Chapter 52 – Fighting Darkness
Harry stood and watched as Draco Malfoy was escorted from the entry hall out into the courtyard, noting that the blond Slytherin—or perhaps now more correctly, ex-Slytherin—looked back at him several times with an absolutely murderous glare. Perhaps it was a little beneath him to taunt the boy so, but he had to admit that he had enjoyed it immensely. Being nice was all fine and dandy, but Malfoy deserved every ounce of contempt which Harry could muster, and his former resolution to avoid treating Malfoy with an overt level of meanness seemed pointless in light of what he had tried to do.
Once Malfoy had exited the hall and Harry could no longer see him, he turned away toward the Great Hall, coming face to face with his betrothed, and several others of their seventh-year friends.
"Good riddance to bad rubbish," one of the twins said in an atypically serious tone.
"You know it," Harry agreed. "Now if we could just get the rest of them out of here."
"All in good time, Harrikins," the other twin replied cheekily. "We have every confidence in your ability to take them down a peg or two should they try anything."
"Only if they annoy me," Harry said darkly. "Come on, guys—let's go to lunch."
The group turned to leave, but Fleur, stepping close to him, put a hand out on his arm, causing him to stop and look at her askance.
"You must have disappeared pretty quickly after your last class if you're already here watching Malfoy leave," Fleur stated.
"I heard when he was leaving, and decided to give him a send-off."
Fleur searched his eyes for several moments. "Wanted to make sure he was actually leaving?"
Shrugging, Harry reached out and grasped one of her hands. "That and maybe have a word or two with the ponce."
"He deserves everything you say to him, Harry, but was it really necessary?"
"Maybe not," Harry admitted. "But I wanted him to understand that if there is a next time, I won't be so gentle. I won't have him coming after you and Hermione again without knowing exactly what the consequences are."
"Hopefully you're worried about nothing—he did cast an unforgiveable, after all."
"Maybe so, but Voldemort has a distressing tendency to break his worst followers out of prison. If there is a next time for Malfoy, maybe he'll hesitate a little and think about what I just told him."
"I think you might be giving him too much credit."
"I may be," Harry admitted. "But a little extra warning can't hurt."
Smiling, Fleur drew close and reached up to brush her lips across his own. "You're a good man, Harry Potter. Don't ever change.
Harry thought idly of the fact that he had apparently grown quite a bit that year—though he was still of a rather lean build, and would likely always be so, he was now a good hand taller than Fleur, who had been a little taller than he during the tournament the previous year. For a boy who had often despaired of ever attaining any real height, it was a relief to have achieved a respectable amount of growth.
"Come on," Fleur said, pulling him toward the Great Hall, "let's get some lunch."
"Not so fast," Harry commanded, pulling her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her and his lips descended on hers. Fleur melted in his arms, matching his kiss with her own, and for a few moments the world around them disappeared as Harry concentrated on Fleur and the amazing feelings this beautiful girl was engendering.
"Oy, get a room, will you!" a shout rang out throughout the entrance hall.
Harry and Fleur sprang apart, Fleur just as breathless as Harry was himself, he noted with some satisfaction. Near the entrance to the Great Hall, a group of their friends stood, including Hermione, Ron, Neville, and most of their other fifth-year friends. By the grin on his face, it was Ron who had spoken.
With a devilish grin of his own, Harry took Fleur's hand and pulled her toward the Great Hall, taking Hermione's hand in his other as he passed her. As they entered, he looked over his shoulder toward Ron and said, "You lot are just jealous that I have such a beautiful girl to kiss."
A round of laughter met his declaration, though there were a few murmurs of discontent.
"He doesn't have to rub our faces in it," Seamus said, with no little envy, given his tone.
"Maybe not," Ron said companionably. "But he does have a point."
"Actually, I'm not jealous," Neville chimed in. "After all, I've got a great girl of my own to kiss."
"You've got that right," said Luna, and she punctuated her words with a peck to Neville's lips.
Dean groaned. "What is the world coming to?" he demanded. "Both of the shyest guys in our year now have girlfriends."
"I think we've got our work cut out for us," added Seamus.
"Well good luck to both of you," Harry said with an impudent grin. "But I'd better not see you sniffing around my girls."
"Don't get cocky, Potter," Dean growled, though the grin on his face belied his tough words.
"Only when I have a reason to be cocky," Harry snarked in response.
The bantering continued for some time as they made their way down the Gryffindor table and found some empty seats. Lunch proceeded in the usual manner, and for some time all seemed well in the world. Malfoy was gone from the school, the gorillas had been expelled, and for the time being, Voldemort was silent.
For the balance of the meal, Harry was in earnest conversation with his closest friends about Dumbledore's request from that morning. As they discussed how they could assist, a rough plan began to take shape. They had already divided the association into troops, and from there could further divide them into patrols in the various parts of the castle. By the end of the meal, they had a rough idea of how they would deploy if called upon, and planned to call a special meeting for that evening to further discuss and finalize their plans.
The meal had progressed to the point that almost everyone had eaten and those remaining in the hall—in actuality only a few had left—were sitting around talking, and postponing going to their afternoon classes for as long as possible, as was their wont on a Monday. Harry, in discussion with Hermione, had just about determined that it was time to leave, when the blue light of a Patronus streaked into the Great hall. Sitting up quickly, Harry watched the spell as he crossed the hall and stopped in front of the head table, where it coalesced into the form of a lynx. The Hall quickly silenced as the attention of the students was fixed upon the ethereal animal.
Death Eaters attacking the Ministry. Minister's office cut off. We need help.
A collective gasp was accompanied by a sudden increase in the volume of conversation as the Patronus winked out of existence. Harry, however, had his eyes fixed upon Dumbledore, knowing that the time he had predicted had occurred, just earlier than Harry would have wished.
Almost as soon as the Patronus disappeared—and much faster than a man of his age had any right—Dumbledore was on his feet and at the lectern. "Please stay calm, everyone. All students will stay in the Great Hall until further notice."
