Chapter 13 - Three Way Battle

Several hours later, Harry and Hermione were sheltering in the forest, flinching as the occasional scream interrupted the silence of the early afternoon. Harry was leaning against a tree, slowly tearing up leaves.

"How long d'you reckon we've been here?" he asked. Time seemed to have no meaning anymore; the seconds blurred into minutes, the minutes into hours. For all he knew, they could have been there for days.

"Four hours at least, probably more," Hermione answered, dispelling the notion of timelessness. Unlike Harry, she found that she couldn't relax, and had been walking in circles for most of their time in the forest. She shivered. "Those zygons are the foulest creatures on earth!"

"Except they're not from earth, are they?" Harry noted drily. Hermione shot him a death glare before continuing.

"Crabbe's dead, that's certain. I thought I saw Ernie go down too, but Padma's body blocked my view..."

Harry threw the remains of his current leaf away. "Why are you counting how many people died? Is it so important?" he asked furiously, standing up.

"Yes, yes it is!" Hermione sobbed. "I just need to reassure myself that it wasn't Ron, or Ginny, Fred or George who were killed!"

Harry took a breath and pulled Hermione into a hug. "I know, I worry about them too, but there's nothing we can do."

"If only Professor Smith were here," Hermione said miserably into his shoulder. "Going on what I've read about him, he's very good at this sort of thing."

Bang!

Harry and Hermione let go of each other and whirled around, expecting to see a zygon, but the surrounding landscape was empty of any discernible humanoid shape; the forest gloom made it hard to see anything further than thirty meters away.

"Hello?" Harry asked nervously, taking his wand out, an action echoed by Hermione.

"-Sy!" groaned a voice from nearby.

Harry and Hermione hastened over to the source of the sound, pushing through several coarse bushes. To their surprise, they found a man dressed lying facegrounding the leaf litter. Glancing at each other, Harry and Hermione pulled him up. He was fairly tall, and had spiky brown hair. He appeared to be in his late thirties or early forties, and was dressed in clothes that Harry recognised as the attire worn by the occupants of Azkaban.

"Ugh, vortex manipulators: cheap and nasty time travel," the man complained, stretching furiously. "For some reason, that was a lot worse than the last time I used it. I wonder why?"

Harry frowned at the man, he reminded him of someone...

The man strolled up to him, hands in pockets. "Well now, Mister Potter, what's going on?" he said, looking at Harry expectantly.

Harry's memory clicked, and he immediately recoiled. "Get away from me, you murderer!" he shouted. "You're Barty Crouch!" He pointed his wand at the man's face.

The man sighed. "No, Harry, I'm not, trust me!" he said urgently. "I'm Professor Smith, but someone's reversed my timeline so that I look like my previous incarnation. I'm also starting to act more like him again," he added thoughtfully.

"You're lying," Harry said immediately.

The man rolled his eyes. "I'm Professor Smith, I've been your science teacher for a good six months. My real name is the Doctor, and we've faced two zygons together, one of which was pretending to be your friend Ron Weasley. Happy?"

Harry kept his wand raised, but looked uncertain.

"Harry," Hermione said softly. "Crouch had his soul sucked out, remember? No one can survive that. This man – Professor Smith – looks like him, but isn't him."

"Fine, explain," snapped Harry.

The man sighed and scratched his neck. "Well, I'm an alien," he said bluntly. "And instead of dying, I change. It just so happens that my previous body, the one I was reversed into, looks exactly like this Barty fellow."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?"

"Because I give you my word. And in the middle of this forest, my word is all you've got."

Harry bit his lip and slowly lowered his wand.

"Thanks. Now, Hermione," the man said quickly. "What's happened?"

Hermione took a deep breath before answering. "It all started about two weeks ago, when they said you were carted off to Azkaban. Anyway, Umbridge was made Headmistress, and it's basically been hell ever since."

"Go on," said the man slowly.

"Four hours ago, some more zygons arrived in the middle of our daily inspection. A zygon came out of some sort of craft – they've got a disillusionment charm on it – and it - it killed Crabbe!" She burst into tears.

