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An Old and New World
by Lens of Sanity
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Chapter Thirty Two: The Fall of Hogwarts
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Hermione was absolutely disgusted by the sight. It was simply horrible, a ghastly thing to be forced to watch. But like a car accident or a trainwreck, she could not look away.
Fleur Delacour was sitting on Harry Potter's knee, and feeding him his lunch, and they were looking at one another with big goofy grins.
They were of course very obviously, and very seriously, injured. Harry had some deep gashes and cuts on his face, a black eye, much bruising, and the horrifically broken nose. His arm was in a sling, and he was sitting tenderly due to the broken ribs. Fleur was in pretty much the same state, scorch marks and burns from one too many run-ins with casually tossed about fireballs, and singed hair sticking up at the back worse than Harry's.
"I think my foot is broken," Fleur said, as though the fact were of mild interest, but not really important.
"I should bloody well hope so with the number your second Foe Hammer did on my ribs," Harry responded with a pleased smile, accepting another fork-full of dinner.
"You two have very serious issues!" Hermione declared from her position across the table.
"Pipe down Hermione."
"Oui," Fleur agreed. "It is as though you do not wish us to have any fun at all."
"How can that have possibly been fun?" Hermione asked shaking her head. "Neither of you were using anything approaching friendly magic."
The two—totally 'not married' couple—stopped acting all moon-eyed and turned to gaze directly at Hermione. They wore identical looks which declared her to be crazy.
"You expect me to use kid gloves against her?"
"Do you suppose I should treat him like a child?"
The fact they both spoke the same sentiment at the same moment was not lost on her. For the first time in a long while she remembered something Luna had said back when she'd been fourteen, in the small interval of time between Harry's funeral, and the blonde's time travel. Luna had made a comment about the two pretty much being the same person.
Hermione suddenly realised it was true. They were both insane.
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Walking side by side with Antonin Dolohov, and in front of two faceless Death Eaters whose true identity she never bother learning, Rowena brutally suppressed the scowl that so wanted to break across her face.
Dolohov was one of, if not the most dangerous Death Eater currently in the Master's ranks. The man had been charged with a sole task, and in matters covered by that task's successful execution, complete and total authority. Surpassing her own authority as a Founder even.
Antonin's job was to keep her alive at any cost.
The small group passed the first of many checkpoints—this one in the Ministry Atrium—following a cursory examination which determined whether or not any of the foursome was a polyjuice imposter.
Of the two Founders still alive, Rowena was the only one to still be in possession of her Horcrux, and as such far too valuable to be risked on the front lines, the Ravenclaw Diadem being the last Soul Container in the Dark Lord's custody.
Rowena was intelligent enough to realise the Master had considered killing her, and squirreling the priceless object away somewhere for safe keeping. He had not done so for two reasons, the first was because all of these protections on the Ministry were probably just as good as what Voldemort would be able to provide anyway. What with all the overlapping fields of fire, checkpoints sweeping for charms, potions, and compulsions, as well as a not-so-small army of defenders all taking residence in the building.
Secondly, Rowena herself was far from defenceless. The girl whose body and magic she was using had once been the daughter of the then Director of Magical Law enforcement, Susan Bones, and she had surprisingly robust magical talent. The threat posed by their enemy's blood magic was of little threat to her, and she'd be capable of fighting Lily Potter herself if need be.
So it had been deemed safer for Rowena to be placed behind the fortified Ministry protections, with a wand in hand as last resort.
Entering the lift on the long journey toward her office, Rowena tried her best to ignore her three constant companions. She tried to similarly ignore the fact a lowly Death Eater, even one as skilled as Antonin Dolohov, was in a position to give orders she'd be forced to obey.
Twenty five long minutes later she was behind her desk, coppery hair tied back, and with the frown never having graced her features.
Rowena supposed she should just focus on staying safe and alive as she had in previous weeks, but as she was effectively under house arrest, the bright side no longer felt all that appealing.
It was not as if anybody could possibly get to her behind all these security measures after all.