Then, motioning to the staff to follow him, he turned and made his way toward the anteroom where the champions had gathered the previous year, but not before turning and beckoning for Harry to join him. Though he was conscious that the eyes of most of the students were on him, Harry ignored them and hurried to join Dumbledore. In the back of his mind he was aware that the situation almost felt uncomfortably like that Halloween evening a year and a half earlier. At least the comments running between the students did not appear to include accusatory gazes or accusations of cheating.
When Harry entered the anteroom, Dumbledore was already giving his instructions to the teachers. It was clear he was intending to go to the Ministry, assess the situation for himself, and join the fight against Voldemort's forces. His next words confirmed this supposition.
"Harry," he said, turning as Harry entered the room, "I know it is earlier than you would have wished, but I think that the services I requested of your club members will be needed now. Are you able to implement your plans?"
"We will have to improvise on the fly a little, but we're ready to go," Harry replied.
"Good. As Deputy Headmistress, Professor McGonagall will be in charge of the school in my absence. You may take your directions from her. Work closely with the staff to protect the school. If anything happens while I am gone you are to summon me immediately," Dumbledore continued sternly, fixing each member in the room with an implacable stare. "Is that understood?"
"Aye, Albus," the Deputy Headmistress replied.
The Headmaster nodded once. "I will depart for the Ministry and gather all that I can to assist." By this, Harry understood that he meant that he would gather the Order together, but as there were people in the room who were not aware of the Order's existence, he could not be more explicit. "I must stress the fact that this may be a ruse to draw me away, but I have no information to confirm that."
Dumbledore surreptitiously glanced at Snape for an instant, but the other man shrugged, a clear indication that he had heard nothing further than whatever he had already told Dumbledore. Had Harry not been looking in the Potions Master's direction, wondering if he had given Dumbledore any information about the attack, he would not even have noticed the exchange. Regardless, it was apparent that there would be no further help from that quarter.
"I believe I should go too," Sirius interjected from where he had been following the conversation. "I used to be an Auror—I can help you retake the Ministry."
Dumbledore glanced over at Sirius and for a moment Harry thought he would ask Sirius to stay at Hogwarts. He said nothing, however, and simply nodded at the defense professor. The rest of the professors made no comment, though Dumbledore turned to Professor Flitwick.
"Professor, though I know you can handle yourself, I think we would be better served if you remained at Hogwarts and assisted in the protection of the school."
"Of course, Albus," Flitwick replied, inclining his head.
And with that, Dumbledore beckoned to Sirius and they left the anteroom in haste, leaving the rest of them glancing at each other—the whole thing had occurred in a matter of moments, and there were still some rather shell-shocked people in the room.
"Very well, Mr. Potter," McGonagall finally said with a speculative look, "I believe we should speak of exactly what we need to do and the role your club will play in this drama."
Harry nodded. "First, I think we should have all the students return to the Great Hall and cancel classes for this afternoon."
McGonagall peered at him, before sighing in resignation. "I suppose you're right—we'll want everyone in one place if You-Know-Who does decide to pay us a visit."
"I need to get Hermione and Fleur involved—they know as much about this as I do. Can we place a table near the front of the room that we can use to plan?"
"Very well. We can discuss the specifics of what the club will do as we go along."
The announcement that there would be no classes that afternoon was met with somewhat less enthusiasm than Harry would have thought, though when he considered it he decided that it was preoccupation over present events, rather than lack of enthusiasm. The rest of the students who had departed were quickly rounded up, and a schedule of patrols was set up. Harry also made sure there were watchers stationed at the tops of the largest towers—to be rotated every hour—so they would have advance warning of any approaching threats. It was, as Dumbledore said, earlier than he would have hoped, but Harry was determined to ensure that the school would be kept safe.
Sirius hurried in Dumbledore's wake toward the Headmaster's office, wondering how a man as old as he was could possibly move so fast. Perhaps it was the secret of Dumbledore's longevity, though to be honest, the Headmaster's advanced years were not necessarily unusual for a wizard. Sirius could only hope that he was as spry when he reached the Headmaster's age. Or perhaps it was more correct to say that he hoped he would be able to reach the Headmaster's great age at all!
Once they had reached the gargoyle guard, Dumbledore slowed and he turned to Sirius as he commanded the statue to step aside. "I believe the Floo to be the best way to get to the Ministry. We can Floo directly into the Minister's office and join the battle after making certain that she has escaped."
Sirius nodded shortly and followed Dumbledore up the stairs into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore proceeded directly to the Floo and, grasping a handful of Floo powder, yelled out, "Minister for Magic's office!"
The fireplace flared briefly before it settled into its normal glow, rather than the flames eagerly stretching forth to gather the traveler into its embrace. Startled, Sirius wondered if Dumbledore had gotten the location wrong, not that that seemed likely. A glance at his companion showed a rather worried Dumbledore.
"It appears the Floo system is down, Sirius," Dumbledore explained. "As Fawkes has still not matured enough to flame us there, we shall have to go by portkey. I have the authority to both create portkeys from Hogwarts, and to the Ministry, and though I cannot take us to the Minister's office by portkey, I can take us to the Atrium, which I believe would be the best location, given the circumstances."
"Wouldn't it be best to go to the Auror department?" Sirius asked
Dumbledore shook his head. "If the attack is of the magnitude that Kingsley's message suggested, I would expect there to be heavy fighting there. Hopefully the Atrium will be in our hands, or at the very least, we can portkey to a location which will allow us to catch our bearings without immediately coming under fire."
Reaching over to his desk, Dumbledore plucked a parchment off of the desk and, pointing his wand at it, intoned, "Portus!" The parchment glowed a light blue before the light disappeared. Then, Dumbledore summoned his Patronus with a flourish, speaking to it once the bright phoenix had appeared. "Go to Elphias Doge. The Ministry is under attack. Gather every member of the Order who can be spared."
He then turned to Sirius. "Take hold of this parchment, Sirius. It will take us to an anteroom off the Atrium. Hopefully, it will not be occupied, but I suggest we go with our wands out."
Nodding, Sirius grasped the parchment, and Dumbledore activated it. A moment later, Sirius landed on his feet in the small room and cast about warily for threats, relaxing only slightly when he confirmed the room to be empty. But the air was smoky and laced with the thick scent of charred wood, and from beyond the door—or the remaining shards of the door, which hung raggedly on creaking hinges—he could hear the shouts of curses and cries of pain, mixed with roars of anger and the din of an ongoing battle.
