Chapter 73 – Storm Front
The first thing Harry noticed as the portkey deposited them near Voldemort's lair was that there was not much more light than the night when he and Ginny had killed Nagini. Though a week had passed and there should be more light, the moon still had not risen—or it had already set; Harry was not certain. But though the landscape did not look at lot different than it had that night; it somehow seemed more sinister for some reason, a circumstance which Harry thought was somewhat of an irony, as he had been by himself that night with only a fourteen year-old girl for company, not a veritable army as was present now. Harry shook it off as nothing more than fancy. The trials to come were making him feel jittery, he decided.
"Come here, Harry," Dumbledore's voice floated to him through the darkness.
Turning, Harry looked to where the ancient wizard—recognizable in the dim light due only to his long and the outline of his long beard—was standing to the side with several others.
"The attack is about to commence," another voice said. Harry thought it to be Director Shacklebolt. "Once the attack starts, we will move toward the house. The point is to try to make Voldemort make an appearance when it becomes evident that we are destroying his forces. We are attempting to allow him a very specific escape route which will lead him directly to us.
"According to our informant," Harry could barely make out the man's glance at Dumbledore, "Voldemort is almost always to be found in a large room toward the rear of the manor, which he has set up almost like a throne room. We are hitting the manor in a way that they should be taken by surprise as we hit them on all sides at once. However, all of our Aurors have orders that should Voldemort himself be spotted, that he is to be left strictly alone. We will allow him to make his way toward Mr. Potter and the Chief Warlock, where they will engage him and defeat him. Is that clear?"
Those in the area murmured their agreement, which seemed to satisfy the Director. He once again spoke up. "Very well. Until then, remember the plan. The curse breakers and ward breakers will bring down the wards, and then our forces will storm the building. Once they are fully engaged with the enemy, the French Aurors will portkey in and join the battle. The surprise factor should be enough to put the Death Eater forces fully on the defensive, even if they are not already. Good luck to us all."
With a nod, the Director retreated, presumably to go to his forces which were about to lead the attack. Those remaining behind stood for a few moments before they began to disperse slightly, though they all remained in close proximity to the rest of the group, waiting for the command to move forward toward the manor.
For the first time, Harry was able to look around and try to get some indication of the lay of the land. They were in a small depression, about which brush and low lying weeds grew haphazardly around the larger, though still stunted trees. It was a hollow, not unlike any others in this blasted country, with no distinguishing features whatsoever.
Curiously, wanting to know where in relationship to the manor they stood, Harry indicated to Sirius that he was going to look around.
"That's fine, Harry," Sirius responded. "Stay close. We might be moving at any minute."
Agreeing, Harry walked to the edge of the depression, and began climbing the side, though he hunched down as he came closer to level ground. Reaching a vantage point where he could see the surrounding countryside, he peered out of the hollow, and gazed out at the manor in the distance.
The lights of the house twinkled in apparent unconcern, and the landscape looked much the same as it had that night a week earlier. In fact, the more he thought about it the more . . .
Shocked, Harry turned abruptly and looked back down into the hollow, and then back at the twinkling lights, a suspicion forming in the back of his mind. Though his instinct was to run back down to Sirius, he carefully pulled back, intent upon not being seen by chance from the house, little likely though it appeared.
He hurried down the side of the depression, and when he arrived by Sirius's side, he said somewhat breathlessly, "I think this is the place we killed Nagini."
Turning, Sirius peered at Harry with some surprise, as did Jean-Sebastian who had been standing close by. "Are you sure?"
"As sure as I can be," Harry replied with a shrug. "It has been pretty dark both times I've been here, so it's tough to tell."
Harry paused and looked around the small depression. Aside from himself and the two men, Dumbledore stood to one side speaking with several Aurors, and there was evidence of others waiting for the signal to move toward the manor, though the lack of light made it difficult. Of the depression itself, it was almost impossible to determine exactly what it looked like, and the last time he had been here he had been a little too busy to be paying attention to such extraneous details. But he thought the area looked familiar, almost as though he was experiencing a sense of déjà vu. A certain tree across the way appeared to be familiar as the one to against which he had banished Nagini, and though he could certainly tell nothing about the state of the ground, he fancied that the spot where he had killed the snake was no more than about twenty paces away. It was eerie and exhilarating all at once.
"I think it is, though," he finally replied, looked back at the two men. "It hit me when I went to have a look at the manor. If it's not the one, then it's not far away."
