A/N
The first part of this chapter originated from a number of reviews about Albus. I wanted to clarify that the Albus of this story isn't the same as in my main trilogy. He isn't bad but only over-confident. Most of all he is – slowly and painfully but nonetheless – capable of learning.
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Here comes the Cavalry (Part One)
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Malfoy Manor
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Today is the day – to make a stand, to fight a battle and to create history.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, Headmaster of Hogwarts and Leader of the Light – only he wasn't the leader any longer. For years he had dreamt of this day. For years he had planned, organized and ploted – only to find all those ideas thrown out of the window by one man and a newcomer to this world to boot.
He had envisioned this battle at the Ministry, in Diagon Alley or – with much trepidation but highly likely nonetheless – on the grounds of Hogwarts. The forces of light, united behind the Order of the Phoenix and under his command, would have fought valiantly against endless hordes of Death Eaters, Vampires, Werewolves and Giants. Dementors and Acromantulas would harass the edges of the battle field and stormy clouds would pour down rain, thunder and lightning. Perhaps one side would have been able to get a few dragons to support them. The Giant Squid would prove his true power. And he would allow Minerva to use that spell at last, activating the hundreds of stone guardians that had slumbered for centuries on the edges of Hogwarts, while endless columns of animated knight armours filled the corridors with their thunderous steps.
Nothing of this would happen. Instead of waiting for Voldemort to start the attack, staying on the defensive, Steward Cullen had decided to be the aggressor in this battle. Instead of endangering school and students alike, he wanted to choose the battle field and to force his own plan onto the enemy. Not react but act was his dogma. Not Albus but Cullen and Amelia would be in lead of the forces. He however was relegated to the role of cannon fodder, brought into place and set lose to bring havoc onto the enemy lines. And the worst part perhaps? He was content with the role. The last months brought so many new wonders, so many shocking news and insights. It was difficult to stay secure in your own opinion and self-confident when proven wrong so often.
Harry – he had been a major factor in the change Albus felt taking place in his mind. Harry's role in this war had been his greatest error perhaps. He has the power the Dark Lord knows not. Albus had been so certain that love had been the weapon the prophecy mentioned. Cullen, despite not really believing in Divination, nor being fully convinced that it had to be Harry who killed Tom, nonetheless found a weapon for Harry – a deadly weapon, traditional in its making but still unknown to Tom. Whoever had heard of sword wearing a blessing? And not some nonsense like those Catholic Priests had done for centuries when blessing the weapons of all soldiers on both sides, but a real one, a blessing perceptible by Cullen and his band of misfit squibs.
Even more important had been how he handled Harry's curse scar. Albus had done his own research in the past. He had pored over books, conversed with friends all over the world and even contacted some Curse-Breakers at Gringotts. Despite the rumours, he hadn't simply accepted the scar. But nothing had helped. Nobody had any idea on how to get rid of it. In the end he accepted it, accepted the idea of Harry having to die for the better good. In hindsight he wondered if he surrendered too early. Perhaps his subconscious had influenced his reasoning, and dampened his otherwise sharp mind. Perhaps the idea of Harry being a hopeless case had convinced him too soon to stop his research and to accept Harry's fate.
Albus had been stunned when Cullen told him about Harry's cure. It had shocked him to the core that this newcomer, this squib, had found a way to do something he – the great Albus Dumbledore – thought to be impossible. Even he wasn't above a trace of overconfidence and pride – overconfidence in his own abilities and pride in being a wizard. Cullen wasn't able to cast the smallest spell but he had been successful where Albus had given up and lost all hope. That his caretaker Argus Filch, a squib himself and depending on Albus' generosity for decades, had been a part of this solution, was even more degrading.
Now, Harry had a future again. He could live his life to the fullest; spend it with his Muggleborn girlfriend, friends and family. His dreams could come true now. In the time to come, Harry wouldn't be known as the boy-who-lived-because-of-his-mother's-sacrifice or the boy-who-conquered-and-died but as the boy who lived his life to the fullest. Cullen made it awful clear that he didn't see Harry's existence as a weapon for one single battle, but as someone who could change and influence this society as a whole. Harry, certainly with the help of Miss Granger, would drag the backward magical society into the next millennium, be it kicking and screaming.