Motioning to Dumbledore, Sirius eased up to the door and peered around the edge carefully. They were at the far end of the Atrium from the lifts; the remains of the fountain which had still not been repaired sat on one side of the long room, while the Floos sat on the other. Nearer to their position, the phone booth entrance stood close to one wall, but it had taken heavy damage—the windows were smashed, the metal was blackened and somewhat warped in places, and the entire structure was leaning askew against a nearby wall. On the opposite end, near the lifts, a charred pile of ash eddied in the shifting currents where the security desk had once stood.
Closer to their side, several fighters, some in Auror uniforms, hunkered behind the dubious shelter of the fountain, the corner where the Floos were situated, or whatever makeshift shelter they had devised for protection, faced by a force of Death Eaters who had taken up position blocking off access to the lifts and the accompanying stairwells. Clearly it was an attempt to block any reinforcements from being able to reach other levels through the main entrance to the Ministry, and likely to block off the administrative section from all other parts of the Ministry. It was impossible to tell what was happening on the other floors, but here, matters seemed to have descended into a stalemate—the Death Eaters were content to hold their position, while the Ministry could not at present advance any further.
That, of course, begged the question: just what exactly was Voldemort attempting to accomplish with this assault? Was it an attempt to kill the Minister, or was he actually trying to take control of the Ministry? While controlling the Ministry building itself would be a serious blow for his attempt to assert his dominance, if Minister Bones were to escape, Voldemort's victory would be incomplete. And Sirius did not doubt that she would—at the very least, even if the entire Floo system was down, the Minister always carried an emergency portkey. Of course, having control over the various tools the Ministry used, the department of Mysteries, etc, would shift the nature of the struggle largely in Voldemort's favor. Whatever his goal consisted of, it was clear that he had thrown a large force at the Ministry in the attempt. Beating back the attack would be difficult and dangerous.
"What do you think?" Sirius asked Dumbledore, who had also taken in the situation. "Do we try to retake this floor, or can you create another portkey to take us closer to the Minister's office first?"
"First things first, Sirius," the ancient wizard replied. "The Minister should have been evacuated the moment the attack began, so there should be no reason to suspect that she is still here. Liberating the building must necessarily begin here—we can then make our way toward the higher floors."
Nodding, Sirius glanced once again out the open door, but the situation was much the same as it was before. The Department of Mysteries was perhaps another level which must be secured as soon as possible, but Sirius was certain they had other defenses and that they were likely as safe as any other department. Besides, as esoteric as the Unspeakables' studies were, it could not be a high priority target, unless there was something specific Voldemort wanted there. And since the prophecy was now gone, he could not think of anything else which would be of interest. Beyond the Department of Mysteries, level ten would be the lowest priority, as the courtrooms held nothing of value, and the cells below them held no one Voldemort would want to free.
"How do we do this then?"
"We must get in behind them and catch them in a crossfire," Dumbledore stated, and Sirius had a sinking feeling that he knew exactly who would be volunteered for that dangerous job. "I will distract them," Dumbledore continued, "while you take the portkey, which I will reset to take you behind their position. You should be able to incapacitate several of them before they discover your position—enough for us to capture the rest of them."
"How did I know you were going to say that?" Sirius muttered, even as he nodded his head curtly in agreement. Taking a small piece of rubble from the floor, Dumbledore once again pointed his wand at it and cast the spell to create a portkey, before handing it to Sirius.
"The activation word is 'crossfire.' Give me a few moments to completely draw their attention before you activate it." Dumbledore smiled slightly. "But do not wait too long, as I do not fancy being the target of every spell from every Death Eater out there."
Sirius just held himself back from mentioning the hubris that such a statement betrayed before nodding and pulling back from the door. The Headmaster appeared to center himself for a brief moment before he calmly stepped out of the concealment of the room and into the atrium.
The effect was instantaneous. A cry went up from the Death Eaters and the wands of almost every one of the attacking force was suddenly trained upon Dumbledore. When the spells began flying, the defenders suddenly became aware of the fact that they were no longer being targeted by their enemies, and as soon as they became aware of the fact that it was the famed defeater of Grindlewald who had joined the fray, a cheer—much the opposite of the Death Eaters' response—rose to meet his appearance. A new vigor seemed to enter them and they turned their attention back to the attackers, peppering them with a withering hail of spellfire.
Now, considering that for a few moments Dumbledore had been the sole target of what appeared to be more than a dozen Death Eaters, one would have thought that he would have been overwhelmed by the myriad of spells arrayed against him. But nothing could have been further from the truth. The Headmaster's wand was a blur as he cast; shields, conjurations, summons—a plethora of defensive spells met the barrage and with a little fancy footwork to go with his defensive spellwork, bombardment curses, slashing curses, and even a couple of killing curses were either deflected or intercepted. He even managed a couple of offensive spells, which forced the Death Eaters to hunker back down into their defensive positions, bits of stone and tile filling the air in frenzied patterns as spells exploded against the walls and floors of the room. Dumbledore's casting was the single most incredible sight Sirius had ever seen, and he almost forgot to use the portkey, so great was his awe.
As the Ministry defenders once again began returning fire, the hail of offensive fire from the attackers died down, allowing Dumbledore to go on the offensive, and it was at that moment that Sirius had the presence of mind to activate his portkey.
Sirius materialized in the Ministry Munchies café only a seconds later. Peering around, he noted the fact that the café had taken heavy damage—tables had been knocked over, or completely blown apart, the long counter with its various cooking appliances and the like were smashed beyond recognition, and Sirius was unsurprised to see that there was not a window intact in the entire structure. The most disquieting fact was that there were several bodies lying upon the floor, most with the telltale signs of the killing curse upon them. These people had been brutally cut down with no quarter while eating lunch.
Ignoring the carnage as best he could—and perversely grateful that, for the most part, the killing had been done quickly and without an excessive level of gore—Sirius crept through the diner as quietly as he could, reaching the door in a matter of seconds. Crouching down behind the low wall, he peered around the corning, noting the Death Eaters defending the lifts and stairwell. Most were not dressed in the standard Death Eater garb of long black cloak and silver mask, instead using a more versatile uniform—if it could be called that—of black slacks over black shirts. Fortunately, most were clearly within his sights, and clearly were focused out into the atrium, likely more on the Headmaster than anything else.