Sirius and Jean-Sebastian exchanged a look. "I'm not sure whether to take that as a good omen, or a bad one," Sirius finally said.
"I'm not sure it's one at all," Jean-Sebastian replied in a businesslike tone. "We should concentrate on what we're doing; the signal could come at any moment."
Harry knew that this was good advice—he would need all his wits around him to defeat Voldemort, after all, even if such a thing was possible. But he still could not help looking around to see if anything else would catch his eye and jog his memory. The horror of the night and its aftermath were both painful memories, but by now Harry had learned to be philosophical about it. He would never forget the lessons he had learned on the one hand, while on the other he knew he had contributed to Voldemort's defeat that night, though perhaps he should have gone about it in a different way.
His search disappointed him. Other than his initial impressions, nothing else spoke to him, telling him that he stood near the spot where another of Voldemort's horcruxes had met its end. Truth be told, Harry felt his spirits fall a little, though he could not state why with any certainty. The idea of waiting to take on Voldemort himself in the exact spot where he had killed the man's familiar seemed like an omen which boded well for the coming confrontation.
Turning his attention away by force of will, Harry glanced around the clearing, noting Jean-Sebastian and Sirius watching him closely, as they watched the rest of the landscape for any hidden dangers. Of Dumbledore Harry could not see any evidence, though he knew the Headmaster would be close at hand.
It was then that he noticed something else which surprised him to a certain extent. He sidled closer to Sirius, and said, "Are those goblins over there?"
"The goblins are involved in this too, Harry," Sirius replied, answering Harry's question. "They are the ones who Voldemort is directly targeting this time around, you know. They set the anti-portkey and anti-apparition wards which will prevent the Death Eaters from escaping."
"I know," Harry whispered back. "I just didn't think they'd be participating in the actual attack."
"The goblins are actually an ancient warrior race," Sirius replied. "Why do you think there have been so many goblin rebellions? They have hidden it under a veneer of civilization, but at heart, goblins are warriors. They profit now from business rather than war, but their savage nature is only submerged beneath the surface."
Harry frowned. "So they could rebel again?"
Shrugging, Sirius replied, "It's always possible. But they are also not a numerous people, and as wizards evolved their magic and became more numerous themselves, the goblins realized they would be overwhelmed if they attempted to fight us. So they turned their energies toward other ways of gaining wealth.
"A fascinating people, the goblins. You would do well to study their history. They can be powerful allies, when they will deign to ally themselves with a wizard."
Nodding, Harry turned away, wondering how much he had missed over the years with his lackadaisical study habits. Or perhaps he had not missed much after all—Binns was not exactly known for anything other than droning on about the goblin rebellions, after all. More likely, this was something he would have to learn from a book.
Shaking his head to clear it of such thoughts, Harry attempted to focus on the coming confrontation. Voldemort would be making an appearance soon. He had best be ready.
It was quiet. Too quiet in fact.
The monstrosity of the manor loomed close at hand, some sort of monolith—a standard of evil, dedicated to the overthrow of all that was good and right in the world. Of course it was nothing more than a Muggle dwelling which had fallen on hard times and been abandoned to the elements. Tonks knew that. But the sight of it filled all who looked too closely at it with a sense of dread, regardless of its origins. For the manor contained a dark lord, a man who was known to dispatch those who annoyed him with as much effort as most would expend swiping at a buzzing gnat. Only the truly powerful and confident—or foolhardy—stood up to him and lived to tell the tale, and the foolhardy would do so only with extraordinary luck.
Knowing that the dark lord was likely waiting for them, eager to dispense his own brand of twisted justice to those who dared to invade his abode, filled Tonks with a sort of trepidation the normally happy-go-lucky Auror rarely felt. Tonks was well aware of the fact that some in the Auror force considered her to be far too light-hearted for such a serious job. But she also knew that she was trusted to do her job when required, regardless of her tendency to crack jokes and have fun. But she was unconcerned with the opinions of those around her—her superiors knew what she was made of.
But whether it was fancy or something else, something just seemed off to Tonks. And when she thought about it, she decided it was the complete lack of any activity from the manor. It looked nothing more than an old building whose inhabitants had gone to bed leaving everything silent and calm. Or it would appear that way, if a good number of windows in the manor were not lit with ghostly lights shining out onto the landscape like pale beacons.
