A/N: Dang these chapter take so freaking long to make! Sorry about the space between them, but I hope you can still find enjoyment! This chapter is a long one, so please be sure to show your support with a favorite, follow, and a review!
Chapter XIV: The Battle of London
(Daphne P.O.V)
12 Grimmauld Place always had a specter of dread that roamed its halls. Everyone inside stood on the edge, desperate for a day of peace unlikely to come. Spring was around the corner, but it did little to shake the chills that coursed through Order. It was unspoken, nobody would dare to give voice to it, but the idea that they could win this war felt less and less realistic.
Daphne dipped her hand into the cold water bucket and dabbed at the open cuts on Tracey's face. Blaise's injuries had required a bit more immediate attention, with his cheek split open, but the boy was fast asleep now, thanks to the help of a potion. Daphne's throat went drier than sand at the way Tracey would flinch at her touch. The damage each of them had, without a doubt, taken to their psyche made her heart sink into her stomach.
She could help but think about the idea of a peaceful life with Harry or a long life with her sister after she'd found the cure for her illness. Daphne praised herself on her pragmatism, but that had become the source of much of her recent misery. They'd waged war against a man nigh-unkillable; the most likely odds stated that Astoria wasn't the only one on a fast track to death.
"Hey, are you okay?" Tracy mumbled from her busted lip. "You have that look in your eye when you're deep into a bad thought. Give it to me straight doc, am I gonna die?"
"From a few scrapes, almost certainly," Daphne laughed. "Seriously though, don't move around so much. A couple of stitches and you'll be good as new."
"And my face will still be adorable, right? Because, not to sound vain or anything, but that fact that I'm cute as hell is all I have going for me right now," Tracey smirked.
"You'll be cute as a button. A poorly sewn button if you don't stop moving, but a button for sure." Daphne said dryly.
"Not funny, Daph," Tracey said, her pupils the size of marbles.
"Well, I've never been a comedian. This is the best I've got," Daphne shrugged.
"Guess we should be grateful you never went to an open mic." Tracey looked softly at Daphne with bright, swollen eyes. "I've missed you. Hogwarts, it isn't as fun without you around. Horrible as this situation might be, I'm glad we're together again."
For how long? Daphne wondered but forced a smile to her face. "Yeah, Tracey, I've missed you too. It's almost been too peaceful without you around."
"So, I drive you more insane than a war against Voldemort. I'm not sure if I should take that as a compliment or not," Tracey chuckled. "Seriously though, how have you been?"
"Bad," Daphne replied. "I wish I could say something different, but there isn't really much of a point lying to you. Life, well, it hasn't exactly been swell."
"Yeah, sorry, dumb question," Tracey nodded. "Guess part of me hoped your life here was a little better than the castle. Neville, he's been doing a great job, but he's not Harry, you know? Some people think Harry doesn't have what it takes to stop the Dark Lord anymore, and we're losing the battle of goodwill. We're constantly trying to apply Band-Aids, but the bleeding is so severe. Harry though, he can do it, right?"
The fear radiated from Tracey's eyes like nuclear fallout, but Daphne couldn't answer. She'd die fighting; not that she had much of a choice anymore, but the fact that Harry himself didn't think he could take the Dark Lord didn't exactly fill her with consequences. Tracey repeated the question, and Daphne sighed, "He'll do his best. I know that much for sure."
The room flinched at the knock on the door. Daphne waved her wand and opened the door as the man in question walked in. She knew the look on Harry's face far too well. Something had happened, and whatever it was, it wasn't good. She sent him a soft glance and returned her attention to Tracey's wound care before weakly she whispered, "Who died?"
"I'm that transparent, huh?" Harry said faintly. Daphne only nodded, but Harry shook his head, "I have no idea; I came to get you because I need your help. The Dark Mark is over the Ministry; we need to rescue as many people as we can. But if Voldemort's there, our runic-bond, it might be our only chance."
Daphne nodded and finished her treatment of Tracey before she turned to face her lover. His eyes said it all. They screamed with concern and unspoken guilt. It was something she loved about Harry; he wanted her to be happy more than anything. The fact that their lives, her life, hung by a thread every day weighed heavier on his mind than his own mortality. She smiled softly and glanced out the window.