"S - sorry," she sniffed, wiping away her tears. "More zygons emerged and joined the first one, and they all started firing into the crowd. Harry and I ran into the forest and have been in here ever since."

The man's face darkened, and he exploded in anger. "What do the zygons think they're doing? Invading a Level Five planet is in direct violation of Article Fifty-Eight of the Shadow Proclamation! Where's their ship?" he demanded.

"That way," replied Hermione, pointing to her right.

"Allons-y!" the man said, and walked off into the direction that Hermione had indicated, the gloom of the forest rapidly swallowing him until he could no longer be seen.

"Why don't you think he's Professor Smith?" Hermione whispered.

"The fact that he looks exactly like Barty Crouch," Harry said, kicking a stone. "Plus the fact that he's got a completely different personality...too arrogant, I reckon."

"I'll give you that one, but he was still likeable," Hermione agreed, before returning to her favourite activity of walking in circles, while Harry leant against a tree and shredded leaves.

Up in Hogwarts Castle, the situation had improved, but only slightly. The teachers had been successful in casting shield charms that kept the zygons away from the doors, but to their horror, it had turned out that even the strongest charms weren't particularly effective against the constant onslaught of zygon weaponry. They all knew that it was only a matter of time before the charms fell.

"If only Albus were here," McGonagall whispered to the other teachers as they gathered in the Great Hall that night. The Hall had become the base of operations for the counterattack against the zygons; Umbridge and the Heads of Houses directed students and other teachers in their efforts.

"Rubbish, Minerva," replied Umbridge. "We are coping as best we can, and it is only a matter of time before the Ministry receives my owl and sends aurors in to help."

"But that's suicide!" squeaked Professor Flitwick. "You've seen what their weapons do to us! Even a moisturising charm can't counteract the effects!"

Umbridge glared at him before continuing. "I've requested that the aurors be supported by two hundred dementors."

Snape rolled his eyes. "Did it ever occur to you, Headmistress, that having dementors on the battlefield will only dishearten our own people, giving those creatures an advantage? What if they're immune to a dementor's effect?"

"Even if they can't relive their worst memories, they can most certainly get their souls sucked out!" Umbridge retorted angrily.

Bang!

Startled, the teachers whirled around, wands raised, to see a man panting, rubbing his arm ruefully.

"I'm thick!" the man said angrily. "I'm old and thick! I'd never normally go charging off to face a class one bioship armed with only a vortex manipulator and some prison clothes, but I did. Tell you what, it's probably all this radiation around, messing with my brain cells a bit." He sniffed. "At least the teleport worked."

The teachers stiffened as they recognised the man as Barty Crouch Junior, who most had last seen being escorted, unconscious, to the dungeons. In a flash, their wands were out and pointed at the man.

"You!" shrieked Umbridge, aiming her wand directly over the man's heart. "How did you escape Azkaban?"

The man shrugged. "Wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff."

"What?"

The man sighed. "Ontological paradox. I only escaped because my future self went back and let my past self free," he said simply.

"Oh," said Umbridge lamely.

Snape strode up to the man, grabbed him by the shirt and shoved him against the wall.

"You know, your little stint with the veritaserum almost had me believe that you weren't Crouch, but since only extremely powerful wizards are able to escape Azkaban...disregarding the animagus Black, the Dark Lord must have aided you," he said menacingly. "Did the Dark Lord aid your escape?" he snarled. "Did he?"

The man rolled his eyes. "No time to explain, so here we go. Allons-y!" he cried, grabbing Snape by the shoulders. The next moment, he slammed his head into Snape's in a vicious head butt.

Snape immediately recoiled in agony, clutching his skull. However, his eyes widened as a stream of information - memories - ran through his mind. He saw the truth behind the man's claim, that he wasn't Barty Crouch, and that he was Professor John Smith.

Dimly, Snape became aware that Umbridge was screaming something at the man - Professor Smith.

"Are you crazy?" Umbridge was saying. "Stupe –"

"No!" Snape interrupted suddenly, lurching forward and making contact with Umbridge's wand arm. The spell sailed safely over Professor Smith's head.