Knowing that his situation could become untenable very quickly should they discover his presence, Sirius immediately went on the offensive, choosing spells which would incapacitate them at the very least. He quickly reeled off two bludgeoning curses and a cutting curse at the nearest Death Eaters, the first striking the closest man and sending him tumbling down the stairs, while the second blew its target out onto the floor and the third opened up a large gash on the final man's neck, causing him to slump to the floor, his life's blood flowing out through the gash. Sirius then followed it up with a quickly cast "Confringo!" and another blasting curse between two Death Eaters stationed nearer to the end of the lifts. The first sent the man careening into another Death Eater, bringing them both down, while the second impacted between the two men, showering them both with pieces of rock and debris.
That was when the remaining Death Eaters realized that they had an opponent situated at the rear of their position. Two of them turned back and began pelting the wall between them and Sirius with quickly-cast Reductors and blasting curses, clearly trying to batter their way through the wall and remove Sirius's cover from the equation, where they could pick him off at their leisure. It was at that point that above the din, Sirius would hear the sudden cries and yells of the Ministry defenders, and when he peeked out from behind his cover, he saw them rushing the remaining attackers, overwhelming them within a matter of moments.
With relief, Sirius sagged behind what remained of the wall, thankful that Dumbledore's plan had worked as well as it had.
"Take these men into custody," Dumbledore's voice floated back to him as the Headmaster approached, wand in hand.
Sirius stood and surveyed the scene. Of the four men who were left, one had obviously been hit by several curses and his form was bloodied and battered; he looked like a hopeless case. The other three were all in better shape, it appeared, though they had been bound in ropes and stunned for good measure. Several of those who had been fighting for the Ministry were now looking over the men that Sirius had dealt with, going over their bodies, stunning and binding those who appeared like they were not seriously injured, while offering some simple treatment for those who looked the worse for wear.
"Are you aware of the situation on the floors above us?" Dumbledore was asking one of the men in Auror uniforms.
"I was just arriving when they struck," the man replied. "I'm not sure there is a normal procedure for this, but I would think that Scrimgeour would have called in the off-duty hit wizards and Aurors."
"Even if he did, they have no way to arrive. The Floo system is down."
"Which means that they have control over the Department of Magical Transportation," another added.
"Dumbledore!" a voice spoke up from the direction of the phone booth.
Both Dumbledore and Sirius turned to the sound of the voice—which was very familiar to Sirius—and saw Remus approaching with Tonks, whose hair was almost a midnight blue in color. In the heat of the battle and the thick, smoky haze which hung over the room like a blanket, Sirius had not noticed them.
"Remus!" Sirius exclaimed. "When did you get back?"
"In the middle of all this," Remus replied, gesturing to the havoc around them.
"Then you found something?" Sirius asked, his hopes rising suddenly. He had not allowed himself to consider the horcrux situation much since Remus had left, but it had been in the back of his mind almost constantly.
"We did," Remus confirmed with a grim expression which did nothing to reassure Sirius. "But now is not the time to go into detail."
Nodding, Sirius looked to Dumbledore. The Headmaster was considering Remus and Tonks, but seemed to come to the same conclusion at the same time Remus had declared that it was a matter to take up at another time.
"I expect that the fighting will be heavier the further we proceed toward the Administration offices," Dumbledore said, getting down to business immediately. "We will have to make our way up to the higher levels one at a time and assess the situation on each level as we go. Since they have shut down the Floos and attempted to prevent incursion from the atrium, I suspect that this is an effort to take control of the Ministry. If that is so, then their main objectives would have been levels one, two and six."
"They'd have to be crazy to try a frontal attack against the Auror office," one of the Aurors disagreed.
"On the contrary," Sirius interjected, "if they wanted to take control of the Ministry, then they'd have had to put the Auror office out of the fight immediately."
"But how would they do it?"
"How did they arrive in the first place?"
A picture quickly emerged of Death Eaters suddenly appearing in the atrium at various points, though fortunately in mid-morning when the place was not nearly as busy as it might have been early in the morning or at midday. They quickly caused as much havoc as possible, cutting down any who stood in their path, until a determined counter-attack from the security office, aided by a few bystanders who had survived the original carnage, had driven them back to the lifts where they had been content to defend the access to the other levels, likely waiting until resistance had been subdued there and they could mop up at their leisure with reinforcements from other levels. It had been during the middle of this battle—and several minutes after the flight of those who had been able to flee through the phone booth—that Remus and Tonks had arrived on the scene, walking into a battle zone as nothing had appeared to be amiss from the street above. Though it had seemed like ages to the defenders, in reality, it had been only a little more than a quarter of an hour since the Death Eaters had begun the attack.
"Very well," Dumbledore said when the quick explanations were made. "We must fight our way to the upper levels." He took each one of those around him in a quick gaze and continued, "Our main objective must be to make certain that the Minister was able to depart and, if she has not, then to rescue her if she is still alive."
A grim round of nods met his declaration and the force immediately started for the entrance to the other levels. The fighting was far from over.
"How were your studies this morning, Gabrielle?" Apolline asked her youngest daughter.
"Well, Maman," Gabrielle replied with childish excitement, though she remembered to swallow her bite of food before she ran away with her reply. "Today I studied my first year Transfiguration texts, and I plan to look over my Defense books later!"
Apolline smiled indulgently at the girl and turned back to her own lunch, with Gabrielle's excited chatter in the background. Gabrielle was bright and inquisitive, and she soaked up every bit of information she could get her hands on, though Transfiguration was her favorite. Defense had become a recent passion, entirely, Apolline suspected, since it had been revealed that it was Harry's favorite subject. The Delacours had always insisted that their children obtain a well-rounded education, but sometimes Gabrielle would use any excuse to avoid some of the basic subjects in order to pore over her magical texts. It was a great measure of disappointment for the young girl that she would not be attending Beauxbatons—the Delacours still intended to send their youngest child to the school in the land of her birth, rather than Hogwarts—until the following year, as she was to turn ten in just over a month.