Daphne stood at Harry's side and intertwined her fingers with his. Words formed on Harry's lips, though Daphne silenced him with her fingers. "It's a beautiful night," Daphne said warmly. Yes, it's a gorgeous night to die.
Harry only nodded and led her from the room. The thoughts that must have rushed through the raven-haired wizard's mind, Daphne couldn't even imagine. Whatever happened, though, she'd face them with Harry, and whatever the result, she'd accept it.
The Order members available for deployment gathered by the fire, and instantly, their lessened manpower stuck out. Sirius, Remus, Harry, Charlie, Bill, Fleur, with Merlin only knew how many contacts were located elsewhere. Daphne hated to admit it, but Michael's lack of presence dampened the mood deeply. The boy was a skilled fighter, and with Neville not available either, the odds of success didn't feel high.
There was a pregnant pause; now would normally have been the time where Moody gave some atrocious pep-talk about how we'll die honorably. No speech came, and horrendous as they were, Daphne almost missed it. It was Harry who cleared his throat and broke the silence. "Thank you for coming so quickly. We know that these kind of responsive maneuvers are not the position we'd like to find ourselves in, but if we don't reply to Voldemort's message, all resistance will lose hope."
"The Ministry of Magic is a symbol. Many believe it to be the Head of the Snake. If we show that we are unable to defend the Ministry, our support will crumble. We are outnumbered, out-gunned, and truthfully, oddsmakers wouldn't bet on our success. But we have something Voldemort doesn't have; a reason to fight!" Harry's cry grew with every word, "All of us in this room have had ourselves or a loved one taken or hurt by those bastards. Justice is on our side. So let's make them feel it."
"The strategy is simple," Harry said as the cheers in the room died. "Rescue civilians and give the Deaters hell. If a situation is getting too dangerous, retreat. Aside from that, assume decentralized control and do what you have to do. Amelia Bones is a priority to save, as well as Kingsly Shacklebolt. We can't let Voldemort get them. With that said, good luck."
It had happened so fast, some by floo inside the ministry, others by apparation. Daphne and Harry they'd landed on the roof of a Whitehall, London building to witness the disgusting banner of discrimination that hung in the sky. "Well, there goes the beautiful night sky," Daphne sighed.
Harry smiled softly, "Are you ready?" Daphne nodded, and Harry's lips broke the short silence once more, "I love you."
"Always," Daphne returned before the two peaked behind their stone covers to survey the situation. "Alright then Flyboy, what's the plan?"
If Daphne had X-Ray vision, she might have been able to see the gears turn in Harry's head. Her boyfriend's emerald eyes scanned the streets that flickered with fire, and each scream made his ears perk. At that moment, Daphne couldn't imagine what it must have been like to be able to sense magical energy. All she could do was assume that it was overwhelming.
Harry's fingers tapped against the stones frantically before they suddenly came to a pause, "Okay, here's what we've gotta do. I'm going to have them focus their fire on me. When that's happening, you start taking them out from behind cover. If you can't do that, then shuttle them back from the ministry."
"And if Voldemort arrives?" Daphne asked.
"Get back to me ASAP or leave. Don't engage under any circumstances," Harry said fiercely. "The same for Carmilla. We're here to mitigate damage, not to die."
The notion of the Vampire Queen made her blood run cold. Daphne didn't even get to consent to the plan before Harry leaped to the roof of the building beside them and jumped from the rooftop. "Damn it, Potter, why can't you ever just wait a second?"
In battle, Harry's prowess never ceased to amaze her. Daphne was glad that Harry wasn't a man so easy to kill. She'd lived most of her life without the Boy-Who-Lived. Yet, the thought of time without him now haunted her dreams. Even more so, however, was that her role of backup felt far from necessary. It was in the way Harry batted away spells, his footwork, his vision; her father had told her tales of Alastor Moody when she was younger. When she looked at Harry, she saw much of the man's legend in her lover's movements.
