::::::::::---------------
Chapter Nine: The First Wave
::::::::::---------------
The Dark Lord glared into his scrying mirror. It was not made of glass, but was a smooth basin hewn of granite, evoking the ancient witch-queens of old. At first the clear water reflected only the skull-like face; then the vision changed, the face became a hood and mask.
"I trust all goes well?"
"Of course, my lord," assured Lucius Malfoy's voice. "They are trapped like rats."
"And Dumbledore?"
Malfoy hesitated momentarily, but the translucent image shimmering in the air beside him was scarcely less terrifying than being in the same room as the Master. "Yes, my lord. But we fear his attack: it will surely come soon."
"Do not fear the old man," sneered Voldemort. "Have I not proved my power to be far beyond that of your senile sage?"
"Of course, lord," Malfoy uncharacteristic anxiety amused his master, "but we have not your power."
"Strength in numbers, Lucius. I expect results. Bring me Granger, and perhaps the Weasley girl for good measure. Kill the rest. Do not allow even one to escape."
"No, my lord." But the misty apparition was already evaporating. Malfoy regained his composure. "Reductors on my word!" The Death Eaters in the square snapped to militant attention. Malfoy paused for effect. "Now!"
A hundred jets of red light sped towards the fence between 10 and 14 Grimmauld Place. There were a number of thuds and crashes. "Now!" Splinters drifted from thin air. "Now!" And there it was: a house, its decrepit façade pitted and pockmarked from the curses, its defences weakened. "Now!" Walls crumbled.
The time had come for the first wave of the Dark Lord's attack: first he would crush the opposition, then enslave those left behind. "Charge!" A hundred sets of robes swept the grimy pavement, a hundred wands held at the ready.
And then the front door exploded.