Perhaps it's time to allow a new generation to lead us, Albus mused. He missed the years he had spent with his friend Nicholas Flamel, years spent with Alchemy and research, poring over books and discussing ideas with equally sharp minds. I've led our society for decades. I've fought in three wars. Perhaps I'm allowed to enjoy my last decades in peace. Albus stared at his withered hand. He had been convinced he would die before the school year ended. He had been prepared to give his life for the greater good. Now, Cullen hadn't only given Harry a future, but hope to Albus as well. He promised to cure the curse lingering in his hand after the battle – or at least he had promised to try and Cullen had sounded convinced that it would be possible. Hope was a fragile thing but incredible strong at the same time. The question had only been: was he willing to hope?
"Are you coming?" Severus asked surprisingly gentle. "The others are waiting."
With a thoughtful smile Albus put his tea cup down. "Certainly."
Today was the day to fight a battle.
Tomorrow will be the time to feel hope again.
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Voldemort's Lair – Private Rooms
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"Here's to you." Ophelia raised her own glass, her eyes never leaving her brother's face. She felt the small vial burning in her pocket. It had been in her possession for weeks now, actually since that disastrous battle at the Ministry. While she still loved her brother, she despised far more how he controlled her life and the choices he made, both for himself and his family. It was tradition among pureblood families for a brother to protect and control his sister, especially if as an elder. It was his right and duty to ascertain her lifestyle, her future and to get her an appropriate husband.
However, Ophelia never wanted any of this. She wanted to be free of those reigns, to control her life on her own, and make her own decisions and choices, right or wrong. She was neither especially wise nor perfect, but so wasn't her brother – or her parents. Why should she be denied to make her own errors only because she was born without a dick? Her family's wealth would allow her a few years of globetrotting before she decided what to do with her life. She was thirty-eight already, had left Hogwarts twenty years ago. And what had she to show for those years? Nothing, no experience, no education, and certainly no happiness.
The last decade had been filled with endless rows with her family, with dozens of suitors – one uglier and dumber than the next, with only this damned pureblood-machoism uniting them in their stupid advances. Her family would never allow her to accept a Half-Blood or a Muggleborn even as a fiancé, despite there being some really nice eye-candies out there, intelligent and willing to treat her like a partner and not some brood-mother or arm-appendage. Your mouth is for smiling, not speaking.
Education? An occupation? Her father would get an apoplexy only hearing about those dreams of hers. Luckily he was dead already. Now, only her brother stood in her way. She had needed him until now to protect her from the likes of Amycus Carrow and Antonin Dolohov, but not anymore.
"A votre santé!" Theodore Nott reciprocated her wish and gulped down the whiskey faster than he should, nervous as he was. He had no idea about the little extra added to his drink. Ophelia had chosen a dose that only proved lethal with some additional stress. It was her last little precaution in case the attack didn't happen. Hopefully her medical calculations had been right. In a little deviation from the widely known proverb: a Gryffindor would die for his freedom, a Slytherin would kill for it.
"See you later."
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"He's sleeping, Mistress." Fipsy greeted her when Ophelia returned to her room. Fipsy had been in her family's service since her birth, like her mother and grandmother before her. She belonged to the trio of House-Elves that were mostly used by Ophelia and not the rest of the Nott family, in her case because Theo didn't like how the tiny creature tended to speak her mind freely.
Ophelia simply nodded and examined the heavy man. Banishing an additional dose of sleeping potion into Marcus Flint's stomach, she stepped back and shortly watched him thoughtfully. She liked him well enough. Naturally she had noticed his crush on her weeks ago. Perhaps she would take him as a lover for a while, careful not to break his little heart. For her it would be simple fun, for him hopefully an experience. Both would gain from a little affair, perhaps while they cruised around the Mediterranean or the Caribbean. Ophelia liked her skin tanned a bit more than the British weather – and the old-fashioned British society customs – allowed.
In any case, she didn't want him to die. She couldn't risk acting too soon but she wanted to be prepared. Should no attack happen tonight, Marcus would awake tomorrow and certainly be a little embarrassed but none the wiser. However, should the attack happen, he would be alive afterwards. To her knowledge, Marcus had never been part of more than a bit of Muggle-harassing since accepting the mark. His part in the rescue of Andromeda should secure him some leniency from the victors as would Ophelia's influence among the moderate parts of the Ministry. At a pinch, she would have to keep him away from Great Britain for a while until everything calmed down again.
"Stay with him, Fipsy. You feel the wards around this place, yes?"
Fipsy nodded. The wards had been around the place since they arrived. They even prohibited house-elves from leaving the whole place, only allowing small jumps within the lair.