Daphne stood behind cover. She whispered spells that launched into the crowd of Death Eater new-bloods; pawns yet to earn their mark. Tracey's words had plagued her with every curse she fired into the crowd. How many wanted to be there? How many had only chosen this path to try and secure their place in the Dark Lord's world that seemed to be the inevitable future? They'd made their choice, just as she had, but could she blame them.
Blood gushed from a black-cloaked torso from her cutting curse. Not that long ago, the sight would have made her nauseous. Now, she felt nothing. It wasn't the first man whose life she might have taken, and most likely, it wouldn't be the last.
From the corridor, Harry held the Death Eater's attention with waves of his signature black flames. Wind swirled around the tip of his wand like a twister before he sent it through the alleyway. Daphne's nails chipped against the brickwork and her fingers blistered from the grip mandated to keep her from a sudden transformation into a kite. Harry never seemed to recall just how powerful he was when he dueled, but the boy dared not hold back. There was far too much at stake.
Her magic flooded her arm before she released a geyser of water into the air that rained down on the troops that Harry had pushed back. In her free-hand, she conjured an electric current and held it to the geyser's base. What had once been confused murmurs of the sudden rain turned to screams of pain as electrified droplets rained down on them like arrows.
Not one to leave her skills predictable, Daphne readied her next move. With the flick of her wand, she canceled the geyser and immobilized the droplets yet to fall. With a twist of the wood in her hand, the droplets turned to shards of ice, and with a smirk, she muttered, "Enjoy this present from Slytherin's Ice Queen you bastards."
She yanked her arm down, and the icy shards barraged them. Some wailed with pain, others screeched with fear, but those unable to shield themselves from their cloaks and skin shredded by the vicious onslaught. Daphne's knee hit the rooftop hard as she panted; her magical reserve was nowhere near the likes of Harry, Neville, or Michael's. There wasn't time to complain, though; they needed to keep moving. They still had a long night ahead of them.
Harry's eyes met her from the street, and he nodded proudly. Daphne smiled and mouthed a yes to his unasked question. Harry rolled his shoulders to loosen himself up before, together they raced towards the next enlarged force.
Daphne had seen battlefields before. None of them were as organized as the storybooks promoted them, though she'd never seen chaos quite like this. Aurors moved in black clouds of smoke only to be intercepted mid-air. All the while oblivators desperately kicked in muggle shops and houses to move them away from the madness while obliviating them. It was a nightmare to put it kindly, but she couldn't lose focus.
"Reducto!" She shouted towards the Death Eater that darted towards Harry, who'd found himself busy with two other Deater's that sprung out from the shadows. Blood splattered on the back of Harry's shirt, but the boy didn't even flinch before he used the body of one death eater to bludgeon the other. Daphne could only guess the years of therapy an event like this would cause her in the future, but on the list of things that concerned her, that one was relatively low.
"Hold the line!" An auror roared in the distance. "Hold your ground you fuckin cowards!"
Chills raced down Daphne's spine at the enemy the aurors were loosing to in fantastic fashion. Their skin was sallow and gaunt. Many of them had detached limps or visible innards. They were no Death Eaters, which meant only one thing; they had some more significant problems to deal with. In a rose of blue flames, Fleur sprouted before the auror and blasted her fire into the crowd of thralls while Bill shot explosion curses into the undead horde.
It was Harry who roared out next, "Fall back! Get to the ministry and hold the door!"
From her position on the rooftop, she couldn't confirm it, but Daphne was confident that the auror who Harry had undercut looked about ready to pop like a balloon from anger. Harry sent the man one of his patented, 'You listen to me, or I'll kill you myself' glances, however, and the auror quickly fell in line.
Daphne forced air from the tip of her wand to support her jump to the next roof and rolled onto the hard stone with a grunt. She shook the pain off quickly and pointed her wand into the crowd of thralls. She shouted every fire spell she knew. The alleyway looked like an ocean of flames, but the dead kept on.
"Fleur! Bill! Get Back!" Harry roared. The two order members nodded and jumped behind Harry before he slammed his hands on the ground and commanded the earth the rise.
