Posting for HP:AoM will be completed before the end of the month. please R&R, and enjoy. ~F
Chapter Twelve
Rending the Earth
It had taken several weeks for her to heal, but finally Bellatrix was back on her feet after her humiliation at Malfoy Manor. She still was adjusting to the loss of her limb, especially as it had been her preferred wand hand, but down in the dungeons of Hogwarts with little to occupy herself she took to as strenuous training as she could muster to perfect her spell work with her off hand. Fueled by a passionate rage against the Istari and her traitorous nephew, Bellatrix pushed herself to re-master spells that she had at one time perfected.
During one of these intense training regiments, Bellatrix whirled as someone opened the door of the dungeon classroom she was sequestered in. she only lowered her wand when she recognized the Dark Lord's newest protégé, Theodore Nott.
"So it's true, Snape is keeping you here secretly…" the boy said smugly, a tarnished crown nested in his hair. There was something about the tone of the boy's voice, Bellatrix had a hard time placing it, but it reminded her of the Dark Lord somehow.
"What do you want…?" Bellatrix said hoarsely, her voice still recovering from screaming in agony.
"Oh, I think you have a pretty good idea what I want," the boy replied, smirking, "this school is worthless to me, I'm not learning a blasted thing that will help fighting the Dark Lord's battles, but you could teach me much, much more…"
"And why should I do that?" Bellatrix retorted, sneering at the brat that though he could order her, the Dark Lord's most faithful, around.
"Because you would simply love to make sure that another of the Dark Lord's specially chosen succeeds, because you'd get all the glory for it. Think of it: however well I do for the Dark Lord, it will always be you who taught me what I know…"
"Hmm…" Bellatrix said, considering the prospect. True, she gained very little from helping the boy, but even the possibility of securing her place as the Dark Lord's favored was extremely tempting.
"Alright, I'll teach you what I can, but it won't be easy, if you even survive…" she said nastily, smirking
"Oh, I look forward to it," the boy replied darkly, eyes gleaming in time with the little silver crown on his head. Bellatrix smirked; she could see a great deal that she liked about this boy, so drastically different he was from dear old Draco. She would mould the boy into a fighter, and together they would lead about the establishment of the Dark Lord's empire.
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The plans for attack on Gringotts were put together far faster than any of their previous offensives, Harry thought, but he attributed the haste to them all riding off the victory at Malfoy manor along with the feeling of urgency from a possible location of another Horcrux. With only two of the dreadful artifacts left, any lead was to be taken as seriously as possible, for the sake of ending the war as quickly as they could.
Not that they had been entirely action-less while they developed their battle plans these last few weeks. In fact, Faykan had led several important raids out into the wide open country of Britain, falling upon and slaughtering caravans of orcs and their allies, trying to delay what felt like a major attack of Voldemort's that was brewing. Sadly they were unaware of what his target this time was.
Through information relayed by the goblins in exile, Harry and Faykan had reopened the portal to the underground kingdom, sending in many goblin miners and laborers to start work on defensive structures in the cave they had evacuated from previously, and begin clearing out the tunnels to reopen their route into the rest of the subterranean sections of the bank.
"So we're agreed," Faykan said as the five of them, plus Neville who had remained as their emissary to the Beornings, looked over a scale image of the underground passages of the bank, "when we storm the lower levels, I will take a small raiding party along with Harry, and make for the lowest levels and the LeStrange vault, while Draco, Hermione and Ron will take the majority of our forces and scour the bank of all the filth of orc, retaking this place for the goblins."
"Agreed," Harry said, listening more to the internal commentary that sounded between his and Faykan's mind than the actual spoken words. It was far easier to communicate with his fellow Istari via thought than anything else, even if it was off putting for some of the more observant of their group, especially Hermione. 'Perhaps one day she will understand,' Faykan commented idly while the others discussed this or that specific of the plan.
They were all interrupted; however, when a dwarf entered the hall, carrying a small horn and announcing with a deep booming voice, "Hail Thráin IV, King Under the Mountain, Lord of the Sons of Durin, Fundin, Lord of Moria, and Borin II, Lord of Aglarond!"
Faykan and Harry stood as the dwarven precession entered, and even the goblins of Gringotts that had been invited to offer their expertise looked astonished at the dwarve's appearance, clad in armor of studded iron and silver. "Hail Lords Alatar and Calenrohtar, great allies of the mortal races of this world," Thráin said as he approached, a wide smile on his face, all shadows of despair and doom fled.