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Less than five hours later on Friday the twenty-second of August, Harry Potter was making his way back to the library in search of Hermione, startled a little by a coalescing mass of silvery energy—a Patronus Charm taking the pretty cool form of a Thestral. Harry smiled, and the well-defined equine construct opened its mouth to speak. Its accent a Korean even worse than Fleur's mangling command of the English language.
"Target and bauble both dealt with," the Engrish accent informed. "You owe us additional six hundred hazard bonus."
The Thestral dissolved and Harry was hurtling toward the Headmaster's Office, dragging the communication mirror from his pocket as he went. "Padfoot!" he screamed into his reflection, which in turn shimmered to reveal that of his godfather.
"Harry?"
"It's time, Hermione and Tam should be in the library, I'll meet you in the Entrance Hall."
A grim look of focus crossed his aristocratic features. "Okay." The laconic response was all and enough before Sirius was gone from the mirror.
"Expecto Patronum!" A Bengal tiger leaped from his wand, bounded around a few times until it was padding contentedly at Harry's side, its mannerisms surprisingly similar to Bellatrix. "Go tell Bella it's time, and that I will meet her in the Entrance Hall."
The Patronus span into a ball and flew through a wall, vanishing to do as ordered right as Harry approached the gargoyle guarding the entrance to the Headmaster's Office. He noticed, not for the first time, that the thing seemed to have been turned to rubble at some point and repaired, obvious fissures and cracks running through it which weren't there when he'd first laid eyes on it, years ago.
"Candy Canes!" yelled the seventeen year old, not in the mood to ponder Albus' ridiculous passwords. Bounding through the door without knocking Harry took in his mother, Snape, and Dumbledore all sharing a conversation. Interrupting whatever they'd been discussing Harry just said, "Rowena is dead. It's time."
Instead of leaping to go through with the plan, Albus frowned. "If I may ask... under what circumstances did the Founder meet her downfall?"
Harry glared at this lacklustre response to discovering all these weeks of waiting were finally over, Harry simply waved the question off. "What does it matter? She'd dead, let's do this thing."
"As you say," Albus Dumbledore commented before closing his eyes and focusing on Hogwarts' wards.
"I cannot believe we are voluntarily lowering the school's protections," Snape muttered with the shake of his head.
"Severus, I agree with Harry on this one," Lily told him firmly. "Voldemort must think he is winning for this to work out for the best."
A tense sixty seconds passed before Dumbledore's shoulders sagged and he blew out a long breath at the exertion.
"It should take one of the cursebreaker teams around an hour to initiate a staggered field collapse," Albus told them. "Notably less if Voldemort himself is the one tearing down the wards."
Harry nodded. "Okay, I'll go get Scrimgeour."
"No!" All three shouted as one, unified in their alarm, with Snape finishing the sentiment. "I believe I shall go coordinate with the former Minister, your diplomatic skills will not be needed Potter."
"Fine," Harry huffed, offering his arm to the auburn haired woman. "Coming mother dearest?"
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They were outnumbered. That pretty much went without saying with a castle under siege. So they were outnumbered by about four or five to one, and had very little hope of reinforcements appearing out of nowhere to come help them. Oh, and it was four or five to one, not counting the Giants and the Goblin Army.
Harry was staying well clear of the Goblins if he had anything to say about it. The Goblins didn't like him for some reason, and wizards that Goblins especially disliked tended to find themselves stabbed with sharp objects.
The plan was pretty simple. Non-combatants who wished to stay in the castle were shuffled off and sealed into either the Hufflepuff or Slytherin dormitories, keeping them out of the way and hopefully safe. The others were filed out down a secret passage through the Come and Go Room, to Aberforth Dumbledore's pub, the Hog's Head.
The Aurors, militia volunteers, and other fighters would be organised into small teams. The plan being to cede Hogwarts corridor by corridor, room by room, withdrawing the whole time and keeping allied deaths to a minimum.
Albus already had several routes planned out, and fallback positions prepared, so Scrimgeour and his people just had to follow direction and everything would be fine.