The building Daphne had found herself atop of creaked and cracked, and the damage Harry caused to the foundations. The dirt broke through the pavement and formed a wall that met her at eye level. Fleur and Bill helped Harry to his feet, but Daphne couldn't pull herself from the sight beneath her. The wall had bought them time, but far less than Harry probably hoped. Within seconds, the dead began to use themselves like stepping stools to climb over the barrier.
"Gotta stop them," Daphne panted. Her arm ached with every movement, and her bones felt brittle. She'd imagined they'd be outnumbered, but it was hard to truly imagine by how much, even for those familiar with the thralls. "Incindi-"
A sharp pain hit her ribcage and sent her rolling along the rooftop. Daphne scrambled to her feet and clutched her side. Her eyes widened at the sound her bones made with just a little bit of added pressure. Harry screamed for her from below, but she couldn't even find the air to breathe, let alone speak.
The smoke in the distance swirled, and the click of heels rattled against the cement roof. "Now, now. My little thralls just want to play a little bit. It's quite rude of you to ruin their fun."
Daphne's heart stopped at the sultry voice. The woman's eyes peered through the smoke like car headlights, and her wand arm trembled against her will. "Oh, look at you," the voice through the smoke said, "You're trembling like a leaf. Don't worry, I won't make the same mistake and play with you this time." Carmilla emerged from the smoke and licked her lips, "I'll kill you quickly."
"No!" Daphne screamed, her mind a hazy cloud, "Stay away!" Water flew from her wand and took the shape of a snake before it plunged towards the woman.
Carmilla only smiled and turned to mist. She continued to walk closer to Daphne, her entire torso nothing but a red cloud. "You didn't actually think that would work, did you? Our reports say that you're one of the smarter ones."
"Stay back!" Daphne howled.
"I'd rather not," Carmilla said. "I must admit, your survival is rather surprising to me. I was certain my attack on you at Gringotts would have killed you. You must tell me though, how badly did it hurt?"
Daphne's lips trembled, but no words emerged. The Vampire Queen smiled, "Ah, no response; perhaps you need a reminder? I don't have the venom any longer," The vampire queen's nails sharpened at her will, "But I suppose we'll make due."
"Reducto!" Harry shouted. The blue light crashed into the mist made woman and zipped through her head. Daphne's breath shook while Harry stepped in front of her. "Daphne, what's gotten into you?"
"I don't know," Daphne whispered, "Harry I don't know how to beat her."
Harry's jaw tightened, and he lowered his stance. Carmilla studied the two of them closely and pouted, "Well, two on one hardly seems fair. But I suppose I can entertain you a while boy until my partner arrives."
(Harry P.O.V)
Being outnumbered was nothing new to Harry. When one decides to wage war against the undead, numbers are never in their favor. What Harry hadn't considered was that not everyone had his nature ingrained in their souls. Harry no longer valued his own life. Not that he'd dare tell anyone. If he had to die to finish this war, he'd do so without hesitation. It was easier to beg for forgiveness from heaven or hell than to ask for permission from the likes of Sirius or Daphne to die.
The Ice Queen of Slytherin didn't have the same conviction. Few did. Sirius had proven his willingness to die for the cause many times over. Harry knew Michael and Neville were cut from the same cloth. Neville for his own vengeance, and Michael due to loyalty that would have left Hufflepuff enamored. But Slytherins, by their nature, didn't share the same conviction. Daphne knew war, she'd faced death, but it is easy to theorize about insurmountable odds; Harry knew it was far different to meet them.
He'd been a fool to think that Daphne had recovered so quickly. How could he have forgotten how it felt the first time he'd been on Death's Door. All the fear he held towards the snake-faced demon known as Voldemort, Daphne undoubtedly felt towards Carmilla. And, as is Daphne's way, she hadn't spoken of it.
Harry's girlfriend shook like a candle in the wind. Daphne would need time to get herself together if she could at all, and no reinforcements were on their way. Only Fleur and Bill were within earshot, and they looked to have a wave of the dead to repel along with their queen. Carmilla just licked her lips with anticipation. Harry doubted the Vampire Queen herself believed she could beat him, but then again, she didn't need to. His death wasn't the point of the mission.
