Disclaimer: Harry Potter does not belong to me.
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CHAPTER IV
Midnight.
Godric's Hollow.
The dragon shelter.
Dark.
The villagers of Godric's Hollow had congregated to the dragon-shelter underground. The shelter just happened to be under the local pub, so Lily was forced to endure the complaints of a half drunk.
"Look 'ere mate, 'oo says all the--" hiccup "--about dragons is real? Dragons, the lady tol' me. Dragons! Barkin' mad…"
The villagers were huddled in groups in the underground room. Mothers tended to whimpering children as men discussed in dark whispers, throwing significant looks at the witches and wizards in the room. The witches and wizards themselves exchanged news of the attack, unheeding to the Muggles. Occasionally, they would hear a thud or crash or roar and all would jump in fear, Muggle and wizard alike.
Lanterns and wand-light were divided chaotically, scattering uneven glows in the darkness. They flickered, casting unwanted shadows upon the wall. The villagers drew closer to the lanterns and to themselves; the room got colder as the night wore on.
"A Hungarian Horntail, I'm afraid," murmured Edward Bones, after a particularly loud and clear thud and screech from above. The wizarding folk all looked at Lily.
She was sitting in the corner in the dark, looking at her lap. So helpless down here, so useless, pathetic, should be doing something…Lily felt their eyes on her and was obligated to reply, "Don't worry, it's all being taken care of."
Many of the Muggle men snorted.
"For all I know," growled the irate barman, "Me pub an' me house might have burned to the ground!"
Lily felt her head pound and stomach nauseous. James, she thought, oh God, James, what if he dies? Where is he? What if he dies?
Lily looked at Alice, who sat beside her, holding Lily's hand in her own. Alice's eyes were closed and she mouthed words Lily could not comprehend. Even in the weak lantern-light, there was no mistaking the glistening trail of tears on Alice's pale face. Lily squeezed her hands, grateful she had Alice by her side.
The half drunk was getting restless. He was pacing the room impatiently, muttering to himself.
"What are we doin' 'ere anyway?" he stated to the room in general, startling all. "Dragons ain't real! We're sittin' 'ere like a bunch o' cowards, all cause they—" he pointed at Lily "— says 'dragons are attackin' the village'! Blimey, an' we believe 'em!"
All these worries in her head made Lily want to vent out her emotions. This nitwit was perfect. She stood up, facing him and putting on the coldest expression she could muster at the moment. She tried to put the image of a motionless James with blank eyes into the back of her mind.
"Go out there, then," said Lily, looking at the man straight in the eye.
"Wha—?"
"I said," Lily repeated through clenched teeth, "Go out there, then."
The people in the room looked at both the man and the woman fearfully.
"I ain't takin' no orders from you, lady," said the half-drunk disdainfully. "Especially from a freak like you."
At the word 'freak', Lily snapped. She strode over to the man. Everyone kept looking on with fear. Lily grabbed him by the collar. Mercifully, Lily was taller than the man. His eyes were wide, perfectly sober. She'd scared the alcohol right out of him. Lily leaned closer, nearly nose to nose. He smelled filthy, of beer and rotting fish. His breath was poison.
"My husband," she began, her voice shaking with worry and anger, "is risking his life for sods like you."
She shook him with vigor. The image of a dead James had come to her again. She had never said sorry…
"If you can't appreciate it, I'll make you appreciate."
She was dragging him now, up the stone stairs and out of the shelter. They were in the pub now. Lily didn't care much anymore. She saw red and tears blocked her vision.
Don't be dead James. I'm so sorry, so sorry…
She kicked the door open of the pub and thrust the man outside. He screamed like a banshee. Drawing out her wand, she stepped outside…
…And saw titans clashing.