"If and when you feel the wards collapse, I want you to apparate with him to my hunting lodge in Wales. Can you do that for me?"
The tiny elf nodded, her ears flapping wildly. "But what about you, Mistress?" It was obvious how much she disliked the idea of leaving her behind.
"I will be safe," Ophelia said, more hoping to be right than actually certain. "I'll call you should I need you. But for now he is your duty. Understand?"
"Fipsy understands. Mistress can trust Fipsy."
"I know I can," Ophelia gave her a short one-armed hug. "See you later."
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"What is this?" Arriacus Carrow, one of the many maniacs produced by his family and in the Dark Lord's service like his cousins, eyed the tray warily.
"Pure poison," Ophelia answered and rolled her eyes. It wasn't like she hadn't expected his demeanour. With slight amusement she watched him perform a number of spells, hiding her real satisfaction and relief deep within. She had known the man far longer than she liked to think about. He had been, like his cousin Amycus, one of the suitors her brother Theo dragged into her house. He was even madder and crueller than Amycus but his lack of intellect and real talent had prohibited him from joining the Inner Circle – quite a feat with even Crabbe and Goyle sitting there. She had not only known that he would use spells to examine the drinks and food but also which spells. This knowledge had influenced her choice of the poisons used because her statement had been honest in the end: the drinks were poisoned; only it was a kind not traceable by your run-of-the-mill spells. Someone like Severus wouldn't fall for this but nobody had ever accused Arriacus of being especially clever.
"Satisfied?" She asked, raising a single eyebrow.
"Why are you doing this?" Arriacus asked, still wary of her reasons. The other members of his team were already itching for the tray's content. The night promised to be long and boring. Watching the lair while the Inner Circle had all the fun was nothing they especially enjoyed. Life's not easy at the bottom; the statement was equally true among the Dark Lord's followers.
"Boredom," Ophelia shrugged. "Theo is preparing for tonight and I had nothing to do," she reminded him of the fact that she wasn't allowed to the ritual as well. Yes, boredom he could understand. Ophelia smiled inwardly, guessing correctly that Arriacus hated the fact that his cousins was allowed where he wasn't welcome. With a bored wave he allowed his men to accept the drinks. "But only two glasses each. I don't want to explain to the Dark Lord why anybody is drunk."
Two glasses would be more than enough, Ophelia grinned without creasing her face. Her part was mostly done. Now she had to stay and wait. The potions would only start to do their work after an activation spell. Putting down half a dozen Death Eaters on her own would make quite an argument in her defence, or so she hoped.
Waiting it is now.
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Voldemort's Lair – Storage Room
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Four low plopping sounds announced the arrival of the assault team, as Cullen labelled their small group of Kamikaze fighters. The team members immediately let go of the hands of their Death Eaters taxi and secured the room. As hoped – and assured by Snape's spells – the room was empty and deserted. Its sole door led to one of the corridors towards the main chamber of the facility. Snape had carefully chosen the room but there was still the chance that somebody came across it at a later time. Hopefully it would be some single struggler, someone Hermione and Luna could handle on their own.
"Everybody alright?" Cullen asked and looked around, getting nods from the team members while the trio of imperioused Death Eaters calmly awaited their next orders.
In the meantime, Harry fetched his old DADA coin and tested it. As expected the message reached the corresponding coins of Luna, Hermione and Sirius. A few seconds later, he got additional messages from Amelia Bones and her squad leaders. Ben Granger, while having a coin on his own, wasn't able to send a message, but Harry knew that his future father-in-law felt better having one. "Everything alright with the messages." He told Cullen.
"Good," he sighed before giving Snape the signal for the next step. The potion master fetched three vials of Polyjuice potion from his pockets as well as three potions to reverse the effect. He added a few healing potions for good measures, as well as a Bezoar and an antivenin in case Nagini was able to bite someone. Carefully he prepared the potions with hairs from Gibbon, Goyle and Travers and offered them to Harry, Cullen and Albus. They would accompany him into the central chamber while the real Death Eaters stayed here with Sirius and Marius Black for their own little battle task.
"Everybody know their target? The course of action is clear as well as what to do 'just in case'?"
One by one everybody nodded. Cullen used the moment to embrace Luna as did Harry with Hermione. If their embraces were a tad too tight and long to be appropriate, nobody cared about it right now. "Be careful," more than one team member whispered, each of them knowing that it wouldn't really be possible to do that, especially not for Cullen's little group.
"Let's go."