"Severus, what in Merlin's name are you doing?" McGonagall asked in disbelief.

"Stop, don't stun him," Snape said, breathing heavily. "This man...isn't Crouch...he's John Smith...like he said he is."

"Severus, he's confounded you! There's no way that he's not Barty!" Professor Sprout said worriedly.

"No, Pomona, he's John. The head butt transferred some of his memories to me," Snape explained.

The Umbridge, McGonagall, Flitwick and Professor Sprout still look confused, but Snape and Professor Smith were saved from further explanations when a student came running into the Hall.

"Professors!" a girl called out, bursting with news.

"Yes, Oswin?" Professor Flitwick asked.

"Professors, it's the Death Eaters, they've started apparating into the school grounds. They're attacking the creatures and us!"

"Nonsense, Oswin, You-Know-Who most certainly hasn't returned!" Umbridge declared immediately. "They are the aurors I sent for; the dementors mustn't be far behind."

McGonagall turned to her, nostrils flared. "Are you suggesting that Miss Oswin is lying in a life-or-death situation?"

"Yes I am!" Umbridge said stubbornly. "What I'm worried about is how the aurors managed to apparate here in the first place; the creatures must have caused the castle's protective enchantments to collapse."

"Can't we just contact Albus?" Sprout asked.

"NO!" shrieked Umbridge. "We are managing perfectly well on our own, we don't -"

She was interrupted by a silver streak zooming past her and disappearing.

Umbridge was livid. "Who's patronus was that?" she asked, her voice dangerously soft.

"Mine," said Snape sneered. "It may interest you to know, Dolores, but if Oswin here is right, then we are to need all the help we can get. Now, stay back."

Umbridge pretended to cower beneath Snape's deathly glare. As much as she loathed the man, she didn't dare do anything right now. Her time would come soon.

"Right," said Professor Smith cheerily, in an effort to break the tension. "We need to order all students to withdraw back into the school. If these Death Eaters – mind you, how can you eat death, exactly?" he asked, confused. "Anyone?"

"Uh, they don't," the girl said.

"Clara!" Professor Smith said, recognising the sixth year from his classes. "Why do they call themselves Death Eaters, then?"

Clara shrugged. "Intimidation, I guess," she said, before looking at Professor Smith curiously. "Who're you?" she asked.

"Professor Smith," Professor Smith said promptly. He frowned. "Death Eaters? Intimidating? Yeah," he said doubtfully. "Now, where was I – ah yes! So, if these Death Eaters are attacking students and zygons, wouldn't it be better to take the students off the battlefield and let these Death Eaters and the zygons battle it out by themselves?"

"Zygons?" asked Flitwick.

"The creatures, they're called zygons," Professor Smith replied matter-of-factly. "Clara, would you mind telling the others to get back in the castle?"

"Right. But how can you be Professor Smith? Professor Smith was younger, and had a lot of floppy hair and a bow tie."

Professor Smith waved her off. "I'll explain later," he said. Clara scowled before running out of the Hall to deliver the order to retreat.

Professor Smith turnedback to the other teachers. "Right, I'm going up to the astronomy tower to see how the battle's going. Should be able get a good view from that high up. Anyone else want to come?"

"I will," Umbridge volunteered. "As far as I'm concerned, you're an escaped criminal, so someone has to keep an eye on you!"

"Fine," Professor Smith said, and he grabbed her hand. "Allons-y!" he shouted, running out of the Hall, dragging Umbridge behind him.

"Let me go," Umbridge demanded as she was pulled up the marble staircase. Professor Smith obeyed and whirled around to face her.

"My clothes, where are they?" he asked.

"Sorry?"

"My clothes, the ones I was wearing when you chucked me in that prison, where did you put them?"

"They were destroyed, like every other possession a criminal has on them when they get there," Umbridge answered. "You'll have to do with those prison clothes!" She looked at the grubby one azkaban attire Professor Smith currently wore.

"It wasn't the clothes themselves I was worried about," Professor Smith said absently. "We're making a slight detour!" he said as he rocketed down the first floor corridor and ran into classroom six, Umbridge not far behind.