"My friends," Faykan said, genuinely confused, "what brings you to our humble staging grounds and base?"
The three dwarf lords laughed, their merry voices shattering the serious gloom of preparing for battle, "Once, some time ago," Borin said, stepping forward, "I made the promise that you may yet be granted a legion of dwarven warriors for your cause. As per the last wishes of Náin, and further for the honor of the Sons of Durin, we have come with reinforcements and warnings. Tidings reached us as we crossed the Isen, a massive force of darkness marched on the boarders of the forest. You have been discovered."
"What?" Harry heard himself say, barely audible to his own ears over the storm of whirling speech in his mind that exploded silently from Faykan. Up the stairs they both flew, leaving the others in their haste. As they mounted the pinnacle of Orthanc, Harry's eyes were instantly drawn westward, where a great plume of smoke could be seen, well beyond the borders of Fanghorn, but too close to be mere chance.
"It seems our plans must change." Faykan stated, also watching the far cloud of smoke and ash.
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Hermione's head spun slightly at the events caused by the arrival of the dwarf lords. Faykan and Harry mutually stormed away to see for themselves the report of an advancing army, while Ron, Draco and the goblins set about pulling as much information from the newest arrivals as possible.
Hermione herself was unsure what to do to be most helpful. She thought perhaps she ought to go check on Mr. Ollivander again, but before she could stand to depart, Faykan and Harry returned.
"This complicates thing drastically," Harry began without preamble, as though they hadn't left. "Voldemort's forces are too close for us to leave this place undefended, if they somehow manage to pierce the defensive wards as well as our other measures of security."
"We may be able to assist with that matter, and allow your newest attack to continue," King Thráin said, his eyes changing from their soft cheeriness to flint, "who knows the underground reaches of tunnel combat better than the dwarves of Durin? Send us to fight alongside your goblin friends, and we shall put the fear of stone in the hearts of these orcs. That will at the same time allow you to leave behind all your warriors that you would have committed to this battle to defend whatever evil comes for you."
Faykan seemed to calculate the option for a moment, Harry looking over at him while remaining silent and Hermione couldn't get over the thought that the pair had some method of communication that surpassed their ability to hear it.
"It's a good plan," Faykan said, before nodding at Harry, "We'll need to split up our group to cover both places, but I feel that we can gain a small element of surprise by attacking while Voldemort thinks he has the upper hand. I will remain, with Hermione and Ron if they will allow it, and we will organize the defense of Orthanc if it comes to a battle here, while Harry and Draco will continue with the normal attack plan, Harry taking over my role and the Dwarves substituting in for the Rohirrim."
Harry and Draco nodded, before departing with the dwarf lords to gather King Thráin's warriors. Meanwhile, Faykan led Hermione out to ready the defenses of the tower.
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Draco cautious stepped through the portal that Harry opened, exiting the light of the Germanic countryside and returning to the dark underworld of Gringotts. Feeling far more confident about their chances with the dwarves of Erebor at his side, Draco still couldn't help but wonder about what occurred in the world around them. Was Ginny thinking of him right now?
At his side, King Thráin strode into the darkness of the cavern, observing the gloom and rubble that the goblins had been moving to clear the exit to the rest of the tunnels. "I will not enter battle like a thief in the night," he announced, calling forth several warriors, each bearing massive ram horns. Together they blew, bellowing out a deep groaning sound that rang through the tunnels, stretching for what Draco could only guess was miles.
"Baruk Khazâd!" Thráin cried and the echo was taken up by his warriors, who all turned to follow their king in a mad dash toward the last of the rubble barring their way. Harry locked eyes with Draco, and the heir of the kings of men saw his friend nod, signaling for him to go with the dwarf lords. The dwarves made short work of the barricade, and were pouring through the gap they had created.
Ahead the tunnel split, and Draco wondered how the dwarves knew which direction to turn as they instantly split off from the goblins and Harry, taking the right hand passage as Harry and the goblins veered to the left. Draco paused only for a moment before following the dwarves up toward the main section of the bank.