"I am happy to hear it. This afternoon, I believe we should focus on math, and some language studies."
Gabrielle frowned a little, but she acquiesced readily, prompting a fond smile from Apolline. She may have preferred the pure magical studies, but Gabrielle was truly an easy student. She did not enjoy math to any great degree, but she picked up the concepts well enough. She was also writing at a greater level than her age would suggest, a necessity, Apolline thought, as the magical schools did not teach basic writing skills—she would need to have already developed the necessary skills to a certain extent before she left to attend school.
Unlike most other magical parents, the Delacours had also insisted upon a basic education of the world around them, which included some simple sciences, the history of their homeland and the world around it, and whatever else their children took an interest in. Thus, both of her children possessed a knowledge of the world around them which was far greater than their peers, and as a testament to their willingness to apply themselves in what magical society would consider to be odd disciplines, both of their daughters had an interest in certain arts. Gabrielle was skilled at drawing—for a nine-year-old—and her elder sister Fleur was quite proficient on the piano.
It would be a lonely house once Gabrielle left to attend Beauxbatons, Apolline thought a trifle sadly. It had been hard enough to let go of Fleur when she had left for school, but Gabrielle was the baby; Apolline knew it would be immeasurably more difficult to send her youngest off to the boarding school for more than nine months of the year.
She needed an occupation once Gabrielle left the nest, Apolline decided. As the wife of a prominent and affluent wizard, they had house-elves who took care of the cooking and cleaning, so she would not have those duties to fill her time, and she had focused her time over the past eighteen years raising her children, not agreeing with the idea of leaving them to nanny elves, or even human caretakers, unlike many in her social sphere. Therefore, she had no true occupation, other than raising her children and running the household to whatever degree was necessary.
Perhaps there was some duty Madame Maxine required at Beauxbatons. That would be beneficial from the standpoint of being close to her youngest daughter. She could Floo home at the end of the day to be with her husband. A job at the Ministry in France might be another possibility. Jean-Sebastian would be more aware of what was available or required.
They had almost finished lunch—and Apolline had been on the verge of sending Gabrielle for her math and language books—when a loud keening wail filled the room. Apolline looked up with dread—it was the warning the wards made when they were under assault.
An Auror burst into the room with a wild, frightened look on his face. "The wards are under assault by a group of Death Eaters!" he exclaimed.
"The Floo in my husband's study!" Apolline cried, pulling Gabrielle to her feet. "We must make it there before the wards fall!"
The Auror turned and immediately headed toward the door, leading the way toward the study and escape, and Apolline cursed herself for being all kinds of a fool—she had left her emergency portkey in her office that morning. In truth, she had felt an apparently false sense of security, feeling that Voldemort was not yet audacious enough to assault the residence of a foreign official. Apparently she was wrong.
They had just exited the small dining nook when another sound, even more dreadful, rang through their ears—it was the sound of something breaking, not unlike that of breaking glass.
"How could the wards have fallen so quickly?" she demanded to no one in particular. In her mind she was furiously considering the situation as they ran toward the study. Could the wards have been compromised somehow to ensure their quick failure?
They had gone a few doors down when another Auror emerged from another doorway, his eyes filled with fear. "Lord Voldemort himself is here!" he exclaimed.
"Then move!" Apolline cried, not wanting to think what was in store for her daughter should they fall into Voldemort's hands.
They literally sprinted down the hall toward the study, fearing that they would suddenly be assaulted by Death Eaters every step of the way. As it was, they managed to make it down the hallway and to the stairs which led to the second floor before they were interrupted.
A shout met their escape, and a force of Death Eaters emerged from a side corridor which led to the main entrance. Curses were immediately unleashed, and one of the Aurors escorting them was blasted back against the wall behind them. The other returned fire and put one of the Death Eaters out of the fight with a well-placed cutting hex. Acting on instinct, Apolline pushed Gabrielle toward the stairs, urging her to get to the Floo, before she turned and faced the Death Eaters.
She immediately let go of her form and changed into her bird form, throwing the two fireballs which appeared in her hands, one splashing against the wall next to the Death Eaters, while the other took one of the attackers directly in the chest. Instantly, he became a human torch, flailing this way and that, trying to put out the flames. The unfortunate man provided just the distraction Apolline was intending, as those close to him moved frantically to get out of the way of his burning form.
As Apolline shifted back into her human form, she turned to flee, but not before the snake-like visage of Lord Voldemort appeared behind the Death Eaters, peering at her coldly. She ran up the stairs, almost losing her footing as the marble banister exploded courtesy of an exploding curse which would surely have killed her if it had hit its mark.
Scrambling to get away, Apolline hurried up the stairs, hearing the death cry of the second Auror who had undoubtedly thrown himself in Voldemort's way to allow her a few more precious seconds to escape. Idly, as she was running, she wondered what had happened to the rest of their protection detail. Perhaps they had been engaged by another force of Death Eaters and prevented from coming to their aid.
Knowing she had only seconds to escape, Apolline put such thoughts from her mind. She gained the top of the stairs and sprinted the short distance to Jean-Sebastian's study, catching up with Gabrielle, who had hesitated at the top of the stairs. "We must go!" she cried, galvanizing Gabrielle into action.
Apolline threw open the study door and hurried toward the Floo, only to have her escape blocked by one of the French Aurors tasked with guarding the manor.
"I am afraid I cannot allow you to escape, Madame Delacour," the man said with a chilling smile, while training his wand on them both.
Without even thinking, Apolline instantly transformed, and pushing Gabrielle from the line of fire, she once again cast a fireball at the man. He was not caught off guard by her action, however, as he stepped to the side, and allowed the fireball to splash against Jean-Sebastian's desk, setting it ablaze. He returned fire with a bludgeoning curse which caught Apolline on one hip. She shrugged it off, knowing her bird form could absorb a considerable amount of damage, and charged the man, raking him across the face with extended talons, and backhanding him, sending him flying over the burning desk, to impact heavily with the wall in behind.