"What are we doing in your classroom?" she asked, only to see Professor Smith standing out the front of his blue box.

"Damn, no key," he said crossly, before snapping his fingers.

Click.

The door to the box unlocked and opened, allowing Professor Smith to dart inside.

"What are you going into your box for?" Umbridge said, attempting to follow her colleague inside, but as she approached, Professor Smith came charging out again.

"Allons-y!" he said again, grabbing her hand as he ran past.

"You've changed!" Umbridge said in astonishment.

"Clothes, yeah," Professor Smith agreed. "I couldn't bear wearing those prison clothes any longer, so I got changed. Seems my tenth self is reasserting himself," he mused, looking down at the brown pinstripe suit he was now wearing. "I also got this," he added, pulling out a thin, bronze coloured instrument from one of his pockets. "Sonic screwdriver, can't go without one!"

Five minutes later, Professor Smith stood on the astronomy tower, looking at the carnage below. Human and zygon bodies were littered everywhere. The majority were human, and Hogwarts students at that.

Professor Smith surveyed the area below with an expression of utmost disgust.

"Look at this," he said angrily. "All these students, people and Zygons dead because diplomacy wasn't an option." He shook his head. "The Zygons are amphibious, but they prefer water, so why not just live in the Lake? Senseless."

Umbridge, on the other hand, made a very different observation. "Why are the students retreating from those half-breeds?" she said crossly. "They should stand and fight!"

Professor Smith glared at her. "The zygons aren't 'half-breeds' at all; they're one hundred percent zygon," he said. "And the students are retreating for their own safety – surely you don't want to write more letters to mourning families than you need to?"

Umbridge sulked in silence. 'This fool needs to be disposed of. Should I push him over the edge?' she thought. 'No, people would see the body, and as I'm the only person up here...'

"Ooh, hold on." Professor Smith interrupted her sinister thoughts. He leaned a bit further over the tower wall. "Those eaters of death, or whatever seem to be charging the zygons from behind!"

Umbridge moved forward to get a better look. Sure enough, there was a distinct formation of robed figures marching toward the rear zygon lines, shooting spells into the horde of orange creatures.

"They're not Death Eaters!" Umbridge scoffed. "They're just an anarchist group. Either way, those creatures are dead!" she said with great satisfaction.

"I wouldn't be too sure," Professor Smith frowned. "There's something I'm missing." He took out his sonic screwdriver and activating it. "Oh, oh, oh!" he said after a short pause.

"What?"

"There seems to be a zygon ship above the grounds, ready to strike!"

"Where?" asked Umbridge, looking around wildly.

She got her answer when the ship turned off its camouflage circuits.

"Oh," she said faintly.

"What are they doing?" Professor Smith said curiously, before spotting a build-up of energy on the underside of the fuselage. "No," he breathed. "They wouldn't!"

But he was proved wrong as the zygon weapon fired, dancing across the battlefield, consuming every human on the ground. The dying screams of hundreds of Death Eaters echoed up to the ears of Professor Smith and Umbridge. Umbridge, for all her bluster, shivered.

"See what would've happen had the students not retreated?" Professor Smith said angrily, gesturing to the smoking, charred remains of Hogwarts' grounds. "They would have been massacred." He sighed. "C'mon, nothing else to see up here."

Umbridge opened her mouth to reply, but an alien voice drowned out her words.

"The humans on the battlefield have been destroyed. Our weapons systems are now locked on to the stone structure. You have one of your Earth hours to surrender before your structure is destroyed."

"No!" Professor Smith shouted, and he ran back down the stairs. He had to stop the students and teachers from surrendering. He had an idea...

FLASH

Dumbledore appeared in the Great Hall clutching Fawkes' legs.

"Oh Albus, thank God you're here!" Professor McGonagall exclaimed as soon as she saw the former Headmaster. "Hogwarts is being attacked!"

"By who, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked, frowning.

"The Death Eaters."

Dumbledore's eyes went wide.

"Not anymore," interrupted Professor Smith as he skidded into the Hall. "The zygons just killed all of them."