They jogged for what felt like an hour before sighting their first foe. A band of orcs shrieked in fright as the dwarves set upon them, slaying them with a speed that shocked Draco at the brutality. Shouts of 'Khazâd ai-mênu!' and other dwarven oaths rang through the caverns as more and more orcs appeared out of the tunnels. Even though their mission was only an optional objective, Draco felt as though he had to win in these cave. Drawing forth Andúril, he shouted the war cry of the king of men, charging through the dwarven ranks, who parted to admit him to the front.
There he met up with Thráin, his brother Borin, and their other relatives and fellow lords as they spearheaded the column of dwarves fighting furiously against the front lines of orcs.
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Voldemort looked out over the oncoming forest with disdain, such a meaningless defense from his wrath. To think that his most hated foe had hidden here for so many years, much like Voldemort himself while he wandered as a disembodied spirit.
"What cowards…" he said to himself, looking over the ancient trees before him. turning to the nearest orc, a hulking brute named Muzgash, he spoke coldly, "Burn it down…"
"As you command, my Lord…" the orc responded, bowing low before barking orders in its only guttural tongue to the hosts gathered before them. With a cry of vengeance they ran for the line of trees, torches aloft as they set about igniting the dry foliage.
What happened next was not something the Dark Lord expected.
With a shuddering, groan-like roar, the nearest trees bent themselves over, slamming their branches into the orcs and crushing them with wild roots that flailed in the air threateningly. Voldemort sneered, even nature itself attempted to stand against his right to rule. Leveling his wand, he began the incantation to create powerful gouts of fiendfyre.
Before he could complete however, shrieks from his forces broke his concentration, making his head snap up to see. Warriors poured out of the trees, mounted humans in green and dull browns, and at their head was the one of the few that the Dark Lord hoped to flush out. Shimmering blue cascaded off the staff as magical energy flooded the small glade before the forest.
Alatar the Azure had come to fight the Dark Lord of the Earth.
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Harry knew he would have been lost in the dark caves and tunnels under Gringotts if not for his goblin guides. It took little to no time for them to reach the lowest levels of the bank vaults. With the dwarves causing so much noise in their full force assault of the upper levels of the bank, there was only minor security down in the vaults.
As they reached the finally corridor, the goblins around him started to shift nervously, which concerned Harry, "What?" he said, looking at their uneasy faces.
"We don't have the clankers…" Gornuk explained.
"Alright, what are those?" Harry asked, starting to move forward again, but stopping again when the goblins didn't move.
"A dragon guards the bottom-most vaults, and we need to clankers to get past it and into the vaults," another explained.
"Oh, just a dragon, that's not going to be an issue," Harry said casually, returning to the entrance ahead of them.
Harry had already been aware that there was a powerful and dangerous guardian to the deepest vaults of the bank guarding the lowest, and indeed the founding vaults of the bank. Confidently striding into the final chamber, Harry had a good look at the creature barring their way. Before five large doors was tethered a gigantic pale dragon, its rear legs tethered by chains to the rocky floor.
Who knew how long the poor creature had languished in this underground place. Its eyes had turned a milky pink, nearing total blindness from the lack of sunlight and freedom. Saddened and angered by the cruelty that this creature had suffered, regardless of its origins, Harry made a decision.
Walking confidently toward the beast, he allowed magic to flow through his body, causing him to shine like a beacon in the darkness. The dragon flinched back, unaccustomed to so much light at one time, and reflexively shot a jet of flames at Harry. Raising one hand, the Istari in training conjured a shield so powerful that the dragon fire reflected off to the far sides of the chamber harmlessly.
Whimpering in fear, the Dragon huddled away as Harry approached it. "You poor mistreated creature," he said sadly, laying a gentle hand on the beast. "No more…" he declared, opening himself to the pure power that radiated from Valinor. Pointing his staff, the chains binding the dragon were obliterated, and the creature stretched the limbs cautiously, experimenting with its newfound freedom.
Not content to releasing it from its bond only, Harry focused his power, tearing open a massive gateway to a solitary pacific island, full of food that could sustain the dragon until it was strong enough to venture out on its own. Sniffing the air, the beast took a tentative step toward the open sun, before leaping with a roar of joy, and disappearing into the sea air of the distant island.
Harry allowed a fleeting moment where he watched the freed creature frolic in the open air, unchained and relishing its newfound life, before sealing the gateway and refocusing on the task at hand.