Should the Dark Lord not have his minions patrolling the surrounding countryside, protecting against just such an invasion? What could he be thinking, to allow them to come this close without any opposition? Tonks had heard the reports, and she knew that a lot of Purebloods were rather lazy, depending heavily upon their magic to defend them. But this seemed to be excessive. This man was trying to become the new power in Britain—should he not be acting like a military commander, rather than a fat Pureblood of the upper echelons of society?
To her side, Bill Weasley stood, gazing at the manor, but where she was looking at it with a sense of unease, Bill was all business. He had his wand out and he was muttering incantations, frowning at something only he could see. At intervals around the southwest edge of the wards, the scene was played out over and over again. As a first necessity, the wards had to be neutralized, and any traps the Dark Lord had left behind for the unwary had to be disposed of. The latter was why Bill was here—he was on loan from Gringotts, and she knew that he was a very good curse-breaker.
"What are you seeing?" Tonks whispered to her companion. She was assigned to him to protect him, as they expect a searing response once those within became aware that the wards were under attack.
"Give me a minute," Bill replied, as he continued to wave his wand.
A tense few moments of silence ensued, during which Tonks tried not to look at the manor with dread, wishing she could see what Bill was seeing. The benefit of an active imagination was the ability to adapt and respond in an unconventional manner when presented with a problem; the downside was, of course, the tendency for the imagination to run rampant in certain circumstances. In this instance, her imagination was turning out to be a curse, as she dreamed up all sorts of scenarios which ended rather messily. Shuddering, Tonks turned away and focused on what Bill was doing—it was one way to take her mind off the silent and forbidding manor.
It was a full five minutes before Bill ceased his casting and turned to her. "He's one sadistic bastard, all right," Bill said with a grimace of distaste.
"What?" asked Tonks. "What's going on?"
"There are traps layered into the wards, and the ground beyond the wards is littered with them. The first is a withering curse, which will turn anyone to dust in seconds should they trip it, and there are many more where that came from. Those first curses are tied directly into the wards. Beyond that, though, is a jumble of different curses—explosive curses, bone-shattering curses, organ liquefaction, you name it. He wants anyone crossing the distance between here and the manor to suffer for every inch they take."
Shuddering, Tonks turned a critical eye toward the seemingly innocent grounds. "Can you disable them?"
Bill turned a feral grin on her. "Oh yes, we certainly can. You see, he's very intelligent and vindictive, but it's obvious that he's not experienced when it comes to laying traps and setting up wards.
"He never should have tied anything into the wards," Bill continued, stroking his chin thoughtfully. "Those curses will come down when the wards are breached, and as long as the ward-breakers know what they're doing, they won't trip them. And even worse—for Voldy—he's tied all the traps in together. It's easier to do it that way, but again, when one is removed, they all go."
Chuckling, Bill turned to Tonks and grinned. "There were some tombs in Egypt that had traps layered upon traps. We literally had to inch our way across the floor taking out one trap at a time—traps that would kill you in seconds. This is nothing compared to that."
While Tonks found it heartening that crossing the ground would be easier than she had thought, she was still concerned. Voldemort had not gotten to where he was by being stupid, after all. Surely he had to know the best way to lay traps—especially when those traps protected him and most of his forces from the retribution of the Ministry!
"Are you certain?" Tonks asked with some skepticism.
Shrugging, Bill replied, "As certain as I can be without getting closer."
"I find it hard to believe that the Dark Lord would be so stupid."
"It's not stupidity," Bill countered. "It actually shows a lack of experience more than anything else. In fact, it's a fairly common mistake that I've seen before."
"Could it be a trap?"
"Anything's possible," Bill conceded. "Just don't go running out there as soon as the wards come down, in case he's got some other traps hidden below the ones he's got tied together. We'll know for sure when the wards come down and we take care of the traps that I can see. It will take a lot of combined power to remove them, though—it's obvious that he's very powerful."
"I'll keep that in mind," said Tonks in a dry tone of voice.
"Please do," Bill said with a warm smile. "Let's not give Voldemort any more victories than we can. I'd prefer to see you come out of this in one piece."
Bill then returned to his examination of the traps which lay strewn before them, leaving Tonks looking sidelong at him. Though she could not say for a certainty, Tonks suspected that Bill was looking at her with some interest, and on occasion, she had gotten the impression from Mrs. Weasley that she would not oppose Bill choosing her as a prospective mate.
And Tonks had to admit that there was much to like in Bill. He was tall, fairly broad-shouldered, handsome, and available. He was more than two years older than she, and had been the Head Boy at Hogwarts when she had been in her fifth year, and she did not think that there were many girls at the school who had not had a crush on him at one point or another. In other circumstances, Tonks would not only be interested, but also somewhat flattered should he turn his attention on her.