"The Floo, Gabrielle," Apolline cried as she resumed her human form. Gabrielle jumped to the Floo quickly and stepped in immediately, while Apolline moved to follow, favoring her side as the effects of the curse now made themselves known to her human form. She tossed the powder in and whispered the destination—not wanting anyone who followed to know where she had gone—as a shadow crossed the door behind her. She glanced back as she stepped into the flames and saw Voldemort enter the room.
"Not today, Voldemort," she spat as the flames enveloped her.
She stumbled coming out of the Floo on the other side, landing heavily on the floor. Gabrielle fell to her knees beside Apolline, holding her and crying, while Apolline called out, "Matty!"
The house-elf appeared in an instant, aghast at what he was seeing before him. "Lock down the Floo!" Apolline commanded quickly.
Matty waved his hand and the Floo immediately went on lockdown. Apolline slumped to the floor in sudden exhaustion while Matty, aided by several other house-elves who had appeared immediately after, rushed to her and began to busy themselves in seeing to her aid.
"Mistress, where is the master?" Matty asked, pulling his ears in distress."
"He was at the Ministry this morning," Apolline replied wearily. She turned with an effort and wrapped her arms around a crying Gabrielle. "We are fine, little one," she cooed, while caressing her back in a soothing manner.
"But Maman!" Gabrielle wailed with tears streaming down her face. "Where are Papa and Fleur? And where's Harry?"
"Hush, Gabrielle. Your father is at the Ministry, meeting with Madam Bones, and Fleur is safe at Hogwarts. And Harry is there protecting her, remember?"
Gabrielle calmed visibly at this reassurance, and she even managed a watery smile in response. Apolline, knowing that she needed to get word to someone of the attack, painfully moved to the Floo. "Matty, get me the Floo powder."
When the small urn was delivered, Apolline knelt by the fire and, throwing in a handful of the power said, "The French Minister for Magic," before leaning into the flames.
Through the fire her line of sight was transported to the Minister's office. The Minister looked up with a start and he immediately stood and approached. "Apolline? What has happened?"
"The manor was attacked," Apolline managed. "We only just managed to escape."
"Jean-Sebastian?" the Minister asked with a brow furrowed in worry.
"He was at the British Ministry this morning," Apolline said, while gasping a little at the fire of pain which was radiating from her side.
"You are hurt. I will send a team of Aurors immediately along with a healer."
"Please contact Jean-Sebastian," Apolline insisted. "Voldemort himself attacked us. If he returns while Voldemort is still there…"
"I will take care of it," the Minister promised. "Just stay put for a few moments while I make the necessary arrangements."
"You'll also want to disconnect our Floo connection at the manor from the rest of the network."
"I will see it done immediately," the Minister promised.
With a relieved nod, Apolline cut the connection and allowed herself to slump to the floor. Her daughter moved to intercept her and coaxed Apolline to lay her head down on her lap. Wearily, she smiled up at Gabrielle, reaching up to touch her face with a loving hand.
"Do not worry, my darling. All will be well."
At Hogwarts, the mood was tense while they waited for word from the Ministry. But though one might have expected that the absence of the Headmaster would invite attack, regardless of the fact that the wards were renowned the world over, the school was calm and nothing appeared to threaten those within.
That did not mean that they were not busy. The moment Dumbledore and Sirius had left the Great Hall, those remaining had sprung into action. Harry immediately took charge of the situation, calling the members of the Defense Association forward, and while he consulted with Professor McGonagall, their rough plan for patrolling the corridors began to shape into an actual set of assignments. In short order, Harry had watchers dispatched to the tops of each of the towers, and a patrol rotation set up for the various corridors of the castle. In addition, defenders were set up at the various entrances to the castle, particularly the viaduct entrance and the clock tower courtyard, next to the covered bridge.
It thrilled Fleur to see Harry take charge of the situation, an impression which appeared to be shared by Hermione, among others, including, it seemed, Professor McGonagall who was in overall charge of the castle with the Headmaster gone. The professor was content mostly to allow Harry to run the show as far as the Association was concerned, though she did voice her opinion here and there, guiding Harry toward things that he had perhaps not considered, tightening the defense of the castle. She had, after all, lived through the first war with Voldemort, and had already been the Deputy Headmistress at that time, so she would have had a certain amount of familiarity with this exact situation during that conflict as well.
For the most part, the remaining students appeared to accept what was happening with calmness, and there was little complaining with the instructions given to them. Part of this may have been the fact that classes were cancelled for the afternoon, but Fleur suspected that most were impressed with Harry's performance. Even the Slytherins—or what was left of the Death Eater children—were quiet and sat talking in low voices amongst themselves. Harry had set up watchers to keep an eye on the Slytherins in case they should try something, but thus far it had seemed to be unnecessary.
The only person who made trouble was the esteemed Head Boy, who, it seemed, thought he should be taking Harry's place in coordinating the patrols, with prefects performing that task, rather than Association members. He was disabused of that notion rather quickly by the Deputy Headmistress.
"Thank you, Potter, for being so… eager," Roger said as he approached the table the house-elves had moved to the front of the Hall for their use. He skewered Harry with an unmistakable sneer which clearly displayed his contempt for Harry and his abilities. "But I think I can take it from here."
Harry glanced at Roger, before shrugging and turning his attention back toward Fleur and Hermione, and the troop leaders who had gathered around the table to receive their instructions.
"Didn't you hear me, Potter?" Roger then demanded, apparently quite put out that he was being ignored. "Run along like a good little fifth-year. I'll call you when I assign you your patrol."
"Oh, I heard you, Roger," Harry replied without turning. "But Dumbledore put me in charge of patrolling the castle in his absence, so what you want really doesn't matter much."
Fleur, who was standing on the opposite side of the table from Harry, immediately noted the way Roger flushed at being dismissed so summarily. His wand hand twitched as though he was considering hexing Harry from behind, when the voice of the Headmistress brought him up short.
"Is there a problem, Mr. Davies?"
"The Head students and prefects should be responsible for this, not Potter," Roger angrily stated.
"Professor Dumbledore decided that Mr. Potter should take the lead in this situation. His work with the club and the training that the club members have received make them ideal for this task."
"But—" Roger started, only to be cut off by McGonagall.