Now, one of, if not the main goal of today's battle, was for Lily to kill Salazar. She had the Blood Protection Guardian, and Salazar was in the exact same position as Tam—running around in a body which was itself the Horcrux. "Lockhart" had no physical Founder's Object. Not anymore. The assassination had to be done before anyone informed the Dark Lord of Rowena's recent demise. Lily should not find this all too difficult to accomplish as she'd been loaned the Cloak of Invisibility, and intended to sneak close enough to just shoot him in the back.
It was a war remember.
Shooting people in the back was fair game in wars.
The other thing Harry's side had going for it was leverage. There were not all that many Death Eaters on the same skill level or magical power as Harry's friends. Harry had surpassed Sirius a while ago, and Tam was currently winning two times in five against Bellatrix. This was good news as Sirius could go one on one against pretty much any of the Inner Circle, with the glaring exception of both Antonin Dolohov and any of the Founders.
So as a small team, Harry and his friends were quite a force to be reckoned with, and that did not even account for the presence of Albus Dumbledore, true Master of the Elder Wand.
Harry and Bella both downed their polyjuice potion, one losing a few inches of height and gaining auburn hair, the other transforming into her niece, Nymphadora Tonks. The real Tonks was with the crew and not her fellow Aurors for this battle, but she'd picked the form of one of her buddies for added misdirection.
Tam swallowed down her own potion—coming out looking like a random male Auror—along with Tonks they completed the image of two ministry bodyguards. Harry hated that he'd lost the bet and had to be the woman, whereas Tam got to be the guy.
Regardless, this plan was probably going to work.
It was better than the City of the Dead stupidity they'd settled on last year, and that had worked out okay in the end.
Right?
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"Fucking stupid Goblins," Harry moaned as Tam put a boot on his chest and pulled a spear out of his shoulder. "What did I ever do to them?"
"Well... you are famous as being the only wizard to successfully rob them," the no-longer redhead began, "and you flaunt the centuries old treaties, and you removed the Potter gold from their guardianship, and you call every single one you meet Griphook, and you..."
Seeing Tam was going to keep going on, Harry just waved for her to stop. "Fine, maybe they have some legitimate concerns. Still doesn't mean I like getting stabbed by the little bastards."
Tonks!Bellatrix came on over once she'd finished playing with the Goblins, and Lily!Harry was being dragged back to his feet by Auror!Tam. Seven rippling Death Eaters dropped their Disillusionment Charms flipped their wands at Harry and shouted a barrage of AK light.
Three silverback gorillas and a swarm of neon blue Cornish Pixies sprang to life, intercepting the oncoming death magic without Harry missing a beat.
"Polyfluis Reverso!" All three whispered instantly, targeting one of the others. And Lily with her twin Auror bodyguards became Harry Potter, Tamsyn Riddle, and Bellatrix Black.
One of the interesting side effects of polyjuice potion, was that when wearing another's form, a witch or wizard was not as much in tune with their own magic. Therefore, once the trap had been sprung, the three utilised a newly researched spell to instantly return them their own bodies. It was seven on three, and back in their own forms, the three were outnumbering the seven.
"You guys are so screwed," Harry told them.
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Hermione knew she could do this. This was what it had always been coming down to, and she knew she could do it. Albus was off fighting Death Eaters the Dark Lord had been using as bodyguards, and now it was just her, Fleur Delacour, and Voldemort.
With a blue and gold shimmer Anti-Escape wards were erected, trapping the three of them in place, and more importantly preventing Voldemort from being able to Apparate away once he realised he was going to lose. Hermione saw it as the Dark Lord felt a tickling of magic trapping him, and so she walked confidently into the clearing, hair braided tight, vinewood wand grasped tightly in her right hand.
Voldemort glanced over dismissively and a bolt of green light slammed into Hermione chest, taking her feet from under her and violently throwing her into a tree.
Being hit with the Killing Curse hurt.
A lot!
Hermione got to her feet and brushed off the dead leaves, moss, and dirt from her no-longer pristine clothes.
"Tell me Lord Voldemort," Hermione began with a bright smile. "Now that you've killed me what do you plan to do next?"
She opened up Starfall without waiting for a reply, and at the same instant Fleur released her signature Foe Hammer.
The battle was on.