But Tonks had already found her man, and she was seeing definite signs from Remus that he returned her interest and that he was getting over his insecurity issues. Maybe if things did not work out with Remus she could explore something with Bill, but until then, she would wait for the wolf, as she thought they made quite a good couple. Some might think that she was crazy—Bill was successful and much nearer to her in age, after all. But she really did not consider the age difference to be much of an impediment given the long-lived nature of magicals, and assuming that things changed with the Dark Lord's defeat, there would hopefully be more of an opportunity for Remus to make a living. He was truly gifted in some respects, and together with what she made, she thought they would do very well together.
But now was not the time for such thoughts, she told herself firmly. Tonks peered back at the building, watching and waiting, knowing that it would not be long now that the professionals had been given the opportunity to examine the defenses.
And she was right. It was a mere ten minutes later when Shacklebolt arrived at their location. He gathered the nearby curse-breakers and ward-breakers into a group and began to address them in a low tone.
"We are very nearly ready. You all know what you need to do—when the signal is given, bring those wards down and get rid of whatever surprises Voldemort has waiting for us, and the attack will commence."
Turning to one of the ward-breakers, he said, "How long will it take for you to bring the wards down?"
Several of them exchanged glances before one took the lead and replied, "It's difficult to say. There isn't much ambient magic in the area, though I'd say the levels have been rising since You-Know-Who took up residence. They are very strong, though, so I would think that he placed them himself. It should be no more than a few minutes or so, depending on the response from the manor and what kind of resistance we run into."
Nodding, Shacklebolt turned to Bill—he was acquainted with Bill, and seemed to look to him as the spokesman. "And what has he left in our path for traps?"
"A few nasties tied into the wards," was Bill's reply, echoing what he had previously told Tonks. "We can help protect the ward-breakers from those while they do their jobs. Then he has a bunch more out on the grounds all over the place. We should be able to neutralize those quickly."
Shacklebolt nodded. "Then we'll wait until the curse-breakers give the signal. Once the wards fall and the traps are dealt with, we'll storm the building. Any questions?"
"An observation," Bill replied. "It looks like we can get rid of the traps fairly easily, but everyone should watch where they're going. I wouldn't put it past him to have something layered beneath what we can see now."
"Understood," said Shacklebolt with a nod. "I'll pass the word around." He fixed the entire group with a stern glare. "Let's make this as quick as possible so we can get in there and take care of this menace once and for all. I'm not sure how much the removal of the defenses will take out of you all, but make sure you get to a safe place once you've finished your business. The Auror forces will take care of the rest."
And with a nod, Shacklebolt walked away, to return to the command center, Tonks thought.
By her side, Bill muttered, "Yeah, like that's going to happen."
Stifling a chuckle, Tonks turned back to her contemplation of the manor. Bill—like most of those here—had suffered some losses at the hand of the Dark Lord. In his case, the loss did not, thankfully, include the loss of life, but his family home had been destroyed, and his father had been injured by the Dark Lord's familiar. Of course, that creature had already paid for its evil, courtesy of one Harry Potter, but that did not douse Bill's desire for payback. And she knew that many of those in the party felt the same way, and some of them had lost family members or acquaintances to the Death Eaters' depredations. More than one score would be settled that night.
It was a wait of no more than ten minutes more before the signal was given. The different parties had all been given a small crystal orb, all of which were tied into a master orb via a protean charm, and when the orb glowed yellow, the assorted ward breakers and curse breakers stepped forward to begin the assault on the wards.
Stepping forward with them, Tonks stayed to Bill's side, alert for any response from the manor. The ward-breakers were clustered in a tight group on the edge of the wards where they knew a ward-stone was buried some distance beyond the edge of the wards. First they would overload that section, then cut a hole into the wards, after which the ward-stone would be neutralized, bringing down the entire structure.
The sound of muttered incantations filled the air around her, and she glanced at Bill, seeing him waving his own wand in the air, a low stream of words issuing from his mouth.
It was only a few moments before the night was lit up by the response from the manor. A veritable storm of spells issued forth, their colors as bright and varied as a rainbow, to slam into the ground all around them. Some found their marks, and ward-breakers and curse-breakers, and a few of their Auror protectors, fell in the onslaught. The screams of the injured and dying filled the air, but those who still remained standing continued grimly in the face of the assault.