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Voldemort's Lair – Main Chamber
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Harry/Travers took, as inconspicuous as possible, a few deep breaths as he entered the main chamber. Their long talks with Professor Snape hadn't actually prepared for the dark atmosphere of the room. It was overwhelming and oppressive. Harry wondered how Snape had been able to endure this for all those years without going mad. His eyes searched for Snape, his frame ramrod as he walked around. Perhaps he hadn't been able to.
Two objects dominated the whole chamber: an empty, massive and somewhat ridiculous looking throne on a two-step dais and a sacrificial stone in the middle of the room, complete with shackles and equally empty. While the quartet walked around to take the agreed-upon positions, Harry's eyes wandered around. Around twenty Death Eaters were present. One position near the throne was left empty, the other occupied by the sole death Eater without his silver mask: Antonin Dolohov. For a moment rage caused Harry's blood to pound in his ears and drowned out the voices. He wanted to kill the man who had hurt Hermione, nearly murdered her at the Ministry. A small nudge from Cullen/Gibbon brought him back to reality. Hastily he took his place, near the throne and across from Dumbledore/Goyle. Snape had told them how to act not to draw unwelcome attention to him. Hopefully it would be enough.
Snape's place was the farthest away, towards the exit. It would be his duty to get Andromeda Tonks out of the way. The danger of her being killed by a stray curse was far too great otherwise. Cullen/Gibbon was standing in the second row. Contrary to Harry and Albus, his target was at the edge of the room. His part was perhaps the most important one. Without him, Amelia's far greater forces wouldn't be able to break through the wards in time. Harry remembered that he wasn't expected to look around too much, at least not like a tourist seeing this for the first time. He concentrated on his role again, his hand fumbling for the coin. It was nearly time.
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The assembly had calmed down and now awaited the arrival of their dark master. Soft steps and a slithering noise announced him. Two junior Death Eaters were the first to leave the corridor. They took their places near the exit, wands at the ready. Next came the biggest snake Harry had ever seen, even worse looking than eighteen months ago at the graveyard. For a moment he had the feeling her eyes were resting on him. His heart pounded. She knows I'm here, his flattering nerves told him. He needed all of his self-restraint to stay in place and not to draw his wand or sword.
Despite his fear, Nagini only slithered towards the throne and curled up. Only now did Harry realize that the Dark Lord himself had arrived as well. His face was even more inhuman than four months ago. Had it really only been four months since Cullen arrived? Harry wondered. It seemed far longer. So much had happened, so much had changed, not the least important being his changed feelings towards Hermione – or at least his realizations about those feelings. Voldemort took his place and gestured the last arrivals to continue.
One of them, a slightly ill looking Death Eater with a face vaguely acquainted, stepped forward to occupy the so far empty place near the throne. Two others led a struggling but bound and gagged Andromeda Tonks to the stone slab. She looked better than expected and feared. Perhaps Snape's stories about Ophelia Nott taking care of her hadn't been exaggerated. Harry nonetheless felt the urge to rush forward and free her, but he restrained himself. He had to trust Snape to rescue her. His target was to his right, curled up and very scaly.
Soon, little snake, very soon, he promised.
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Voldemort's Lair – Storage Room
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"You'll stay here." Marius' voice was calm but firm. He had expected this to happen. Cullen had expected it, too. And his orders had been specific and crystal clear. Hermione and Luna had to stay in this room, out of the line of fire and as safe as possible. The girls understood the reasoning. They weren't the brightest witches Hogwarts had to offer for nothing. It didn't stop them from pouting. It was actually very cute to see their reactions. For once they weren't so grown up, in looks or action – at least on Hermione's part – but allowed their teenage age to shine through.
"It's safer in here." It would have been more believable if not coming from Sirius Black, Marauder-paragon and prankster-par-excellence.
"Alright, alright," Hermione agreed with a defeated sigh. Luna said nothing and simply patted her hand. Marius wasn't certain if it was a gesture of acceptance or only one of 'we'll nod now and do our thing afterwards'. Cullen wouldn't like this one bit.
"It's nearly time," Sirius changed the topic, his DADA coin in his hand, the coin that would send the signal for starting the distraction. Marius nodded, shortly glancing toward the waiting trio of Death Eaters. They would send them to their deaths in a few minutes. He hated the idea but there was no different way to separate Voldy from the bulk of his men. If they didn't cause this distraction, the quartet in the main chamber had no chance to reach their goals, no chance to survive the first minute.