The goblins had dashed in as the dragon surged through the portal, but Harry was deaf to their outrage at releasing their guardian. "Do not attempt to lecture me on the consequences of my actions," he rebuked them, "it is done, your enslaved dragon is freed, the way is clear to the LeStrange vault."
Grumbling, the goblins obeyed the unspoken command to proceed. Gornuk went straight for the rightmost of the massive doors and place his clawed hand upon it, activating the goblin magic the sealed the vault, and causing the door to melt away.
Revealed beyond was a cave-like opening, filled to the brim with treasure: coins and goblets, silver armor, dragon skin and that on many other creatures, potions in jeweled flasks, even a skull still wearing a crown. From outside, Harry could feel the aura of evil; a Horcrux was definitely inside. "We've found one, somewhere in there…" he stated, before entering the vault as the goblins stood just outside, preventing the door from sealing him inside.
Walking in among the treasure, Harry swept his magic around the room for the Horcrux, knowing the particular flavor of darkness that the soul containers were like. Igniting his staff so that it flared with pure radiant light, he strode through the mountains of items, searching. He saw what looked like the sword of Gryffindor in a corner, but the item was clearly a fake, amid a jumble of chains on a high shelf.
Careful to touch nothing that would set off the alarms of the bank, Harry made his way deeper and deeper into the vault, until at last he found the source of the vile taint, a small two handled cup, engraved with badgers and made of pure gold. The cup of Helga Hufflepuff gleamed in the light of his staff as he reached the long wooden item toward it, urging one of the many spokes of gold that held the emerald in its fitting through one of the handles of the cup. Gingerly, Harry lifted the cup into the air and quickly pulled his staff back, his prize upon the head of it like an impaled trophy.
Quickly he retreated back to the entrance, allowing the goblins to seal the vault up again. a simple brown sack was provided to stow the Horcrux away, to be dealt with at a later time. "Come now, Draco and the dwarves will need reinforcements to take the upper levels," Harry said quickly, and together he and the contingent of goblins dashed to the tunnels leading upward, hot in pursuit of their allies from the Lonely Mountain.
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Hermione stood well back from the front lines of the battle before Fangorn, firing desperately with her mundane arrows as lines of orcs flowed over the hill country beyond the Germanic forest. Far beyond, she could feel the menacing aura of Voldemort, standing at the head of his forces like a towering giant, staring impassively at the desperate battle in the lowlands before the river.
Faykan, spearheading their counterattack and pushing the orcs from the line of trees, was a whirling dervish of blade and staff, the glowing gem atop his staff acting as a beacon to his location at all times, flares of magic and fire carving paths through enemy ranks for the charging horsemen of Rohan.
Desperate cries of battle and death sounded on the air, and another line of warriors exploded from the trees all around her. Hermione was safe from the thundering hooves, having climbed one of the largest and thickest trees at the edge, her arrows zipping through branches that waved threateningly, daring any to approach and suffer nature's wrath.
Not that the trees were completely out of the battle, in fact several had uprooted themselves and charged into the ranks of orcs, crushing the beasts with every step and flailing with branches to scatter whole regiments of the armored creatures at a time.
It seemed that the tide of battle was clearly in their favor; with the aid of the forest itself and the element of surprise, but Hermione had learned long ago that these things were never that simple. Every battle, much like Ron's favored game of chess, was a series of turns, cumulating in one desperate move that won the day.
Even as she thought this, the sky grew darker, and screams from the warriors of the light could be heard as thousands of black shapes descended from the sky. The Dementors had come, falling to the earth like vile angels of the night. And from the midst of the orcish host, riding from the lines where Voldemort himself stood, a greater darkness stirred, and charged for Faykan's location.
"No!" Hermione shouted, recognizing from their studies in the history of the world the armored mask of the nightmarish leader and creator of all Dementors. Faykan had named the creature for them some time ago, during their lessons of the time of old. The Witch-King of Angmar had taken to the field, and fear radiated from his passing like a noxious wave.
"Please, help me," Hermione cried to the tree she stood in, and the mighty oaken body lurched in response, uprooting itself to stride menacingly into the battle, carrying her to Faykan's aid. Another knot of the woods, some half dozen trees followed suit, roots spearing through the ground to pull them toward the foe's position.