Then all at once there was a distant shattering sound, like that of breaking glass, and the wards collapsed, winking out of existence. Immediately, those Aurors in the vicinity took up the fight and the counter-attack began with a hail of spells flung back at the defenders in the building. For a moment the returning fire lessened significantly as Bill and several others edged forward and began the work of removing the traps.
A tense few moments ensued where the two sides exchanged fire while the curse-breakers worked. Standing by Bill and a little in front of him, Tonks kept a close watch out for enemy fire, levitating a tree branch in front of a killing curse—and being showered by a hail of splinters when it exploded—and deflecting a rather nasty looking sickly yellow curse which followed it up.
"All right, it's clear," Bill yelled, as he ducked a storm of curses which came his way. "Send them in!"
The cry was taken up and echoed down the line of attackers, and within a moment, the orb in Tonks's hand glowed red, signaling the general attack. From all around her the force of Aurors which had laid back waiting for the signal surged forward, and moved as a wave crashing upon a shore. Tonks, with Bill by her side, followed in its wake. The attack had commenced.
In the command center, Jean-Sebastian watched as the events unfolded. He had left Harry and Sirius a few moments earlier when they were alerted to the fact that the attack was imminent, and he was thus much closer to the edge of the wards the rest of those who waited. But though he wished that he was with them, protecting Harry, he knew he was needed where he was. He would be the one who would give the signal when it was time for the French Auror force to join the attack.
"Are you ready, Jean-Sebastian?" Dumbledore asked from his side.
"I doubt any of us are truly ready for this," Jean-Sebastian replied.
"No, but it has to be done."
Jean-Sebastian nodded. "And it will be. The French Aurors are ready and waiting for the signal. We'll join the fight and finish this dark lord once and for all."
"The cost has already been high," Dumbledore rumbled. "Let us hope that it does not become immeasurably higher before the night is done."
The Headmaster left, leaving Jean-Sebastian alone with his thoughts. He was well aware that Dumbledore had not meant to leave him fearful of the night's outcome, but the Headmaster's words had chilled him, even more than he already was. What they were doing was dangerous, but it was also necessary. Jean-Sebastian just hoped that he was not condemning the best and brightest of their Auror corps to death at the hands of Voldemort and his minions.
Forcing such thoughts away, Jean-Sebastian kept a close watch on the manor, and therefore saw everything that occurred, though from a distance. The battle erupted at a point when he assumed that the wards were under attack, and then when the wards came down—the hazy and indistinct shield winking out of existence, as though a thin veil had been removed—he saw the blitz of returning spellfire sent off by the attackers, impacting the manor and those defending it. From the distance he heard the cries of those hit by the spells and he shivered. They were playing for keeps and there was to be no quarter offered or accepted. It was a fight to the death.
Then when the wave of British Aurors surged forward to attack the stronghold, he turned to the Auror captain standing to his side. "The signal will come soon. Make sure the men are ready."
The captain bowed and turned back into the darkened countryside to pass the word while Jean-Sebastian peered intently at the manor. The British force surged forward and within a few moments they had reached the edges of the building. Rather than attempt to go in through the few doors or the windows, they chose the simple expedient of blasting their way in through the walls. Great holes appeared at intervals along the walls and the entire structure seemed to groan under the weight of the explosions which were rocking its very foundations.
Within moments, the first elements of the Auror force had made their way into the building and much of the defending spellfire ceased, turned inwards to protect the manor from the invading force.
Slowly, Jean-Sebastian began counting down once the British Aurors had begun to enter the building, and within moments, the cracks of apparition were heard, and several British Aurors appeared within the confines of the space the French forces occupied. Within moments, several ropes were passed around, all which glowed with the dweomer imbued within them. The plan had been simple—some of the forces pressed into the manor to continue the attack, while a few had stopped, taken a note of their surroundings, and apparated back to the staging area.
Waiting a few more precious moments, Jean-Sebastian watched their forces progress into the building, and when it appears as though the battle was sufficiently joined, he turned and motioned to the French forces.
"Allez!" the cries welled up around Jean-Sebastian and the groups of Aurors holding onto the ropes disappeared in a blur of pseudo-motion. At the same time, many other groups of Aurors turned on their heels and apparated away, in a two pronged attack—the ones by portkey to their designated locations within the manor, those by apparition to sites on the outside.
Only a second later, Jean-Sebastian saw those apparating arriving to their destination, and at once, they moved into the building. The cries of pain and shouts of consternation seemed to rise in intensity and volume as this new threat materialized within their midst.