"I am sorry, Mr. Davies, but we need to see to the patrol rotation. If you have a problem with the Headmaster's decision, I suggest you take it up with him when he returns."
It was a dismissal plain and simple, and though Roger's countenance darkened significantly, he could do nothing but stalk back to the Ravenclaw table and flop down on the bench heavily, though once he sat, his glare never left Harry. Fleur understood his point to a certain extent—the Head students had likely been the ones in charge of such a situation during the last war. But Harry's emergence as a leader and the work he had done with the club had changed the situation materially. It only made sense for Dumbledore to put him in charge.
Now more than an hour into the Headmaster's absence, they were basically doing little more than taking reports from the various Association members, and waiting for word to arrive. Of course, it was then, when Fleur was not occupied with other thoughts, that her mind defaulted back to what had been absorbing her attention since the previous day—the state of her relationship with Harry, and his relationship with Hermione.
To be honest, Fleur was not certain what had come over her. Her abilities confirmed what she had known all along—Harry had loved Hermione as more than a friend for quite some time. These same abilities were also telling her that Harry loved her, and the thought was comforting and thrilling at the same time. Certainly the toe-curling kiss they had shared before entering the hall for lunch had been an indication—a physical one albeit—that Harry felt very strongly for her indeed.
But the meeting of the heart and the head was not always perfect, and since the events of the previous day, Fleur had felt doubt entering her very being, and it had taken most of a sleepless night to determine exactly what it was that was bothering her. And what she had finally been able to determine was that she was afraid that Harry loved Hermione with a deep abiding love, one which she would never hope to achieve with him herself.
Hermione had the past five years of constant companionship as a foundation of their feelings for one another, after all. What did Fleur have? They had only even been acquainted with one another for the past year and a half, and only that until the previous summer when they had been suddenly thrust into this marriage contract with no advance warning. It was actually surprising that they had managed to gain the level of emotional connection they had, considering the beginnings of their acquaintance. But though her heart argued that Harry loved her, her head noted that he did not love her with the depth and passion he loved Hermione. And that was the crux of the matter—would Fleur forever be second in Harry's heart?
Fleur had no answers, and for the first time she had begun to regret the offer she had made so precipitously to Hermione the previous August. Without her encouragement, Harry might never have felt anything more than the love of a friend, or the nostalgia of feeling that she might have been a girl with whom he could have been happy. Now she was stuck with this situation and she was not certain what she could do about it.
But she had known the situation and had specifically chosen it, because she had felt guilty that she had been the means of separating them when she could sense the devotion they had for one another. It was ironic that she was now so afraid of what she had known all along. But what had seemed like it would not be such a bad thing—having a portion of her husband's heart rather than have him resent her for being the means by which he was separated from his true love—now seemed to be something which might end up haunting her. After all, knowing now what it could be to be loved by Harry in actuality was quite different from what she had imagined. She now knew that it would be a great hardship to never have the love that he already shared with another.
Still, there was nothing for it. She would need to keep her feelings firmly reined in, and work her way through her troubles herself. It was still early in their relationship, after all, and it was still possible that it would all work itself out to her satisfaction. At least she hoped so. The prospect of spending her entire life second in Harry's heart to another was now not one she wished to contemplate.
The work of pushing through the Ministry toward the upper levels was arduous, and consumed far more time than the rescue team would have hoped. Voldemort appeared to have thrown the entirety of his strength at the Ministry in attempt to topple the government as quickly as possible. As they made their way up the stairs, they found the same situation played out on floor after floor—Ministry workers taken by surprise, lying in the hallways, injured or dead. Those who had survived the initial assault were hunkered down in different rooms or cubicles, fighting desperately to keep the Death Eater forces at bay. The carnage was awful and the devastation substantial and it only became worse the further they progressed up toward the Ministry administration offices. It quickly became clear the casualties were of such a significant number that the entire Ministry would be seriously undermanned for the foreseeable future. That was assuming they were able to beat back the attack at all.
As they went, they surprised the Death Eaters assaulting the building, as they had obviously expected that their forces had gained control over the lower levels to prevent any relief from arriving in that direction. The fights with these groups of Death Eaters were short and brutal, with no quarter offered or given. Finding themselves caught between the opposing forces, many immediately activated portkeys and fled the scene, rather than be annihilated, which in itself revealed another troubling circumstance. Portkeys to or from the Ministry building could only be authorized by department heads and the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, and yet these men were using them. This brought a whole new and troubling dimension to the attack, and one which Albus felt he would have to think about more when the opportunity presented itself.
As they came closer to the second level housing the Auror offices, the fighting became even fiercer, as the Death Eaters were more concentrated toward the Auror office, and consisted of those of much better training and competence. But the team Albus led into the upper portions of the building had also been reinforced by Order members who had answered the call by Elphias Doge, as well as a large force of off duty Aurors—apparently Scrimgeour had managed to get a message out. But until the phone booth had been put back into operation—a detail had stayed in the Atrium for that purpose—there had been no way for them to access the building.
But when they finally reached the second level, they were met by a force of Aurors led by Kingsley Shacklebolt and Alastor Moody.
"Albus!" Moody greeted them as they met near the stairs. "It's about bloody time you showed up."
"Hello, Alastor," Dumbledore greeted the cantankerous Auror. As an acquaintance of many years, Albus was used to Moody's ways. "What is the situation?"
"We've managed to beat the Death Eaters back, but all attempts to gain access to the first level have failed," Moody replied.
"Albus, they are using portkeys, and we couldn't get any of ours to work. With the Floo down as well, the Minister must still be in her office."
It was a further level of complexity. If the Death Eater forces had discovered some way of circumventing portkey wards, both in creating portkeys to bypass existing wards, and denying previously authorized portkeys, then that was a very serious situation indeed, and it put into question the wards around Hogwarts as well. The only reason why Albus did not turn on the spot and return to Hogwarts was because he trusted those left at the school to inform him if anything should happen. Regardless, he would need to go back very soon…
"Where is Director Scrimgeour?" Albus queried.
"Dead. He tried to portkey up to the first level and the results were… messy. We've been trying to figure out how to get up there—the Death Eaters hold the top of the stairs in force."