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Skulking beneath James' old Invisibility Cloak Lily felt like an assassin, or maybe a ninja. It was not a particularly pleasant feeling preparing herself to cold bloodedly murder someone, nevertheless it was necessary. And the person in question was technically Voldemort anyway, so while she did find it distasteful to be doing what she was doing, Lily wasn't going to hesitate.
He was a good-looking blonde man, in lilac robes, and it seemed absurd this ridiculously dressed person could possibly be as dangerous as he was. All the same, Lily crept behind him and ignored his bodyguards, focusing instead on the curse she was going to use.
If what they'd practiced against Tamsyn in the Room of Requirement held true, Salazar would be capable of blocking her spells using throwaway transhields. Meaning the Killing Curse was out. However any attempt to block her attack using magical shields should result in her spells to passing through virtually unaltered.
So she settled on a blasting curse.
"Altus Impactus!"
Wham! Head and torso vanished completely before Salazar could even register his hastily raised Imprimis failed him. Well, when she said blasting curse, Lily may have been understating the sheer power she could pump into this one.
Hand and wand slashed out "Conseco Artus," and a Limb Sever took Pettigrew in the throat not a second later. Hastily retreating back beneath the Invisibility Cloak's protection Lily ducked and dived out the way of all the offensive magic fired in her direction by Salazar's useless bodyguards.
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Okay, so direct damage spells were basically useless against him. That was very annoying. On the plus side, direct damage spells from Voldemort are basically useless against Hermione. Fleur had attempted the Killing Curse a bunch of times, but the Dark Lord always dodged, or managed to get something in the way of anything green heading his direction.
Another unfortunate problem was that Fleur had almost lost her hand when her wand was destroyed. She was still conscious, if a little bleary from what was probably a concussion, so had taken to simply holding the Anti-Escape wards with all of her strength, freeing the required concentration and magic drain from Hermione so she could focus solely on her task.
The net had changed and was shimmering a deep dark red from time to time, signifying the magic was still active.
"Furnunculus, Aculeus, Diffindo, Incarcerous, Furnunculus!"
Only the mild stinging hex and the severing charm actually hit, but this was the fastest low level chain Hermione knew, and it was important to just blanket the area with as much magic as she could, as fast as she could.
A giant scorpion was hit with the stinging hex, curling back on itself as soon as it encountered Hermione's magic, deforming, and not a moment later returned to its original form, passive stone.
Hermione had been bitten by a snake, and clawed by some kind of dog or wolf. The transfigured animals could hurt her before her touch destroyed them, which was why she always made sure they didn't get close enough. Drenching the oncoming threats with kiddy spells from first and second year seemed to be enough.
The Dark Lord's leaping lion must have been engorged to appear so gigantic, and Hermione effortlessly wrapped the animal in Incarcerous Ropes, handily reversing her enemy's transfiguration once again.
"I tire of this." Voldemort hissed loudly. They'd only been fighting a few minutes, the man must not have much of an attention span.
The next thing Hermione knew, an uprooted tree was hurtling toward her, and with a flick of her wrist she was forced to conjure a shining silver shield. The impact was awe inspiringly powerful, and Hermione's shield remained firm, ringing out a deep gong-like note.
The massive projectile dropped to the ground and Hermione took the opportunity to fire off a bright white sphere of her own magic, the same spell Albus taught her back in January, and it burst with an almighty roar as it impacted the Dark Lord.
"I am ever so sorry Faux Riddle," Hermione couldn't help but taunt, "was that your best shot?"
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Harry was trading blows with an Inner Circle member he believed to be named Jugson. One of the curses he shot was a surprisingly well cast Dark Arts spell he recognised as yet another of Tam's favourites... she called it a Shadow's Glaive. Harry had never asked, but was fairly confident his brother used Dark Arts all of the time not because they were more effective, but because so few were capable of handling as much Dark Magic as she could without side-effects.
She was always showing off!
Harry was certain of it.
Take the Glaive for instance. It was around the same level as a Lacero cutter, but was covered by the Interdict of Merlin because using it was addictive. Harry supposed most people were not as well versed in the Dark Arts as to be able to recognise such an obscure spell instantly and then, as Harry did, proceed to reflect it right back at the caster.