Gazing with satisfaction, Jean-Sebastian turned to leave the area and head to where Harry was waiting with his escort. If he hurried, he just might be able to make it in time to confront Voldemort with them. Harry would have all the protection Jean-Sebastian could arrange. He had promised Fleur that he would take care of her betrothed.
The battle was well and truly joined.
Within the manor building, Bill and Tonks made their way through the twisting corridors, each covering the other when they ran into resistance. The building was old and decrepit, a true standard to the decay and disease which ate at the heart of Voldemort's movement. It was also laid out in a rather haphazard manner, with hallways crisscrossing each other, interspersed with larger rooms, and doorways, leading to bedrooms, sitting rooms, not to mention kitchens, and every other conceivable space imaginable.
Thus far resistance had been light, though Tonks was expecting that it would stiffen, especially when they had reached the upper floors, where the Death Eaters had likely retreated to.
Dodging a nasty purple spell, Tonks shielded while Bill responded with a banishing charm and a stunner. The first caught the Death Eater firmly in the chest, throwing him against the wall with a bone-crunching thud, while the second mercifully relieved him from the burden of consciousness.
Peering around, Tonks saw no more enemies, but the Aurors continued to swarm, checking all the rooms for overlooked defenders and watching for counter-attacks.
"It's a rush, isn't it?" Bill exclaimed, as they began moving forward through the house.
"A real treat," Tonks said sarcastically, though in truth she was caught up in the enthusiasm herself. The chance to strike out against those who wished others harm and bring them to justice was why she had become an Auror, after all. She just had not thought that she would be participating in a pitched battle.
"Come on Tonks," Bill said with a grin. "It's a chance to strike back. Get your licks in against the bad guys."
"If only they weren't firing back," Tonks muttered, much to the amusement of her companion.
The continued on into the manor, and after a moment, they arrived at a large set of double doors. Entering, they saw a number of Aurors already combing the room for any sign of the enemy. It was a large and spacious area, and its only furnishing consisted of a large, high-backed and ornate chair, which stood upon a dais at the opposite end.
Bill smirked and looked at her. "Looks like someone's got delusions of grandeur."
"As long as those stupid enough continue to treat him like a king, they're not exactly delusions," she rejoined.
Shrugging, Bill indicated his understanding with a nod. The two then moved out through the manor once again, fighting random Death Eaters as they continued on through the halls.
They eventually made their way up the stairs to the second floor, and for a time the resistance became much stiffer. But even then it was only a few moments before they had managed to rout the defending Death Eaters and capture many, while the others took to flight to escape their wrath.
"What's going on here?" Tonks said during a lull in the fighting. "It's much too easy. With Snape's report, we should be wading through them, and yet we're only meeting a few who are giving in much too easily."
It was clear that Bill was worried too. "I would have expected Voldemort to meet us at the doors, defying us all by himself."
Shaking her head, Tonks continued on into the manor. But she could not shake the belief that something was wrong. It was too easy, and it was not like Voldemort to shun a fight. Were they walking into a trap?
As events unfolded, Harry could not help but wish that he had Hermione and Fleur by his side. From the time he had entered Hogwarts, he had never faced a dangerous situation without Hermione—with the exception perhaps of the events of the Tri-Wizard the previous year, and even then Hermione had been close by offering her support. Then, of course, there had been the events in the graveyard when Voldemort had returned, but even then, the thought of Hermione and the desire to return to her had been a large part of his determination which had helped him to escape the seemingly hopeless situation. And Fleur, from the end of the previous summer, to the events of the school year—the Ministry adventure in particular—had become as essential to him as the air he breathed.
He was feeling more than a little bereft, if he was honest with himself, and the fact that it had been necessary did not comfort him in the slightest. Hermione, with her analytical mind and intelligence, would be searching out chinks in the armor of the defending Death Eaters and Voldemort himself, while Fleur, with her indomitable courage, would defy the Dark Lord himself in Harry's support. They were both keenly missed.
But he knew it was necessary, and as such, he tried to concentrate on what was happening. Unfortunately, there was very little to be seen. Though they had moved forward to the area where they hoped to eventually confront Voldemort, the distance was still such that there was very little that could be made out, other than the blaze of curses filling the air, and only than the roar of battle which was quite clearly heard, there was little information available as to the state of the battle. The only thing which was certain at this point, was that the invaders had not yet found Voldemort among the defenders. Harry began to wonder whether the man would make an appearance at all—Snape had not been able to get any information from him, after all, and it was entirely possible that he was out on some raid himself, though he had rarely stirred from the confines of his base since bursting back onto the scene after the Tri-Wizard tournament.