"Barty!" Dumbledore quickly withdrew his wand. "Stupe-"

"Headmaster, this man, despite his appearances, is Professor John Smith," Snape said quickly. "He...transferred some of his memories to me to save time earlier."

Dumbledore hesitated, but lowered his wand. He trusted Severus implicitly, but even so, doubts remained. But they could be pushed aside for the time being, so as to focus on other, more important matters. "These zygons, what are they?" he asked.

"Aliens who want to take over the planet," Professor Smith said simply.

"We were about to agree to their surrender," squeaked Flitwick.

"Don't," Professor Smith advised.

"Why not?" asked Sprout.

"Trust me, don't. If you we do surrender, they'll kill us. If we don't, then we have a chance to get ourselves out of this mess."

Umbridge finally appeared, sweating profusely and breathing heavily. "YOU!" she shrieked upon laying eyes on Dumbledore.

Dumbledore ignored her, and decided that it was time that Professor Smith - if it was him - gave some answers. "Why should we trust you, John?" he asked Professor Smith. "I think it's quite clear that you're not who you seem. Ever since you turned up in your box at the start of term, there have been questions that need answering."

Professor Smith looked strained. "Does it have to be now?" he asked, running his hand through his spiky hair. The teachers nodded. "Blimey, trying to negotiate with humans..." he muttered.

"Fine," he said finally. "My name isn't John Smith, it's actually the Doctor. I travel, in my blue box; it's a sort of...vanishing cabinet, but way more advanced." He sighed and continued. "I was actually intending to visit my granddaughter, but I ended up here instead. The old girl always has a reason for landing somewhere, so I decided to stick around and see what would happen. And, well," he trailed off. Everyone knew he meant the zygon invasion.

Umbridge snorted. "What utter rubbish. Granddaughter indeed! How old are you? Thirty-five? Forty?"

Dumbledore frowned. "As much as I find your answers intriguing, John, I will ask you to reveal some more once our current crisis is over. If we can't surrender to these zygons, perhaps we can try negotiating with them."

Professor Smith looked at him in alarm. "No, Headmaster, you mustn't. They will kill you if you step outside!"

"For someone so young, you know quite a lot," Snape said silkily. "Perhaps you should explain why the Headmaster should not attempt to negotiate."

Professor Smith let out a strangled cry of exasperation before answering. "I've fought the zygons before, twenty years ago, in nineteen seventy-five. They had a spaceship under Loch Ness and were planning to take over the world. I managed to stop them, but not before they'd sent out a message to their Invasion Fleet, the very Fleet which is right outside!"

The teachers looked at each other.

"Look, if you're still determined to negotiate, let me go!" Professor Smith said desperately.

"But you said they'd kill Dumbledore if he went outside, what makes you special?" asked Sprout.

"I'm clever," Professor Smith replied rudely.

The teachers looked quite affronted.

"Well I never!" McGonagall said, offended.

"The nerve!" squeaked Professor Flitwick.

Dumbledore deliberated. "Very well," he said after a moment. "John, please see what you can do to ease the current situation."

Muttering darkly, Professor Smith turned and marched towards the door, unlocking it, opening it, and stepping outside.

Click!

He was instantly greeted with the sight of an entire army priming their weapons and aiming them straight at him.

"What do you want, human?" one of the zygons hissed.

"I want to talk to whoever's in charge," Professor Smith replied.

The army snickered softly. "And why should we let you do that?"

"Because I'm the Doctor."

The army froze.

"I'll, uh, see what I can do," stammered the unfortunate zygon, and he quickly turned and disappeared into the ranks of his fellow soldiers.

The Doctor stood impatiently for several minutes, until a zygon pushed his way through the crowd. Unlike the others, this zygon exuded importance, right from the battle scarred, weary face, to the awed looks and salutes the other zygons gave him.

"I am General Zyrath of the Zygon Space Fleet," the zygon said, his voice fairly deep for a Zygon. "I have heard that you would like to talk to me...Doctor."

"Yes," Professor Smith said shortly. "Now, what is the point of all this?" he asked, gesturing around him. Hogwarts' grounds were no longer lush, green grass; they were charred, blackened earth. Bodies lay everywhere, littering the battlefield. Even the whomping willow had not escaped unscathed; it's trunk and branches were scorched, and a pile of ash beside it was all that remained of its leaves.

