Wars Harsh Toll

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter. Sorry for the delay with this chapter. It was being difficult.

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January 2-14, 1996 Hogwarts

Just barely over half the students that left after the attack on Hogwarts returned at the end of the 'normal' holiday break. Slytherin in particular had been gutted ... there were precisely three Slytherins who were fifth year or over that returned, and all three of them were fifth years: Daphne Greengrass, Tracey Davis and Blaise Zabini. Half of the first through fourth year Slytherins had failed to return as well, leaving a grand total of less than two dozen Slytherins. They seemed rather lost sitting at their huge and badly denuded House table. Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff had lost roughly a quarter of their members, mostly from the younger years. Gryffindor had lost the least, half a dozen all told, and most of them had been muggleborns affected by the increasing attacks, and thus unable to return due to losses in the family or the loss of their homes and belongings.

McGonagall responded by consolidating classes. The few Slytherins were combined in with either Hufflepuff or Ravenclaw for classes. After a long talk with Severus, who then talked to his Snakes, they were also moved into Hufflepuff's dorms, rather than be isolated from everyone else when there were so few of them. Severus, of course, was still their Head of House, but this way they weren't rattling around in the Slytherin dorms like a handful of marbles in a wardrobe. Most of the Slytherin table disappeared from the Great Hall for the time being. There had apparently been a discussion about the Slytherins eating with the other Houses at every meal, but it was eventually decided that going to that extreme might make them feel like they'd been booted out of Slytherin or something.

Security had been tightened to the point where Harry would have been surprised if an unauthorized flea got in, but considering Rita's animagus form, that was actually probably a good idea. Not that she'd bother with Hogwarts much, not when she had loads of juicy stories to write about in the wider world. Six more students, all muggleborns, had lost their lives along with close to a hundred innocent Muggle bystanders during the two-month break. Thanks to the increased spending for the Aurors and the basilisk armor for the Order, no one else had been lost from those organizations, but there'd been a huge number of debilitating injuries.

Their classes had taken on a grim air. The students that had returned all seemed to have one goal ... learning enough to survive the mayhem that was trying to tear the Wizarding world apart. The teachers were all in like moods, and Charms, Transfiguration, Dueling and even Potions were all concentrated on things that could be used in defense or offense.

Snape, freed of the onus of being a spy (and tied to a thoroughly reprehensible creature) had become ... quite tolerable ... in class. He was still a strict perfectionist, and given to snarky comments, but the sheer viciousness and bias he'd displayed had disappeared almost entirely, though there were times he seemed to lapse back into it out of habit. It made classes a lot easier to deal with, to the point where even Neville had begun to have better luck with his potions, now that he wasn't shaking with fear of Snape.

Laws be damned, the fifth years and up were beginning to be taught apparation. And though they wouldn't be managing it anytime soon, the New Marauders were now far from the only ones learning to become Animagi ... over a quarter of the students fourth year and up turned out to possess the skill. Harry had been startled, since he'd been told that Animagi were rare, and had asked McGonagall about it.

"Animagi aren't as rare as most people think." McGonagall told him. "But it's a skill that doesn't have a necessarily applicable attribute, unless you plan to become an Auror or the like, so most people never bother to discover whether they have the ability or not, and many of the ones that do discover it simply don't have the drive to complete the transformation. Your father and Sirius had a definite goal in mind that drove them to complete the transformation."

Fudge hadn't been too terribly far from the truth, with his mad obsession. He'd just been a bit beforehand. Hogwarts really was training an army ... but not for Dumbledore. This was out of sheer necessity.

The only truly bright spot in that first couple of weeks was the fact that Fred and George completed the Animagi transformation within two days of each other, and, true to their mischievous nature, used their forms to entertain Gryffindor Tower with their antics as they chased each other all over the Tower.

January 15, 1996 Hogsmeade

Just past midnight, in the near-total dark of a waning crescent moon, a person could be forgiven for thinking that Hogsmeade was a ghost town. Not a light was on, not a chimney smoked, and there was certainly no one out and about at this hour of the morning. The town, bright and light and active during the day, huddled in the dark and the snow at this hour, looking shabby and abandoned. Even Hogwarts, just visible in the distance, better resembled the hulking, dark and brooding den of a mad scientist rather than the school for magical children it actually was, with all its windows dark.

So it was that there was no one to see the movement at the edge of the Forbidden Forest, which bordered both school and town along one side. The movement soon resolved itself into more than two dozen people wearing black cloaks and silver masks, the one in the lead skipping occasionally like a child, an air of anticipatory glee wrapped around it. Though they quickly became more than visible on the expanse of white snow, there was no one awake to sound the alarm.

Silent as wraiths, the black-clad figures split up into pairs, making their way down Hogsmeade's streets, arranging themselves in front of certain homes and businesses. At an unseen, unheard signal, every wand was raised in concert, and a volley of simple Reductos and Incendios began the night's ... entertainment.