And still he did not appear. The waiting seemed like it was taking an age, when in reality it could only have been a few minutes. And those minutes continued to stretch on interminably.
In desperation, he turned to Sirius. "Can you see what's going on?"
Sirius did not remove his eyes from the spectacle playing out in the distance, but he did respond in a very quiet tone. "Just as much as you can see, pup. We'll get the signal soon."
"This waiting sucks," Harry said, a trifle petulantly.
"It does at that."
Harry turned his head to Sirius curiously. "But you were in the Aurors. You've talked about stakeouts and such. Didn't you get used to it?"
This time Sirius did turn to address Harry. "I don't think you ever get used to it, Harry. Yes, I was on some pretty long stakeouts, but even when you know you might be waiting for a while for something to happen, it doesn't get easier.
"And remember—though I was involved in some pretty heavy engagements, I was never part of a battle of the scope of this one. So I've never really experienced this before either. Just be patient—impatience can get you a long stay in St. Mungo's, if not worse."
Nodding, though he was more than a little frustrated, Harry turned his attention back to the manor, noting that although there were plenty of flashes of light appearing through the windows and the gaping holes in the sides of the manor, there was relatively little to be seen on the outside.
Periodically as they waited, a courier would arrive with some news or another, and though Harry was not privy to the discussion, he soon learned from Dumbledore and Sirius of the progress their forces were making through the building. Within a matter of a quarter of an hour, resistance on the lowest level of the old structure had been suppressed, and the Aurors were working their way up through the building to the second and third floors.
Heartened at the progress they were making, though still concerned that Voldemort had yet to be sighted, Harry peered out anxiously at the building, willing the evil wizard to finally make an appearance so that they could have it out once and for all.
"Come on, come on," repeated to himself.
"Patience, Harry," Sirius said, clapping a hand on Harry's shoulder. "He'll show. He has to. We just have to wait."
It was when Harry was turning to respond to his godfather, that the words he was intending to say died on his lips. Dumbledore stood on Sirius's other side, with several others waiting beyond him, and in the empty space behind and to the side of the ancient Headmaster, a shadowy form suddenly appeared in the gloom. Though he could not make anything out about the form, he could see the glittering eyes, and the wand held in one hand as it rose and pointed toward them.
The sudden sound of an insane cackle assaulted his ears, before a voice rose up and shouted gleefully, "Avada Kedavra!"
With no conscious thought, Harry pointed his wand at the ground and shouted, "Wingardium Leviosa!"
At his command, the spell which had saved himself and his two friends from the troll in his first year performed as intended, levitating a large rock from the ground, and straight into the path of the speeding killing curse, where it was headed toward the unprotected back of the ancient Headmaster. The curse impacted the rock and shattered it, sending fragments flying through the air, and showering them all with the small deadly projectiles. But though the Headmaster had been caught unawares and unable to protect himself, he quickly raised a shield to protect them from the deadly shards of rock.
A primal scream erupted over the clearing, and the blazing eyes of the intruder fell upon Harry. But it was when her voice sounded out her rage that Harry's suspicions of the identity of the attacker were confirmed.
"Time to feel pain, Potter!" she cackled, before leveling her wand in Harry's direction and crying, "Crucio!"
As the spell issued forth from her wand, Harry dove to the side, narrowly evading the torture curse which ploughed a furrow in the ground beyond where he had been standing only a moment before. Hastily, Harry climbed to his feet, his wand pointed at the insane figure of the witch who was still watching him through blazing eyes.
"Bellatrix!" Sirius thundered, as he raised his wand and unleashed a torrent of spells at his cousin. At the same moment, those in the clearing close by followed suit and unleashed a hail of spellfire at the mad witch.
But Bellatrix simply screeched at them and apparated away, mere seconds before the assorted spells impacted a tree in behind where she had stood.
"What in Merlin's name was that?" Harry gasped, as he came erect after Bellatrix's departure.
"My mad cousin," was Sirius's grim reply. "But the more important question is how she knew we were here?"
Jean-Sebastian ran into the clearing at that moment, and he strode up to them breathlessly. "What happened? I saw spellfire."
"Bellatrix Lestrange made an appearance," Dumbledore replied. "If not for Harry's quick thinking, I would even now be embarking on the next great adventure." Dumbledore turned his gaze on Harry. "What alerted you to her presence, Harry?"