Hermione went to load her bow, perhaps fire at the beast of darkness and fear that bore down on Faykan, but her hand found nothing but air in her quiver. Her arrows were spent, and she closed her eyes, concentrating on her fear and desires to help. Lightning leapt from her fingers, even as he drew back the bow, and formed into a straight sparking shaft.
Letting her magical arrow fly, Hermione watched it streak across the battlefield, gasping as the dark being batted the bolt of lightning away with a drawn sword, not even pausing as it charged at Faykan. Hermione had little choice left. Leaping from the high branched, she hit the ground and rolled back to her feet, sprinting through the melee as fast as she could, drawing her wand to banish several orcish shafts that flew at her.
Faykan had seen the Witch-King storming toward him, and was prepared, even as warriors all around him fell away in fear. Swinging his staff wide to point at the Lord of Azkaban, Faykan spoke in a voice radiating power, "Go back to the abyss!" he commanded, but the Witch-King ignored the order.
"Do you not know death when you see it foolish old man!" he cried, English and black speech mixing in places and causing the Rohirrim to cry out in agony at the words. "This is my hour!" the Lord of the Nazgûl declared, raising his cruel Morgul-forged sword, its blade wreathed in flames.
Glamdring flashed in response, and Hermione held her breath as all motion seemed to pause around the two, Istari and ring wraith staring each other down momentarily, before they exploded into action. Blades rang as the cursed sorcerer and the Valar-sent magi fought like demons, or rather an angel of light against a demon, Hermione corrected herself.
Earth, air and the waters of the Isen surged as Faykan threw every skill and power he had at the Witch-King of Angmar. But the undead lord leapt high, dismounting in a flurry of torn robes, even as the dementors arrived at the level of the battlefield. Light flared from the sapphire topped staff, and Hermione called forth her Patronus, and the little otter that she so loved soared into the sky amid half a dozen others from the wizards who were scattered among the combatants.
The wraiths clashed against the powerful shield of light formed from the patroni, and with their attack diverted, Hermione returned her attention to the Witch-King and Faykan. The vile creature had gained the upper hand, using the distraction to slam its metal clad body into the young Istari, knocking him to the ground and disarming him from his staff.
Throwing herself in the way, Hermione stared down fear itself, "I will kill you if you touch him!" she declared, holding her bow before her defensively.
"Do not stand between the Nazgûl and its prey!" the creature screamed, rearing back to run Hermione through. Drawing back on her bow, Hermione pulled heavily on her magic to produce arrows much alike her Patronus in makeup, concentrating with all her might on the happy times she had with her family, her friends, and her desperate wish for the world to be safe from Voldemort.
The beam of pure radiant light that rocketed from her weapon struck the incoming sword dead on. With a scream of pain, the Lord of the Nazgûl staggered back, his sword shattered and robes consuming in fire. But before Hermione could launch another, or do much of anything to slay the fiend, the Witch-King fled from the battle, shadows drawing around it in its haste to depart.
Checking quickly on Faykan, Hermione was relieved to find that he was unharmed from the fight with the Nazgûl Lord. But they were far from out of danger, as even without the dementors, Voldemort's forces were still out in force, and they had a long ways left to go if they were to drive them back.
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Draco cleaved through the armor of another massive orc warrior, his arms and back screaming for relief from battle. But he fought on regardless, knowing that he and the warriors of Erebor were nearing the uppermost level of Gringotts. The fighting had gotten bloody and their pace had slowed to a crawl almost four levels ago, and they had lost several of the dwarven warriors that Thráin had brought from the mountain kingdom.
The sheer number of orcs that clogged the tunnels below Diagon Alley staggered Draco. The magnitude of Voldemort's reach and influence must have been great indeed for this nearly endless army to be used in so many fields at once.
It was a daunting task, something that Draco himself was uncertain if they could overcome, but it was better to fight and die against Voldemort then bow to his will and suffer cruelty and unknown horrors that the madman would unleash upon them.
The dwarf lords seemed undaunted by the challenge of so many foes before them and relentless plowed ahead of their warriors, yells and commands being shouted above the din of combat. The loyalty of the dwarven warriors to their leaders was remarkable, and Draco could feel the love for their king in the way they obeyed every command without question.
