accepted them, had accepted his death. But it still hurt. Slowly the battlefield cleared, each one claiming his or her fallen loved ones and beginning to nurse wounds in silence. The whole scene felt eerie after the noise of the fight, the flashes of light from the spells and the quick movements from before. They were walking slowly, some even crawling, their shoulders hunched heavily, keeping their feelings at bay, trying to be an unemotional shell.
Despite the tiredness, they made a list of the casualties. All the werewolves were dead, no matter the side they had belonged to, and among them, Remus Lupin, whose head now rested in Hermione Granger's lap. The Weasley family had lost Percy and George; Fred looked like a ghost, his eyes haunted with unspeakable horror as he tried to register the fact that he had lost his twin, half of his soul. Charlie would have to stop to care for dragons and could never play Quidditch anymore as his right arm was now useless, reduced to broken bones, torn muscles and snapped nerves. Neville Longbottom, Luna Lovegood – who should have become Mrs. Ron Weasley two months after – Zacharias Smith, Gregory Goyle – whose presence on Dumbledore's side had surprised everyone – Minerva McGonagall and Nymphadora Tonks had died, among others. Severus Snape, the dark wizard whom Bane owed his life to, had been struck blind by the blonde Death Eater's spell. Albus Dumbledore looked twice older than he really was and the final confrontation with Voldemort seemed to have drained him. Harry Potter himself was so weak that he couldn't stand up by himself and had to lean on Bill Weasley's helpful shoulder. His wand was smoking slightly in his hand and he snapped it wearily, the wood breaking easily with a clear sound as if it had suddenly become very dry. Nobody was left unscathed. The survivors leaned unto each other, trying to find a little comfort where they could, until one of them realised what they were doing and jerked away, only to lean unto the same someone a moment later. Despite her weariness, Hermione Granger levitated Remus Lupin's body as she returned toward Hogwarts and, not knowing why, Bane followed her, falling in step with her, ready to catch her since she was hardly able to walk straight. He was too tired to remember he hated humans; they were all he had left now.
They had won, but the price of victory had been high. For some of them, it had been too high.
So, what do you think? Prologue of a story or stand-alone? Normally, it should have been the beginning of a story with – of course – Hermione and Severus, the description of the final battle only taking one or two paragraphs, but Bane decided to take over and give me the full impression... And then, I thought that it was quite intense and I'm not sure I can keep the whole story so intense. Or am I delusional? So, for once, I'm asking what you think I should do... Review, please?