Within seconds, the homes so attacked became alive with noise and movement as the inhabitants were woken by their homes shaking to ruins and burning down around their ears. Screaming in fear, most of them fled their homes, racing straight into the waiting, laughing arms of the waiting Death Eaters. Those few who retained their wits upon waking in so unexpected a manner and attempted to apparate quickly discovered they were unable to do so.

Within moments, fully half of Hogsmeade was alight, and many of its residents lay dead or dying. The few who'd not panicked upon waking were trying desperately to mount a defense, but they were too scattered to do much good.

It was Rosmerta that turned the tide. She slept in room above the Three Broomsticks, and when the lower level very nearly fell out from underneath her thanks to the Death Eaters, she was one of the ones that retained her wits. Braving the half-destroyed stairs and the raging fire, she made her way to the downstairs fireplace where the floo connection was. She got a fire going in the grate easily enough, considering the fire raging around her, and found just enough powder in part of the broken, spilled jar to make a single call.

Knowing that the Aurors would never be summoned in time, and that there was quite a number of able-bodied adults at the school, she made her choice.

"Hogwarts Headmaster's Office!"

Had Dumbledore been alive, it was entirely possible the call would have gone unanswered. Not even he was usually awake at this hour, and despite the growing unpleasantness beyond Hogwarts' doors and his exalted position in Wizarding society, he had never made any provision for if someone tried to contact him after he went to bed for the night.

McGonagall, thankfully, was not that great a fool, and had put a spell on the fireplace that would automatically divert the call to the fireplaces in the Head's rooms, her classroom office, and the staff meeting room if she was not in the Head's office to receive the call. So it was that the roar of the fire and Rosmerta's frightened voice roused Minerva McGonagall from a sound slumber.

"Minerva! Hogsmeade is under attack!"

Minerva hustled out of bed and raced into the sitting room. "Rosmerta? We're on our way. Hang on!" She called, then quickly scrambled into clothes and slashed her wand at a simple silver instrument sitting on the mantle. Seconds later, a loud alarm sounded throughout the school, waking the staff and students.

"Sonorous! HOGSMEADE IS UNDER ATTACK. ALL STAFF AND STUDENTS TO THEIR STATIONS." McGonagall bellowed the words.

Hogwarts came alive with activity. Staff (which included some Order members) and students rushing to pre-arranged places to defend the castle if it became necessary. Half the staff raced for Hogwarts' main doors, to defend Hogsmeade. What no one was expecting was for the New Marauders to follow them, grim-faced and determined. McGonagall gave them a displeased look.

Harry gave her one right back. "You're going to need all the help you can get." He pointed out. "We've been training since the start of summer. We know what we're doing and what we're getting into."

McGonagall did not look best pleased, but admitted that Harry had a point. "Very well. Stick together and watch your backs."

"Planned on it." Harry said, and they all raced for Hogsmeade.

Harry skidded to a halt near the Shrieking Shack. "Ron, Fred, George! Use your animal forms to get into the houses and get people out. Neville, Ginny, Hermione, with me. We'll draw their fire."

Everyone nodded and Ron, Fred and George shifted to their animal forms, racing ahead of the rest of the New Marauders, their small forms quickly becoming lost in the mayhem.

Between the smoke, flames, and snow, it was nearly impossible to see much of anything clearly. Even spellfire. Harry very nearly got his head blasted by a yellow-orange spell that was virtually impossible to tell from the flames behind it until it was almost too late. He threw himself to the ground with a yelp, and Hermione quickly threw up a shield while Ginny and Neville returned fire. None of them could see where the Death Eater was at, so the best they could do was lay down covering fire while they tried to get out of range. More by luck than by design, one of their spells hit a structural member in a half-destroyed building they were fairly sure was the hiding spot, and the whole thing collapsed. There were no more spells from that quarter.

"We better go check." Harry said after several long moments of no spells.

Carefully, the four of them edged towards the collapsed building. It didn't take long to find the Death Eater, unconscious but apparently mostly unharmed by the collapsing building, half-buried under some wreckage.

"Right. Accio wand! Accio portkeys!" Hermione said firmly. Half a second later, a wand and a dull gray sock zipped towards her. She stepped aside so the sock wouldn't hit her, since they had no way of knowing how the portkeys activated, and wand and sock fell to the ground. She pocketed the wand and carefully wrapped the sock in a bit of torn drapery before putting it in her pocket.

While she was doing that, Harry was making sure the Death Eater would not get a chance to get away, carefully working them out of the wreckage and then casting the spell that Ron, Hermione, Cho and Gabrielle had been subjected to last year during the second Tournament task. It would keep the Death Eater asleep until he released the spell. One down, who knew how many to go. Harry and his group started working their way deeper into Hogsmeade.

Deeper in Hogsmeade, a ferret, honey badger and raccoon were racing towards the homes that were being destroyed, the ferret riding pick-a-back on the badger. Despite all three not being native to Britain and two of them being in the 15-30 pound range, they were managing quite easily to run around unremarked.