Trying to distract himself, he pulled his sword from his scabbard and examined it for a last time, before he prepared his light crossbow. Hopefully he wouldn't need them, but better safe than sorry.
It's nearly time.
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DMLE standby area
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With cold eyes and barely able to suppress the disgust he was feeling, Kingsley Shacklebolt stared down onto the three beds occupied by three of his Aurors. He had trusted them, until a few weeks ago when Cullen joined them for those organized meetings. Two of them had the Dark Mark hidden under disillusion spells. The third, a senior Auror no less and a man Kingsley had formerly trusted with his life, had admitted under Veritaserum that he was working for Dolohov.
Traitors, all three of them, Kingsley sneered.
"Watch them," he commanded the duo of Aurors who would guard them until today's task was over. "Be careful, don't allow them to wake up, and don't allow anybody to see them."
They nodded calmly. Both had been hand-chosen by Amelia Bones, not only because they were trustworthy, but also because both had young children. She couldn't protect every parent under her command, but at least she could protect these two.
Kingsley left the small house in the centre of the standby area. More than fifty Aurors had gathered on the outside around a couple of bonfires. Every Auror who was battle-ready, assumed to be trustworthy, and checked by Cullen, had been ordered to this place. Another twenty were taking care of the Death Eater distraction attacks taking place tonight. Only thirty minutes ago they had been informed about the target of tonight's operation. Now they showed a mix of anticipation, fear and eagerness. Hopefully it would carry them through the night and help them stay alive.
Kingsley wasn't naïve. He expected to lose at least a dozen of them. At least the same number would be seriously hurt. They would attack a mostly unknown place. They had plans of the facility, plans the Auror teams were studying right now. However, plans were no compensation for in depth knowledge of the place. Hopefully, Voldemort's team would feel secure enough under their main wards not to put up with the inconvenience of additional defence mechanism, especially without deathly spell traps. Snape had warned them about some of them, but he still wasn't completely trusted and certainly didn't know everything about the enemy's plans.
According to Snape's guesses, the enemy forces would outnumber the DMLE task force nearly two to one. Fenrir would be there with some of his friends. At least the last full moon was a week ago, so no transformation. The Dementors, since Cullen actually destroyed some of them instead of only driving them away, had been more careful. If Snape's information was correct, they wouldn't be there tonight, at least not en masse. The Aurors had been warned furthermore about the presence of Nagini. They hoped that the assault team would take care of the snake but better be careful.
Assault team – Kingsley shuddered thinking about them. Two squibs, three teenagers, two wizards and the great Albus Dumbledore. It was sheer desperation to call them the assault team and to entrust the success of the whole operation on the result of their actions. If they weren't able to do their part, this battle would be very short-lived.
It would be a total disaster and a serious blow to the moral of our department. Kingsley sighed deeply, showing a confident smile to his troops. Curtly he nodded towards the group of supporters. Minerva McGonagall reciprocated the gesture, quickly looking up from her low conversation with Filius Flitwick, Molly Weasley and Ben Granger. Charlie and Bill Weasley were sitting a few steps away, dozing restlessly under the watchful eyes of Remus Lupin, sitting on a tree stump, and Argus Filch who took care of the fire, more to distract himself than out of necessity.
Following Amelia's wave he stepped closer to the bonfire in the middle. His boss was waiting there with the other team leaders:
Brinks – he would secure the whole area with a dozen Aurors, trying to keep away any reinforcements and to take care of any fugitives. Madam Pomfrey, Healer Prewitt and a trio of Auror medics would be with him, too.
Towers – he had the same job as Brinks, only with a smaller flying squad. Charlie Weasley would stay with him as well, on Molly's authoritative demand. Towers had accepted the help, realizing that the Weasley Matriarch didn't want to risk her second son's life if necessary. It was enough to know herself and Bill in immediate danger.
Tonks and Kingsley himself would lead two smaller teams, sweeper teams one and two, into the facility, trying to checkmate as many of the lower echelons as possible.
This left abount twenty Aurors under Amelia's leadership, together with Molly and Bill, Filius and Minerva and the – perhaps very important – presence of Ben and Argus. In the end the other four teams had only one real task: allow Amelia's assembly to break through the defences and get into the main chamber before Voldy's inner circle overwhelmed Cullen's team.
The plan is nutty, Kingsley groaned inwardly, completely nutty. But it's the only one we have. He gulped and looked up.