The wood of the Elder Wand felt like hot iron in his hand. The Queen of the Undead bared her fangs and sprang forward only to turn to mist when Harry released a bolt of white magic into her head. He jumped backward just as Carmilla materialized and swiped at him with her jagged nails before he sent a stunner too close for her to evade.
Carmilla rolled along the marbled rooftop and hissed from the impact. To her credit, she didn't stay down long. Her skin was thicker than that of a normal man's. Had he or any of the living tumbled like the witch, scrapes would have littered their bodies. Carmilla, however, arose unscathed.
"I must admit, boy, you are quite skilled." Carmilla smiled, "Perhaps after you die, I'll raise you as a thrall. It would be a shame to let talent like yours go to waste."
"A tempting offer, but I think I'll pass," Harry replied.
Carmilla laughed a cold, metallic laugh, "Ah, I see why the auror spoke so highly of you. Your humor matches your skill. But as Severus learned before I made him pop like a balloon; you cannot refuse my offers."
The name of the Potions Master made his blood run cold, but it had been at a boil previously at the mention of his mentor. A vision of Moody's undead form clouded Harry's mind and made his stomach churn. The way Carmilla chuckled only brought more evidence to his belief that the vampiric witch could see through him. "Worry not, it would be impossible for me to revive him as a thrall."
Harry tilted his eyebrow in confusion which only seemed to light the fire of Carmilla's joy further. "My servants tore him to pieces to feast on. Not even I could bring a man back in such condition."
Harry snarled like a wolf and lifted his wand. They'd desecrated his mentor's body, and he wouldn't allow the mockery to stand. His feet shuffled against the cracks that stretched across the rooftop before, this time, he charged her. Harry ran so fast he'd almost taken flight, and the vampire welcomed his assault. Bolt after bolt, each with a different shade, bombarded the Red Queen only for them to erupt on the other side of her mist-made form.
Carmilla soared at him in her blood-red cloud. Harry rolled from the craters she made in the stone with every attack aimed at him. It was insanity; why had he thought the same tactics would be effective? In fairness, Harry hadn't thought at all. It often led to more trouble than it was worth. His instincts kept him alive, and most of the time, they were correct—most of the time.
A scream erupted from the streets below where Fleur and Bill tried to hold back the tide with a broom. His transfigured wall helped slow the pace, but the wave seemed endless. Harry's moment of distraction had broken costly at the sharp pain that dug into his side. Carmilla was faster and far more silent than Harry had given her credit for, and now her nails dug into the side of his torso.
Droplets of blood fell on his palm from the forced cough, and, as if Harry had forgotten himself a wizard, he slammed his fist into Carmilla's cheek. To his credit, the strike had worked, and the nails of the vampire queen ejected from Harry's side as she hit the ground.
Rage festered in Carmilla's dead eyes like a virus. It alone would have been enough to cause chills. Unfortunately for Harry, even Carmilla's own brand of terror paled in comparison to the ungodly pool of magic he sensed in the distance. "You look about ready to brown your trousers, Potter. As I told the blonde, she's not the only one who has powerful friends."
Harry, in all his life, had never heard the word friend carry a less sincere meaning. Though that mattered little when compared to the situation on its way. His eyes darted between Daphne and Carmilla, and with his back to Daphne, he stumbled to her side. In perfect health, he didn't know just exactly how much damage he could do to Voldemort. With two injuries, his chances were as close to zero as possible. Worse yet, Carmilla had allowed him to return to Daphne's side without resistance. If Harry knew one thing, it was that whenever your enemy starts to treat battle like a game, they are either stupid or powerful. Neither Carmilla nor the Dark Lord were fools, which only meant the worse.
The chill the Dark Lord brought with him was deeper than those of the Dementors he once ruled. Harry almost snickered at the power of the man that hovered above him. How had the tables turned so drastically? He once lorded power over the old wizard; now, he felt like an ant in the presence of an elephant. The Dark Lord descended by the Vampire Queen's side. Not a single word fell from his lips at his comrade's position. Had the wizard even considered the Red Queen a comrade? It was a question Harry already knew the answer to. Voldemort loved nothing more than himself and his deceased snake.