Jugson went into a scrambling dive and one of the other Death Eaters caught his curse in the face, knocking his silver mask clean off.
"Digby!" Harry called an enthusiastic greeting, for the first time ever intentionally getting the man's name wrong. "How's it hanging?"
"Graagh-!" Harry's question was met with some incomprehensible scream, followed by a few more Dark Curses. Harry got a close look at the guy and realised he was probably suffering from Dark Arts Dependency. It was likely he didn't even realise where he was, let alone why he was fighting with the Death Eaters.
"Kid, you're sick," Harry called after, scoping around and noticing he was the only one still fighting. "Calm the fuck down."
'Digby' didn't calm down. Harry subaudibly incanted Hoarfrost, and chased it with a crisp "Pupugi" piercer to the man's upper wandarm. Taking him down after that was somewhat trivial.
"You want me to kill him?" asked Bella.
"Nah," he replied, mulling over another solution. "Obliviate the shit out of him..." Harry suggested. "Do you believe you can take three years? Make him think he's just put his name into the Goblet of Fire."
"You are way too nice," Tam informed with a shake of the head. "You know he will still have to recover from Dark Arts abuse?"
"Bollocks to him. I'm only suggesting it because I like Daphne, and she used to like him."
"Fair enough," said the redhead. "We should get out of here though, this is still a warzone remember."
"I hope Fleur and Hermione are okay," Harry said after a while.
"Worried about your girlfriend Potter?"
"No Riddle, I'm worried about yours."
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Scrimgeour and his people were finally into the last fallback corridor, retreating through one of the secret entrances, evacuating to the base of Ravenclaw's Quidditch stands. The Ministry of Magic's people had lost surprisingly few of their members, having had the foresight to retreat and back off as soon as things started shifting from bad to worse.
It helped that the hastily explained battle plan necessitated they retreat, with the idea being to lure most of the Death Eater numbers and strength inside. They were a distraction, buying time for whatever the primary plan actually was. It irritated the former Minister that he did not even know for certain what was going on, he'd simply been given instructions, told this was all part of Harry Potter's gambit, the solution he'd landed upon in his mandate to defeat the Dark Lord.
Scrimgeour still could not quite believe that an entire war was being waged at the whims of an insane seventeen year old schoolboy. And worse, the undeniable fact that he was far more successful than anyone else when doing so.
Abandoning the castle, Scrimgeour and his forces moved toward the Forbidden Forest. They would fight their way past whatever army was between them and safety. If what he'd been told was true, this might not be as difficult as it sounded. Apparently there would be chaos and confusion enough to prevent too much organised resistance.
"Teams two and three, take down that Giant," ordered the former Minister. "Team one, you are with me on rearguard."
Fifteen minutes and a handful of minor skirmishes later, the Aurors and Militia came across Harry and Lily Potter, Sirius and Bellatrix Black, and a small handful of other fighters who had not been present during the Fall of Hogwarts.
They seemed quite chipper.
Scrimgeour led the Aurors to Albus Dumbledore and a large, tightly maintained warding which sparkled a bright carmine hue. With the Death Eaters in charge of the school, and as no fighting was going on, they all crowded around to get a closer look at what was happening.
Someone was fighting the Dark Lord.
And whoever it was appeared to be winning.
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Voldemort had taken to banishing anything and everything he could at her, coordinating these attacks with sacrificial animals, dropping conjured and disillusioned boulders from great heights, and basically doing anything and everything he could think of to work around the limitations forced on him by the Blood Magic.
To be seen as though he were on an even footing with a teenage schoolgirl was humiliating!
Voldemort found himself startled by a sudden and unwelcome realisation. The noise and chaos of battle which had been a constant seemed to have died down. Things were eerily quiet, save for the noises and crashes caused by the two combatants themselves.
The wards—that red and gold net of fire preventing apparition and portkey through his own protections—there were people on the outside. Many people. And they were not allies. Lord Voldemort saw Harry Potter, and the boy gave him a cheeky wave and a grin. This distraction allowed the girl to land a hit on the side of his head, briefly knocking him down in the process.