If Faykan was right and Draco was responsible for leading the wizarding world in some fashion or another, he hoped that he could achieve a fraction of the loyalty that King Thráin could call upon from his own subjects. Orcs to the left and right were slowly falling back, pressed so strongly upon by the iron and steel of the dwarven warriors, their war hammers and battle axes making quick work of the shoddy plate armor that the vile creatures wore.
Swinging wide with Andúril, Draco fueled his own magic into the blade, unleashing a curtain of fire that washed over the orcish ranks, flooding the tunnel ahead with fire. Shrieks of rage and pain echoes above the sounds of battle, and dozens of enemy warriors fell back with severe burns, opening the way for the dwarves to plunge ahead further.
Even so, as they pushed through to the next curve of the tunnel, the odor in the air grew rank almost immediately. The bellowing roar from up ahead combined with the smell confirmed that there was something new up ahead.
"How did these brutes smuggle cave trolls into here?" Thráin questioned the open air, even as the hulking monsters staggered into view, their yellow and blue tinted skin glistening in the limited light from the tunnels.
The trolls turned toward the advancing dwarves, their own senses of smell guiding them, and bellowed out a challenging roar before charging, great hammers rose above their heads, preparing the crush the first creatures to cross their path.
A shouted command from the dwarf lords, and their warriors leapt forward, spears and shields forming a barricade before them, but Draco was unsure how they could withstand the massive trolls' initial attack with just their own strength.
Stepping back to take aim with his wand, Draco noticed that the other warriors and their king had not stood idle as the shield wall was formed. Lances, throwing axes and bows had been readied, and the moment that the trolls were within range Thráin shouted the command to fire, and a barrage of projective flew at the beasts, catching one off guard and causing it to stagger to a halt.
Unfortunately, the other was undaunted in its charge, and it smashed headlong into the wall of metal that the dwarf warriors raised, impaling itself multiple times on several long spears, but decimating the shield wall with its bulk.
Falling back, the warriors making up the shield wall threw away their shields and drew out axes, sword and spiked maces, leaping back into the fray with the trolls and hacking away at its heavily protected hide. Roaring with irritation and pain, the trolls went into a wild frenzy, swatting away warriors with their hands and giant clubs.
Ranged ordinance continued to fly at the trolls' heads and upper bodies, distracting them enough for the frontline warriors to have enough time to dodge the swinging weapons and arms. For his part, Draco was casting what bludgeoning and cutting hexes he could, but they had little effect toward actually stopping the trolls.
It seemed that they were doomed to slowly hacking away at these beasts until the orcs sent a fresh wave to destroy them. That was until a flash of brilliant light illuminated a dark corridor on the far side of the trolls, and Draco saw Harry and the goblins barrel through, carving a path through the orcs that were there.
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Voldemort cursed the utter failing of his servants. That even the Witch-King, the very Lord of Azkaban itself was chased away by a young woman was a great disappointment. Even still, there were legions of orcs left at his command, and he could overwhelm this pitiful stronghold by sheer attrition if need be.
Giving the small signal to his commander, Voldemort watched impassively as the hulking forms of giants approached from the far valley where they had been somewhat hidden from view. The towering humanoids had really only one purpose: destruction.
As they stomped toward the battlefield, several of the tree-like creatures attempted to intercept them, braches and roots flailing threatening. The giants however, did not care, smashing the wooden creatures with their massive clubs, batting one over on its side, before pummeling it with stones and their meaty fists.
It seemed a sure thing at this point to the Dark Lord. There couldn't be that many warriors huddling in those trees, and even the power of a single Istari could only extend so far before even he would fall. It would only be a matter of time before these forests would burn and his greatest enemies would be eliminated.
There was only one thought that nagged the back of his mind. Where was Potter…? The Dark Lord was certain that the boy would have come running to these people defense. It was disappointing that even now the boy had not revealed himself. It was almost as of the boy was not even present, but that was absurd, where could he have gone and why would be abandon his allies when he, Lord Voldemort, was marshalling on their borders.
But… even as he thought of the option, the gemmed ring on his finger whispered the threatening concept to him; this was exactly what Potter had done. The boy had fled, but for what reason?
Drawing his power around him like a cloak, the Dark Lord of the Earth reached out to try and locate the boy through the connection they shared. The sounds of the battle before him faded as the great mind of Lord Voldemort sped across the continent, back toward the homeland of Britain.