The Dark Lord drew his wand and bowed. It was almost comical. The difference in their power left Harry's mouth dry, but he had wounded the man, and it seemed as if the Dark Lord had, at the very least, ceased to disrespect him.
"Harry Potter, you and I are both aware of the prophecy." Voldemort's statement required no answer; they both knew the truth. Though how much of the prophecy Voldemort knew was still unclear to Harry. "With that knowledge, I see no reason to draw this out any longer. I'll kill you here, and once I've done that, I will deliver your head to the ministry and make it clear as daylight that they have lost. I will then slaughter all those who continue to oppose me and begin my reign."
"Was there a question in that second part?" Harry asked.
"No," Voldemort replied dryly, "I no longer have any need for questions. I give orders, and they are followed. Bow, Harry Potter, and let our duel commence."
"You know, I thought about it, but I'd really rather not," Harry said.
"Very well. I want you to know that I'd have liked to train you up as my second if there was another way. You have a skill that even I have been forced to acknowledge. I offered you an honorable death. But so be it, you'll die a foolish rebel to the new way." Every muscle in Harry's body tightened at the green hue that built up at the tip of the Dark Lord's wand before he said, in a tone as even as a steel blade, "Avada Kedavra."
Green flashed before his eyes and pain-filled his whole body as he grabbed Daphne and rolled off the roof with her in his arms. Harry pointed his wand towards the alley to summon a gust of wind to break their fall, but that hadn't proven the most effective with the weight of two bodies. Harry shifted his back towards the ground and took the impact. His lungs vacated themselves of air, replaced with a groan.
Fleur and Bill raced to his side and dragged the two of them from the road filled by burned thralls. Harry placed his hand to Daphne's cheek, her eyes hollow and distant. Her face was cold to the touch, and her teeth chattered without resistance. "Daphne, I need you to come back. I need you here with me."
"What happened to her?" Bill asked.
"I don't know," Harry said. "At first, I thought it was fear, but the way the Vampire Queen was able to predict my questions, it's almost like she has her own form of legilimency. It's like she sent Daphne's fear into overdrive."
"Harry Potter!" Voldemort bellowed from the street that fed into the alley where they'd taken refuge. "Do not hide from me! Come and face me! At least have the decency to die the way your pure-blood father did!"
Smoke nearly shot from Harry's ears. The gears of his brain spun in overdrive, desperate to think of a plan, but nothing came. His runic bond with Daphne was their only chance. Even that was slim, but it was something. They couldn't lose here. Harry wouldn't allow it. Yet, though his gears turned and turned, no idea emerged.
"We'll buy you time," Bill said. "You're our only shot at victory, so you do what you need to do or retreat. We can't have you die here, Potter."
"You can't fight him," Harry hissed, desperate to not draw the Dark Wizard's attention. "You won't last ten seconds against the likes of him."
"Then I guess I'll buy you nine," Bill said with a smile. "That bastard is responsible for my baby brother and sister's death. I won't let him win this war."
"Sorry," Bill said grimly with a look at Fleur, "I didn't mean to include you in my mission. If you'd like to stay back here or-"
"The members of my family keep their word," Fleur said. "We are a team in this war; I intend to honor that agreement."
"If we somehow make it through this-," Bill said, "Would you maybe like to-,"
"Yes," Fleur said with a smile.
Bill glanced back at Harry, "Looks like I really need to make an effort to live now, don't I?"
"Thank you, Bill, Fleur," Harry said weakly. "Survive." The two nodded before together, they bolted from the alleyway. Harry glanced back down at the expressionless blonde propped against the stone wall. "Daphne, I need you here. Please, come back."
Harry pressed his forehead against hers and gripped her hands tightly, "Come on, Princess. Come back." Magic flooded from his wrist into Daphne's, and with tightly clenched eyes, Harry tried to ignore the sound of electrical cracks and screams from the battle mere seconds away. "Come on Princess, it's time to wake up!"
Then, just as it had before, the color of Daphne's eyes shifted towards one of icy to blue to a deep cyan. "Harry?" She whimpered, "What happened to me?"