The air was full of them, dragons of every size, color and breed imaginable. The sky was bright as day with flames scorching the night air like temporary suns. It was hard to tell who was winning. It was hard even to distinguish which dragon was on which side (there might be no sides at all, though Lily). The sound was deafening. Screeches and roars of both men and dragon intermingled with the roar of flames. With a lurch of her stomach, she saw bodies drop out of the sky and crash into houses, setting them aflame. At first, she thought they were casualties of war, but the barrage of dead bodies did not cease. With another sickening jolt, this one much more painful, she realized the flaming bodies were dead Muggles.
The man had fled inside and she followed suit. When she returned, the man was in a corner, crying silently. She, pale and shaking, reassumed her seat next to Alice. She stayed silent as she was bombarded with questions.
Lily could have sworn one of the falling bodies had jet black hair and hazel eyes.
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They had gathered in the main tent, which was the size of a large courtroom. Huddled together, they all leaned closer to the radio in the middle of the room.
James took his wand and tapped the radio, muttering, "Ministry of Magic".
The radio cackled to life, with scattered words echoing throughout the room. The static still crackled as the news anchor spoke.
"We have regained contact with the victims of the latest attack by Lord Voldemort and his Death Eaters. It was a strategically planned offensive on all Wizarding communities in the country. Mercifully, there were nearly no casualties and absolutely no deaths—"
There were whoops of relief and muttered thanks among the soldiers. They were soon hushed by others in the tent.
"—among Wizardkind. However, countless Muggles had been tortured and…" there was an unexpected pause as the news anchor gulped audibly, "…and used as living projectiles and bombs in the attacks."
There were cries of horror and uneasiness among them.
"This was an attack to frighten and intimidate the Wizarding community," came the gruff voice of Barty Crouch, "In NO WAY was anybody in danger. The Ministry IS prepared."
Sirius grunted beside James. He had his chin resting on his fist in the thinker's position. "Yeah, but it just goes to show how helpless everyone was, doesn't it?" said Sirius. "Nobody could stop it."
James just nodded and continued listening to the radio.
"Probably the most intense of these attacks was the one on Godric's Hollow," the voice of the news anchor returned, "The village had to be evacuated due to a squadron of Death Eaters on dragons. It is believed that Godric's Hollow was targeted this way because the village is the home to many of the more prominent wizards and witches, mainly Dumbledore, the Bones and the Potters. In fact, when the village was burning, it was Edward Bones and Lily Potter who led the effort to calm the fires. Voldemort's whereabouts remaining unknown as investigations continue…"
Remus put his hand wearily on James' shoulder. He smiled tiredly (the full moon was days ago) and said, "She's alive, mate."
James nodded and went outside, away from the ruckus. He stared, looking up at the stars, the image of a dead Lily in his arms etched into his mind's eyes.
"Merlin, I really fucked up this time."
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Lily was the first to leave the large dungeon hall where the wizarding lawmakers had just passed the draft legislation. It was passed with support from almost everybody in the room. The session had ended and now Barty Crouch and Cornelius Fudge were accepting congratulations from their fellow peers. Neither of them would tell them the draft was James Potter's idea, conveyed to them by his wife, of course. They would humbly accept the praise, pretending they were the clever ones.
Lily snorted. Politicians.
The announcement would be made tonight via Wizarding Wireless Network and owl. And as early as next week, all able-bodied young men would be arriving at designated stations around the country. The Ministry officials would be signing them in and sending them off to their deaths.
Don't be so pessimistic, though Lily sharply.
She Apparated to her house and climbed into bed, hoping life was but a dream.
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Later
James looked at his assembled troops approvingly. The draft certainly propelled his numbers into a formidable army. The number of volunteered hands had also been increased. House-elves had broken their ties to their families to fight against Voldemort. Foreign witches and wizards had heard the Ministry's plea and rushed to their aid. Centaurs, for the first time in ages, had stepped out from their forest and joined wizards. Many more oddballs and oddities had come to help and James welcomed them with open arms.