Albus thought about it for a moment, before he turned to Alastor. "I believe I can assist in that, Alastor." He turned to Shacklebolt. "Prepare your men for an assault. I will clear the way and allow access to the next level."
Alastor merely nodded and turned away, beginning to bark out instructions, though some of the others gave Albus disbelieving glances.
"What do you plan to do?" Sirius asked, as he sidled up to Albus's side.
"What I must," Albus replied with a significant glance. Clearly Sirius was more than a little concerned at this less than satisfactory response, but he said nothing further, merely nodding his head and turning back to Remus. The grim expressions were rampant in the surrounding fighters; no one quite knew what they would discover when they reached the next level, but it was certain it would not be pretty.
Focusing on what must be done, Albus motioned Alastor to approach.
"Alastor, have a look up with your eye. What do you see?"
Somewhat disconcertingly, Alastor's magical eye rolled up in his head, though the man did not turn away from Albus. "The Death Eaters have approximately two score men guarding the stairs, most with wands out, ready for action. Further away, I can see several in a firefight with some others, but beyond that, I cannot tell—they are out of range of this eye."
"That will do," Albus replied. "Are your men ready to move?"
"Aye, Albus," was Alastor's gruff response. "I hope you have something up your sleeve. Those men have the higher ground—it will be a bloodbath if we charge up the stairs at them they way they are now."
"I shall attempt to encourage as many as possible away from the stairs as I can," Albus said with a wry smile. "Just be prepared to move."
At Alastor's nod, he—and Shacklebolt, who had been standing listening to the exchange—moved back and prepared the men for the final assault, leaving Albus to consider his options. It would take a rather powerful demonstration with enough flashiness to force the men away from the stairs. It was also necessary to ensure that not too much damage was done to the surrounding structure—it was not much good to deal with the Death Eaters guarding the doors while causing the entire stairwell to collapse.
Deciding on his strategy, Albus turned back to Shacklebolt and Moody, motioning them close. "I will have to get closer to them to be able to act. Wait down just out of sight, and when you hear me cast, begin your assault." He gazed at both of them sternly. "I hardly think I need to tell you that you will need to be quick—I will only be able to do this once, so we must make it count."
Both men nodded at him and Albus disillusioned himself, cast cushioning charms on his feet, before beginning to make his way carefully up the stairs. He stopped part way up to the first landing, as a spell splashed against the wall and dissipated. The Death Eaters were using revealing spells periodically to detect anyone who was attempting to do exactly what Albus was doing. He would have to be extremely cautious.
A step before he reached the landing, Albus halted, and he began the long and complicated incantation of the spell he had decided to use. As a young man, Albus had had an insatiable desire to learn, and one of the things he had explored was the magic of other lands. It was where he had come across his first reference to horcruxes, and had learned from where they had originated, though he had never wanted to learn any more of them. He had travelled the world studying the magics of other cultures, and had returned to Britain after that, armed with the knowledge of many esoteric spells, many of which seemed to have little to no use.
As a people, the wizards of India had a certain affinity for fire, which was ironic, considering their other affinity was for snakes. With this ability to do fire magic, they had developed many spells which utilized this element, some more useful than others. When he had journeyed through that country as a young man, he had come across the spell he was about to attempt. Roughly translated, it meant 'fiery orb of flame,' and it resembled the balls of flame Veela could command when transformed into their bird forms, though it was much more powerful.
A moment before Albus completed the incantation, he stepped up that final step and, turning and training his wand toward the opening at the top of the massive stairwell, he unleashed the spell.
To say that Albus was surprised was an understatement. He had never actually seen the spell cast, though he had heard tales of its prowess. It required a truly powerful wizard to cast, and in the instant after he had cast it, with the resulting power drain, he could understand why. It was almost more like a wall of flame and from the moment it emerged from his wand, it roared up the stairs in a fury, its power rivaling that of fiendfyre, though it did not posses the malevolent sort of intelligence of the cursed fire. The men at the top of the stairs had only an instant warning before they were engulfed in the eldritch flames, and the two Albus could see from his position were incinerated almost before they could move.
Screams erupted from the area beyond the stairwell, and as Albus caught his breath, he heard the sounds of running feet approaching, as the Ministry forces took that as their cue to begin the assault. Having the presence of mind to cancel his disillusionment spell before he was trampled, Dumbledore sagged against the banister, allowing the Aurors to move to the top of the stairs while he recovered.
From there it was almost anticlimactic. Most of the Death Eaters guarding the stairwell had been incapacitated or killed in the first rush of the wall of flame, and those who remained unharmed, quickly activated their portkeys, fleeing the scene. As the Ministry forces poured out onto the floor, they began fanning out to the various offices, intent upon vengeance against those who had wreaked such destruction upon the Ministry that day.
Though Albus would have liked nothing more than to seek the comfort of his bed after casting such a tiring spell, he pushed himself up the stairs and into the Ministry administration offices, lamenting the lack of a pepper-up potion.
What greeted him was expected, but no less shocking nonetheless. The administrative offices were in ruins. Doors lay smashed to kindling, great rents dotted the stonework while the floor was littered with rubble, and the count of bodies was greater than Albus had hoped. Regardless of how the day would ultimately turn out, there was no doubt that the Ministry had paid a high price to Voldemort's forces this day. Victory or defeat, it would be a monumental effort to restore the spirits of the populace after the destruction and death Voldemort had wrought.
As they pushed through the offices coming closer to the Minister's offices, the resistance of Voldemort's forces dwindled. The mere sight of a large force of Aurors, led by Shacklebolt and supported by the intimidating sight of Alastor Moody and accompanied by himself, if Dumbledore was not being too proud, induced them to flight—the battle was clearly lost.
When they had finally reached the Minister's office, they found the large mahogany doors and the entire wall to have suffered heavy damage, but they were still intact and holding despite all which had been done to breach them. Whatever else had happened, it appeared that Minister Bones had managed to keep Voldemort's forces at bay while she awaited the rescue. It was only a few moments later when the doors were opened, and Madam Bones, together with Jean-Sebastian Delacour, and two Aurors, emerged from the office. Never had Albus felt so elated to see someone. They had held the day.
Updated 05/31/2014