"I saw her apparate in," said Harry. "I had turned to talk to Sirius and I happened to see her."
"I think the bigger question here is how she happened to be here to try to assassinate the Headmaster," Kingsley Shacklebolt said as he strode up. He peered at Dumbledore. "Wasn't Snape given the order to kill you?"
"He was," replied Dumbledore. "But he was told to wait for the signal."
"Could Bellatrix have been out patrolling?" Jean-Sebastian asked. "Could she have happened to come upon you?"
"It's possible," Shacklebolt responded. "But I hardly think it's likely. It looked to me like she came with the specific intention of killing the Headmaster."
"But how?" Sirius asked. "They weren't expecting an attack, and the battle appears to be going pretty well. I would expect Bellatrix to be glued to Voldemort's side protecting him."
"Unless he guessed what we were up to," Dumbledore replied grimly.
At that moment, a patronus streaked into the area—a large moose, which approached Shacklebolt to deliver its message.
The manor has fallen. Resistance has been suppressed. No sign of the Dark Lord.
Silence descended on the clearing for an instant before everyone began speaking at once, and for a moment, nothing could be made out over the hubbub of voices all attempting to make themselves heard.
Order was restored when Dumbledore released a blast of sound from his wand, held up straight in the air.
"That's better," Dumbledore said into the sudden silence. He turned to Shacklebolt. "Did you recognize the patronus?"
"No, but that doesn't mean anything," the Director responded. "I know there are a number who can cast it, but I don't know each one by sight.
Dumbledore nodded. "Send a few men to the manor to confirm this report. Let's make sure that this is not a trick intended to mislead us."
Shacklebolt nodded and within a few moments a pair of Aurors had departed with a pair of cracks.
"What are you thinking, Albus?" Sirius asked, his voice tinged with equal parts impatience and concern.
"I'm not certain," the Headmaster replied slowly. "But it has occurred to me that attempting to deceive the deceiver is fraught with danger."
"You think we may have been misled?" Shacklebolt demanded.
"It was always a possibility," Dumbledore conceded.
"Snape," Sirius growled, prompting the Headmaster to turn to him with an admonishing expression.
"If we have been misled, then it was not by Severus Snape."
"How can you be certain?" Jean-Sebastian demanded.
"Because of the ties that I have bound Severus with," replied Albus. "And as an additional measure, Severus agreed that I would be allowed to read him whenever necessary to prove his loyalty. I can tell you with complete confidence that everything Severus told me was exactly what Voldemort told him, without any deviations."
"Could this be some kind of elaborate game Snape is playing with Voldemort?" asked Shacklebolt.
Dumbledore shook his head. "If you knew the extent of the bindings I placed on that man, you would understand completely. I make no apologies for what I have done, though, for I did it with the good of us all in mind, though from a certain perspective it could be said that I violated the man's privacy."
"Then where does that leave us?" Sirius demanded.
At that moment, the two Aurors who had left to confirm the report arrived back and they huddled with the Director in a quick conference. After a moment of speaking with them, Shacklebolt turned his attentions back to those waiting, a grim expression etched upon his face.
"The report is confirmed," he said. "The manor is under our control, but the Dark Lord does not appear to be there. Our men are searching the manor for any hidden exits, cellars and the like, where he might be hiding."
"That's not Voldemort's style," Sirius protested. "He should have been waiting for us, ready to take us all on if necessary."
"Could they have pulled up and left after Snape was last here?" Shacklebolt asked Dumbledore.
"Then why would they have left someone behind?" asked Jean-Sebastian. "It would be better to just abandon the place if they knew it had been compromised."
"Unless they left some defenders to keep us occupied," was Dumbledore's grim response.
For a moment no one spoke and Harry, wild with worry, remembered a bit of a conversation he had overheard during one of his spying attempts on the Dark Lord's mind. At the time he had not understood what he meant, but now a horrible suspicion began to fill his mind, and he thought he knew what the Dark Lord was up to.
In desperation, Harry reached down into the confines of his mind and tried to open up the connection between himself and the Dark Lord, but try as he might, he could not find it. With the severing of the connection between himself and Voldemort the link had ceased to be and he was blind.
"Hogwarts!" blurted Harry. "He's attacking Hogwarts!"
"You don't know that, Harry," Sirius snapped.
"We've got to get there!" Harry cried, ignoring his godfather's words.
And, in a moment of desperation, Harry turned and disappeared from the clearing, the shouts of alarm ringing in his ears.
Updated 02/16/2016