"Doesn't matter now," Harry said firmly. "What's important is that we have company. Can you move?"
She nodded then placed her hand on Harry's bloody torso, "You're hurt?"
"Not important, love," Harry said with a shake of his head, "Come on, we've gotta move."
Harry could see that myriad of questions behind Daphne's eyes, now a blend of his own and hers, but there was no time. As if to emphasize, Fleur's voice screamed out, a scream that could only be conjured by the red, torturous curse. Voldemort had a begrudging respect for him, but for his allies, Harry knew Voldemort cared little.
Daphne swallowed hard, but he clenched her hand tightly. Harry could feel his lover's heart pound through her fingertips. She was afraid, but she didn't run. Harry loved that about her. How badly he wanted to tell her that it was going to be okay, but he couldn't lie to her; he couldn't promise her that. Harry lifted her wand, and Daphne mirrored him, "It's a beautiful night," Harry returned, "Not a bad one if this is our last."
The meekest of smiles crossed Daphne's lips, and together in a bright glow, they emerged from the alley. Harry didn't say a word but swung his wand like a whip and sent the Dark Lord crashing into the stone wall. He was exerting power equal to that of Daphne's. Though not at full power, as Daphne may not have been able to handle it, the magnification of their might still left Harry stronger than he had been the last time he and Dark Lord crossed paths.
The building that Voldemort had been shoved into shattered with a furious roar and turned to rubble. The Dark Lord shot another bolt of green in his direction, but Harry tilted his head from the killing curse and let it soar by. Daphne countered with a blue-coated spell that forced Voldemort back behind his quickly conjured shield. Then, it was his turn, and Harry shot a white-hot bold at the Dark Lord's shield. Once more, it pushed him back.
He could hear Daphne's thoughts like they were his own. Even at their current input, it wasn't enough. Harry shot a glance at Fleur and Bill. The two needed no further instructions and ran, though Carmilla gave them chase. Harry wanted to stop her, but to take his eyes of Riddle, even for a second, was beyond unwise.
"Can we make it any stronger?" Daphne asked, though her breath was ragged.
"Your body won't be able to handle it," Harry whispered back.
"That doesn't really matter now, does it?" Daphne retorted, "If the option is certain death, or a chance to live, the choice is easy isn't it?"
Harry couldn't fault the logic and began to summon more of his magic into their bond. He could hear Daphne's bit back screams in her head, but the ground shook at their even growing core. "Just hang on Daphne," Harry muttered and continued to build their magical power. "We'll end this in one blow."
"Hurry!" Daphne cried out.
"Reducto!" Harry shouted. A bolt larger than Harry had ever conjured flung from his wand like a bullet from a gun barrel and knocked him and Daphne back. Harry groaned from his collision but watched without a breath as the blue blot slammed into Voldemort's reconjured shield and shattered it like glass.
Blood erupted from Voldemort's mouth and splattered on the ground from the impact. His breaths were stressed and heavy. Harry snickered, "Alright, I lied, just one more-," but his voice fell silent as the boost faded in an instance. Harry turned to Daphne and felt his heart stop at the blood that dripped down Daphne's arm. It had looked like the girl's rune arm had been flayed from the wrist up with muscle and on full display.
His breaths grew faster; he'd been right about the impact the amplification would have on Daphne. Harry lunged down and placed his ear to her chest to hear the faintest heartbeat. What do I do? Harry hissed to himself. The first step was clear, at least. Harry lifted his wand towards the Dark Lord and howled, "Reducto!" but no magic spewed from his wand.
Not good. The bond amplification had messed with his own magical system as well. He didn't like his odds against Voldemort alone when at full strength. Without his magic, Harry liked the idea even less. A sudden weariness came for him like the shadows of the grave, but he couldn't stay put. Though his muscles screamed for mercy, he pulled Daphne into his arm. Then, he did the least Gryffindorish thing he could think of, he ran. He had to get to the Ministry. He needed to find Sirius
(Sirius P.O.V)
Carnage, Sirius had grown weary of the sound. James had once told him as a joke during their time in the first war that life could only get better from there. He'd laughed that it couldn't get much worse. In that regard, Sirius had been relieved James had died. He'd always been the optimist; Sirius was less so.