General Zyrath bristled. "The zygon race has been looking for a new home planet ever since ours was destroyed several thousand years ago. As two-thirds of this planet's surface is covered in water, we deemed this planet suitable for invasion and colonisation."

"But you can't just invade a level five planet; it goes against Article Fifty-Eight of the Shadow Proclamation!" Professor Smith said angrily. "Can't you just colonise without taking over the planet? Is it really worth it, all this death? Zygons are only allowed a specific number of casualties per battle, how many for this one?"

"One hundred. We thought the humans would be easy to subjugate."

"You were wrong. And how many have been killed so far?"

Zyrath scowled. "Three hundred."

"Aha!" Professor Smith said triumphantly, and he walked up to Zyrath with his hands in his pockets. "Which means what?"

"Direct engagement isn't working, a ceasefire should be implemented," Zyrath said reluctantly.

"So?" Professor Smith asked, eyebrows raised in expectation.

Zyrath sighed and spoke into his communicator. "This is General Zyrath. All troops are to retreat until further notice. This order cannot be countermanded."

Professor Smith relaxed. "Thank you," he said earnestly. "You have no idea how good it is to have people actually listen to me for once. Your compliance is much appreciated."

And with that, he turned and walked back to the castle doors. "We'll talk again soon," he promised, before opening the doors and slipping inside.

Author Note: Wow, it turns out that the Zygons are actually quite reasonable! Clara had a cameo this chapter, obviously; she'll have a bigger role later on. Also, with the posting of this chapter, the word count exceeds that of the original story by about 4 thousand words. (Though a big chunk of that 4k will be my author notes and the replies to reviews!) I think the total work count might even break 50k, depending on how much I edit the remaining chapters, and how long future author notes are!

Replies to reviews:

Wonderbee31: Thanks! Yes, the programme drastically needs less romance, it's getting very contrived, boring and repetitive.

Insanityisgood25: You hate Umbridge? Good, my plan is working! ;) Yeah, I figured that now we know who 12 is, why not put him in instead? And no, 12 will not be the Doctor in the sequel, that's still 11. 12 will be the Doctor in the DW/Hunger Games crossover that I have planned.

Katies2105: Thanks!

TracyFace3: As shown in this chapter, he has more to do with Umbridge (same goes for the next chapter too).

How can I not like Ten? Very easily, actually. There's a lot of reasons, but I think it boils down to the fact that he was too human. And don't get me started on his atrocious attitude to regeneration, not to mention the scene itself...grrr. I could very easily write an essay on why I don't like him, but I'll save that for another day.

As for David Tennant, I like him, he's an amazing actor. But despite his amazing acting abilities, I thought he didn't make a particularly good Doctor, though that's mainly the scripts' fault.

Update every day? As much as I'd like to, I can't, because, at the moment, I'm only writing about a thousand words a week! I'd be absolutely pressed for time if I had to update every day! I don't want to even think about doing it every hour! Plus, spreading it out over four days means it takes longer before it's complete and we move on to the sequel...though I'm sure that for many of you, moving on to the sequel is what you want!

Thanks for recommending the story, that means a lot!

arylos: Don't worry, I'm very well aware of that fact! And yes, I know that River technically isn't dead yet, but there's a very good reason as to why she's not the person picking 12 up...

SuOmAlAiNeN92: I've always thought that the Ministry would have got rid of Crouch's body after he had his soul sucked out. It's not like it's going to do anything now, he's in a permanent vegetative state. So yeah, they got rid of his body, hence why Umbridge didn't see him in Azkaban.

Thanks! An you think that Clara would pick up the Doctor? Interesting...

Lovesbugsalot: While I also believe that the producers will use that scene in Lets Kill Hitler to get around the 12 regeneration limit, until such a thing is confirmed as canon, I won't mention it. For all we know, River's extra regenerations simply healed him and left it at that.

Yes, this chapter and the previous one could be considered the climax of the story...the first climax, anyway. Things are about to heat up again!