They all wore protective robes that deflected most curses and hexes. Every witch or wizard carried a sword. There were certain advantages as fighting like Muggles.
Dumbledore put his hand on James' shoulder. "I think we would like to hear some words from our leader."
James nodded, pointing his wand at his throat.
"I'm not one for fancy talk," James' voice carried throughout the grassy plain where the army was assembled, "but I do have to say this: I'm proud of each and every one of you who came out here today to fight for what is right. Even if we lose, we'll know that we didn't cower and hide while Voldemort took over. We fought our hardest. And those Death Eaters? Let's give them some death to eat."
And enormous roar went up. They were ready.
They heard a distant noise coming from the horizon. It was the sound of marching feet. Voldemort's army had arrived.
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"I repeat, we have made contact and will engage the enemy in combat."
Lily turned off the radio and hoped everything would turn out alright.
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Midnight.
Midnight is usually when people have fallen in slumber and await their dreams. Midnight is usually when we forget the day and welcome another. It is the time to give your body to sleep and rest.
But not for the beings locked in combat fighting to the finish. Midnight arrived and none took notice because too much blood was spilled for anyone to care anymore. Three days and more they had been fighting, and they continued as if it were only the first offense.
Remus, with his brute strength blessed unto him by the curse of the werewolf, threw a Death Eater ten yards where the Death Eater fell and broke his neck and died.
Sirius cast a huge fireball into a horde of Inferi where they crumpled and burnt. He then went on to stab every single troll and giant, determined to bring them down.
Frank took on ten Death Eaters and managed to bind them together and knock them all unconscious.
James cursed every Dark thing he could find into oblivion.
And Dumbledore himself fought the Dark Lord himself, his face impassive as he blocked every curse from Voldemort.
The night was ablaze with sparks, fire and spells. The battle wore on, but it was clear that the Death Eaters were dwindling. The battle would soon be over, James' army slowly gaining power among the Death Eaters. But the fight was not yet finished.
Dumbledore's cry of pain jolted James out of his frenzy of cursing. James hurried to the old man. He laid on the ground, oddly twisted, his frail limbs sprawled around him.
"James," Dumbledore whispered, "you must finish him off."
"Where is he?" asked James.
"He is flying away," muttered Dumbledore, pointing to the sky.
James took a vial from his robes and put the potion in Dumbledore's mouth. The old man sighed in relief and James was off.
Seeing a thestral nearby, James hopped on, taking flight after Voldemort.
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"We won! WE WON!"
The news anchor's delight was barely hidden as the announcement was made and all across the country, people repeated with uncontrollable glee.
Lily sat back in her sofa and sighed.
"Though Voldemort has fled, our Head Auror and commander, James Potter himself, is hot on his tail!"
Lily's breath hitched.
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It was the cold, early morning and James was exhausted. It was hard to sit up, so he laid on his belly, bleeding from mouth and forehead. Not to mention the other million places where blood had escaped. The thestral that had so faithfully helped him catch up to Voldemort lay on the rocky ground, dead. The head was a few yards away, severed, its eyes staring unseeingly beyond.
Voldemort himself was in the same position as James, lying on his stomach. The only noise was each other's breathing.
"You should join me," whispered Voldemort in his cold hiss, "You have noble blood in you. The Potters are a fine legacy. Join me. You know what I do is right…"
"Fuck off and die," James muttered.
Voldemort laughed. "It's so easy to see into your weak little mind, Potter. I see that you and Lily Potter are not what you seemed…"
"Shut up! SHUT UP!!"
James got up now, picking up his sword. It hurt, every part of him. The sword felt heavy in his hand. So did his wand.
"I'm going to make you bleed like every other man in this world, Voldemort," vowed James.
Voldemort got up as well. "And I will make you suffer and thousand ways and cast your body to the Inferi."
James thrust his sword and wand into Voldemort's chest. At the same time, the words "Avada Kedavra" escaped from Voldemort's thin lips.
Everything went black.
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