They skidded to a halt when they got to the most-devastated sections of Hogsmeade, then began to search for survivors hidden in the wreckage. Their animal senses ... and their small sizes ... came in handy for that. Building after building came up empty. Finally, they found traces of someone in one of the buildings fairly close to the continuing action, and the ferret (Rascal), being smallest and lightest, worked his way into the building. Inside, he found a toddler who had apparently dived under their bed when the chaos began. The bed's sturdy construction had kept the little boy safe, but most of the house had collapsed around him, making it impossible for him to get out on his own. Rascal turned around and headed back out, and moments later returned with Rogue and Grumbler. The three brothers then transformed and started levitating bits of collapsed house aside. Once that was done, Ron hunkered down to peer under the bed at the terrified, silent toddler.

"Hey there, little guy. C'mon out. It's all right. You'll be all right now." Ron cooed, trying to imitate the soothing voice his mother had used to calm him (and Ginny) when they were little. He didn't realize it, but he was doing a pretty good job at the imitation. "Come on out of there and we'll get you to Hogwarts, right? I bet you'd love to see it, wouldn't you? It's really brill. We can show you around, even."

The little boy, responding more to the tone than the words, began to crawl towards Ron, and once close enough, Ron gently pulled him out of his hidey-hole. Fortunately, the boy was completely unhurt, just scared out of his mind ... and possibly, probably an orphan at this point. Just. Ron somehow managed to keep that sad thought out of his voice as he continued to gently pat and reassure the little guy.

"Y'see these two? They're my big brothers. This one's Fred, and that one's George. We're gonna get you out of here, ok?"

The little boy, still silent, just stared at the three of them, wide-eyed and anxious, tears still streaking down his face, before he buried his head in Ron's chest.

Ron gave the little kid a sad look, then glanced at Fred and George. "Shrieking Shack?" He recommended. It was far enough out of town to probably not get hit by the Death Eaters, and thus their nearest way to Hogwarts. All of the tunnels out of the school had been booby-trapped, but the New Marauders, the teachers and Order members all knew how to use the tunnels without triggering the traps.

"Probably the only one useable. I'm pretty sure Honeydukes was ablaze. We'd never manage to get in there." One of the twins said.

The other twin nodded. "We'll go ahead, make sure the coast is clear. If we circle around the village, we ought to be all right."

The main street of Hogsmeade was a warzone. The bulk of the Death Eaters had ended up here, herded there by the tightening noose of Order members and teachers. The fight was bloody, vicious, no-holds-barred brutality at its worst. The Death Eaters, cornered and finding themselves unable to portkey (one of the first things Mad-Eye had done), were fighting for their lives, and trying to take as many people with them as possible. The defenders, which included a good number of Hogsmeade residents by that point, while limiting themselves to non-Dark spells, were not exactly sparing the Death Eaters any mercy.

Most of the adult defenders were working in teams of two, so that they had someone at their back just in case. It was proving to save their hides from the utterly nasty spells the Death Eaters were throwing around. So far, no one had been hit by anything that would screw with their lives forever, though a few simpler spells (bone breakers and the like) had gotten through, mostly because the person being attacked was more worried about a really nasty spell coming at them from a different direction.

Slowly, one by one, the Death Eaters were being worn down. Unfortunately, that's when Voldemort showed up. The defenders, knowing that he couldn't be dealt with permanently right then (as there was Nagini and two other Horcruxes out there somewhere) and that any attempt to hex him so badly that he'd be slowed down would likely lose a lot of valuable lives, promptly retreated, making tracks for the tunnels to Hogwarts (and hoping a Death Eater or ten would be dumb enough to follow them).

Oddly ... Voldemort let them go. They didn't stop to wonder why.

Harry and his group, seeing Voldemort arrive, joined the general exodus unseen, though Harry dearly wished he could hex the bastard. Unfortunately, at this point, it would have been a useless gesture, and he knew it. Fortunately, they managed to reach the Shack unmolested, and headed inside to get to Hogwarts.

The next few hours were rather chaotic, as people were treated for their injuries. All too soon the death toll began to tally up ... almost a quarter of the town's residents were dead, and most of the rest injured. By noon, it became clear that Hogsmeade herself had been burned to the ground.

It wasn't until sometime after lunch that the exhausted defenders discovered something else. Dumbledore's grave, put at the edge of the main clearing near the Forbidden Forest and Hagrid's Hut (this had been done before they found out all of what Dumbledore had done), had been ... vandalized.

From the look of things, someone had actually tunneled in from a spot inside the Forest that was just beyond the school's protective wards. They had then dug Dumbledore up and ... stolen his wand.

That made no damn sense whatever to anyone. Harry in particular was deeply angry.

"So ... all those people killed, a town destroyed ... all for a diversion so Voldemort could, what, have a trophy?" He muttered something nasty and unrepeatable. "I am rapidly getting to the point where I really won't lose so much as a second's sleep for ending him. I really won't."

Shortly after that, he and pretty much everyone else collapsed into bed. Before he did, though, Harry made a mental note to poke Voldemort's brain and see why the bastard had done this. If it really was just to get a trophy ... well, there'd definitely be an accounting, sooner or later.