It was time to leave, regroup, and come up with another plan.
The Dark Lord took to the air, gathering about powers of overland flight he'd personally developed, heading for the ward edge.
"Oh no," the girl admonished. "I do not think so."
With a brandishing motion a long pale light flew from the tip of her wand, wrapping itself many times around his body. It was a binding of the highest order, and it trapped him like a fly on a piece of string. With a big yank of the cord Voldemort was pulled back to the earth and in the instants it took to free himself from the pale green ropes, the girl made her move.
"You see Lord Voldemort," Hermione Granger told him. "I do not wish to kill anyone. However I do not think you are a particularly nice person."
As she spoke her magic was building to an uplifting sound more terrible than anything he'd heard before in his seven decades of life.
Lord Voldemort's body was then destroyed in the annihilating flames of Phoenix Light.
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Fleur dropped the barriers she'd been holding with a sigh of relief, they'd been a little on the magic intensive side and she was becoming quite tired. There was a massive cheer from the Aurors and spectators who'd witnessed Hermione Granger defeating the Dark Lord in single combat, and many of them ran up to her offering congratulations.
Harry, Albus, Tam, Sirius, and everyone else of the crew who were still on their feet did something far more important. They began hurling their Soul Traps in every direction. Each and every one of Harry's friends, as well as Snape, were all equipped with six of the small red and white balls, and now was the time to finally get them out into the field.
The small magical device was of Tam's design. None of them were entirely certain what Voldemort's shade form actually was, but from a few half-baked theories Tam had managed to design something she believed would trap and hold him. Albeit temporarily, as the redhead would readily admit.
This day's plan was not to kill Voldemort.
Killing Voldemort was something they did all the time.
No, today they needed to kill him under controlled circumstances, so they could stop him getting a new body in some pathetically straightforward manner. Harry had a plan to end him for good, but for now, let the little people enjoy their victory.
Harry would bet anything this fight ended up being called the Last Battle.
And that it would always be capitalised.
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Fleur was up and mostly healed so she headed over to where Tam and Harry were standing. Tam moved over to Harry's other side when she noticed the French woman's approach, always a little apprehensive around the three who could burn her body to ash with little more than a brush of their fingertips.
"You did not think this one through did you Harry?" Tam asked, nodding over Fleur's shoulder toward the gathering crowd.
Glad to see the stunning platinum blonde safe and well, Harry dragged her into a relieved kiss, totally ignoring her slight protest, and the coppery taste of blood in her mouth. A blissful moment of oblivion later he turned to where his brother had nodded.
Hermione was being carried on someone's shoulder and there were cheers going up.
Harry suddenly knew exactly what Tam was talking about.
"Oh bloody buggering hell," Harry quietly swore.
"Yep."
"What?" Fleur asked in confusion.
"Who do you think is going to get the credit for defeating the Dark Lord Voldemort now?" Harry voiced in dismay. "Nobody is ever going to believe it was really me who was responsible."
"No they are not," Tam agreed, kind of amused at how things turn out sometimes. "That white magic stuff is pretty powerful though. You have to admit that."
"Was it my imagination or did that kind of sound like Fawkes?"
"'Ze Phoenix?" asked Fleur. "'Zat is what I thought too."
"We'd better break up the party," Harry said after a long moment. "Just because there is no Dark Lord in charge right now, does not mean the Death Eaters have been dealt with. We don't want to get caught by overwhelming numbers who are now in possession of a Castle Fortress not two miles away."
The three made their way over to Dumbledore and the small group crowding around him. "Did we get him?" asked Albus, and Harry held up the tennis ball sized Soul Trap. "And you are really going to go through with your plan?"
"He's a tricky bastard," stated the Chosen One. "He'll eventually figure out a way to escape. Probably soon actually, so I'm thinking I should do it tonight."
"I wish I could say it is a terrible idea, but most of your terrible ideas seem to be far more successful than they ought to be."
"Let's get out of here before we all get killed," said Tam.
...
Distantly one more cheer went up for the greatest witch of the age.