Curious that the boy was back where Voldemort's power as all but absolute. Peering into the boy's mind was difficult, with so much of the ancient magic of a Lord awakened and a devotion to the Light pushing back at Voldemort, but he was able to rush quickly through the boy's thoughts before he was forcefully evicted, gathering some useful information including a decent amount of what the boy was seeing at that moment.
The underground tunnels of Gringotts... it was an interesting strategy the Dark Lord acknowledged, but in the end all futile. He would be victorious here and now, and even if Potter liberated the bank, he would return and crush the goblins once and for all upon his return.
Reawakening to his current location, Voldemort decided it was time to end this charade of a battle himself. Striding forward against his commander's council, the Dark Lord of the earth channeled a massive amount of magic through him, allowing his body to become light as the air around him. Lifting off from the ground and sailing over the combatants, dark curses streamed from his wand upon the fighters for the Light, laughing as they were cut down in waves.
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Harry felt the powerful intrusion into his mind, hissing with the pain that it brought. But he couldn't let Voldemort's discovery of their plans daunt him at what they needed to achieve. Storming the main tunnel with the goblins, Harry hefted his weapons with all his strength, slowly clearing a channel toward the dwarven offensive, and the trolls that were wrecking havoc among them.
Harry knew from his first year in Hogwarts how to deal with such beasts, and as he struck down the last orc barring his path to the trolls, he slammed his staff into the stone ground with an almighty cracking sound.
"Valar Kalina!" he called, summoning the white light of Valinor to flash in the gloom, blinding the orcs all around and making the trolls stagger in pain, even as their skin started to burn and transform, returning the beasts to their original form of stone.
The dwarves yelled in triumph as their foes were reduced to statues, and swarmed around them, butchering the orcs that had been harassing their lines while the beasts beat upon their defenses.
"Onward my warriors," King Thráin yelled, waving his great axe, "Make safe this city!"
Now reunited, the combined goblins and dwarves made quick work of their enemies, pressing to the very lobby of the bank, and staining the marble tiles of that place with the black orcish blood.
Even as the final remnants of the vile race fled into the streets of Diagon, the goblins were already at work barricading their kingdom, while the dwarves signaled their mutual victory with a blast of horns, sending tremors of the sounds through the streets. Harry and Draco stepped out into the Alley, striking down the last handful of orcs that dared to remain with magic, and causing quite the stir amid the wizards that were in the shopping district at the time.
Feeling that the moment was right, Harry smacked his staff upon the stone, the sound attracting the attention of those left in the alleyway. "Behold," Harry called, lifting his hand to indicate the slain orcs, "The fate of those who follow the Dark Lord Voldemort! I Calenrohtar, emerald warrior of the West will no longer allow this evil to taint our lands or his power to corrupt this world."
"Nor will I," Draco added, calling over the murmur of the assembling crowd. "I Sgiathatch Telcontar, swear that I will fight the orcish hordes of Voldemort wherever they appear, on my honor as the heir of Elendil and wielder of the sword Andúril." The blade of the king flashed above their heads, and the crowd, whether they understood or not, gasped in appreciation.
"Voldemort would have you live in fear of his wrath, cowed into submission to his rule by the threat of him marching upon your families." Harry continued, "I say unto you all, that he will destroy you in the end regardless if you fight or flee, so I implore you all to stand and fight. Do not stand idly by and watch your world be destroyed by one man's ideals!"
As if sealing what he said in a light of importance, a flash of fire appeared above Harry, and Fawkes the phoenix appeared, crying loud the anthem of war and landing lightly on Harry's shoulder. Where the phoenix had been in the intervening months, Harry did not know, but as a creature of the utmost light, he trusted that the bird came and went as it was needed.
King Thráin and the other dwarven warriors appeared, and to add the final flair of dramatics to their speech, Harry tore open a portal back to Orthanc right there in the street, allowing all present to see that they had more than enough power to come and go where they pleased, when they pleased.
With any luck the people of Wizarding Britain would be inspired this time at last to take up arms against the Death Eaters themselves.
Potential Spoilers Ahead: You Have Been Warned
Nothing here has been changed for this chapter. I can however, tell you all for certain that there are only 3 weeks worth of posting left until the posting of rewrite of my first story is complete. I am most pleased at the improves that I had made, and reception that it has received. Until next time. ~F