It was a mixture of pride and frustration that plagued his heart at all times. In one respect, he was proud of his godson. The boy had become a wizard beyond what Sirius had ever expected. On the other hand, James had made him promise that he'd look out for Lily and Harry should the worse come to pass. Sirius had failed the promise to Lily, and now, it was Harry that was more capable of protecting him than the alternative. So, in that way, Sirius supposed he'd failed again.
Sirius was almost a master artist of failures at this point. He wondered what James and Lily would look like when he saw them again; if he saw them again. How many people had he failed in his life? Did people like him deserve that kind of happiness in death?
It was the bump of Remus against him that woke him from his thoughts. "Now's not the time to daydream!" Remus barked out. He was right. They'd found the Ministry swarmed with Death Eaters, but they had found the Minister unharmed. As for the aurors, that was a different story.
Their bodies littered the Ministry's polished floors, and their blood stained the ground and putrid red. They'd lost many men, but they'd found one as well, and that, at least, was good fortune.
Kingsley Shacklebolt was a tall, broad-shouldered, black wizard. He was bald and fit, with a slow deep voice that never quickened, even in a situation like the one they'd found themselves in. Sirius had heard the rumors that Shacklebolt was the second-coming of Mad-Eye Moody in some circles. Sirius hadn't fully believed that until he'd had the pleasure of seeing Shacklebolt at work. Sirius had arrived just in time to witness the dark-skinned auror flick one death eater into another death eater so hard that they both broke their necks. After that, Sirius had no further questions.
"In Minister," Shacklebolt commanded in his honey-like voice. "This Floo is secured and will get you to the Order safe house. Go." Amelia Bones nodded gratefully and ducked into the green flames just as Shacklebolt flung a spell into the air without so much as a glance and blew a death eater into red powder.
"Remus, you next!" Sirius hissed, "Then you Kingsley! I'm going to find Harry!"
"You're not going out there alone!" Remus said, but Sirius only smiled and pushed his friend into the still green flames. "Sirius you bas-" Sirius didn't catch the rest of the werewolf's message, but he was confident that he'd gotten the gist.
"Best of luck to you out there, Black," Kingsley said.
"Thanks," Sirius said, "Knowing me, I'll need it."
Sirius' body felt on autopilot as he dodged and countered spells that rained on him like hellfire. None of that mattered. Only one thing held his focus, Harry. His godson had taken up command of the battle outside the Ministry's walls, and even from within the halls of the building, Sirius could hear the madness. When he saw it though, his blood froze.
Fires burned, buildings laid ruined, unspeakable monsters that had once been men littered the streets. "Just what the fuck happened here?" He said aloud.
Even in his quickened pace, the images of London aflame burned themselves into his memory. These people weren't wizards; they had no stake in Voldemort's war. Yet, without hesitation, they attacked. Sirius had no doubt that somehow, the ministry had a contingency plan for something like this. Something to preserve the statute of secrecy. It was clear, though, that Voldemort seemed to care little for anything else other than the deaths of those who opposed him. Their secrecy be damned.
Sirius' legs burned like he'd ran for miles, but only smoke coated his vision. His body pulsed madly. He'd never loved strategy. Even in his calmest states, a good strategy weighed heavy on his mind, and now, he was anything but calm.
"Harry!" He screamed at the top of his lungs, unsure of what else to do. "Harry!"
As if the gods themselves had called out to him, a voice broke out in the distance, "Sirius!" It was Harry's voice. Beyond all reason, beyond all logic, Harry had heard him. Sirius sprinted towards the boy but stopped inches of hugging him when he saw the damage to the girl. The hug could wait; their retreat was paramount. Sirius had been in a lot of battles in his day. Though, never before had he been so confused if they'd won or lost.
A/N: I've been trying to improve at battle scenes, I really do hope you'll let me know what you think. If you enjoyed this chapter, please be sure to Follow, Favorite, and Review! Until next time, Peace!