"I got the first message," Amelia declared hoarsely. "They're in the main chamber. Everybody at the ready. On the next signal we'll apparate into place. Teams A, K and N on standby, team T takes to the air and team B takes their positions."
"And may the Force be with you." Tonks mumbled. She shrugged and grinned sheepily as she felt more than one pair of confused eyes resting on her: "Always wanted to say that."
"Err, yes," Amelia sighed. "Let's go and kill some dunderheads."
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Voldemort's Lair – Main Chamber
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I'm not the hero in this story.
Severus Snape, youngest Hogwarts' teacher of the century, youngest potion master since even before that, Death Eater and spy extraordinaire, member of the order of the burned chicken and slave to two masters, remembered quite well the conversation he had with Harry a few weeks ago.
I tried to save her, but only her. I didn't spare a thought about you or your father. Afterwards I felt bad but only because I caused her death. Back then I still didn't fully understand the wrongness of my choices. It needed years of friendship with Minerva until I was willing to accept it. Perhaps I'm not the villain you saw in me for years anymore, Harry, but I'm not a hero either. Cullen was right: I made my choice and I have to live and die with them.
I'm not the hero in this story.
Glancing around, Snape watched his 'friends' thoughtfully, his comrades, his brothers-in-arms. He had been one of them for more than fifteen years. Tonight he would kill more than one of them; he would cause the death of even more. His plans and sketches of the facility, his information about the defences and guards, would help the Aurors breach the wards and survive the traps. In a way he was relieved to know Lucius was rotting in Azkaban. He deserved to be there for everything he had done. Still, he had been Severus' friend, had been one of the few Death Eaters treating him well and not only because he saw a useful tool in him. Becoming godfather to Draco was one of the few things Severus had really appreciated. It had been a gesture of friendship. Despite everything he didn't like about the man and what he had done to his family, Severus would have hated the idea of fighting him tonight, perhaps even having to kill Lucius Malfoy.
Mostly fading out the silly speech of his dark master, Severus concentrated on the reactions of the assembly. There had been a noticeable decline in the Dark Lord's mental sanity since the confrontation at the Ministry. There hadn't been a real plan to his course of actions anymore, nothing to connect the pieces in any rational way. Perhaps it had been a repercussion of the destroyed Horcruxes. The others noticed it too, at least the more intelligent among them. They had gotten restless and anxious, not understanding what was happening. And this ritual tonight? It was only proof that the Dark Lord continued his decline.
Severus noticed more than one of his colleagues flinch as the Dark Lord explained the nature of a Horcrux. It was meant to be a statement of his power, talent and intellect: look at me. I'm able to create more than one Horcrux. Instead it made them queasy, caused them to doubt his sanity and the moral of his actions. Severus knew the others well enough to have an educated guess which ones would have qualms about this mess. Apart from a few stupid ones – unable to grasp the meaning of a Horcrux – and a few completely mad like the Carrows, most had second thoughts… not serious enough to betray their master but still.
A few pairs of eyes were resting on Andromeda with something akin to pity. Yes, they hated blood traitors, but still she was a woman, a pureblood lady, and one of them. Wrong choices didn't change that in the end. In the end only blood counted to them. Sirius Black was a good example for that slightly weird world view. Despite everything Black had never been legally disowned and in the end it was more important to continue the Black family name than any 'political differences'.
Suddenly a motion caught Severus' eye. He turned around to have a look. There: Nagini had started to move, uncoiling and leaving her place. She was doing that thing with her tongue snakes did to enhance their sense of smell. Her eyes were resting on Harry. Had she noticed the different smell? Was she able to feel the connection? Hopefully she would…
Severus saw Harry's hand reaching for his pocket in slow motion. Now the hand was vanishing in there. Now he would clasp his fingers around the magical metal. Nagini was still watching the disguised boy. The Dark Lord was still rambling. Andromeda was still trembling in fear.
Harry felt Severus' eyes and gave him a small nod.
Attack!
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Voldemort's Lair – Storage Room
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Hermione had used the time to calm down; using one of the meditation techniques she had learned from Cullen. Luna was sitting on a table, her legs swinging and her voice filling the air with humming. Hermione had asked her friend what she had whispered into her father's ear before they departed, but got no reasonable answer from the blonde girl. According to Ben Granger's face it had been something soothing his fears. Despite him knowing about Hermione's role in the battle, and understanding that she simply needed to be here, he had opened his mouth several times to stop her, to forbid her from going. In the end he had restrained himself from doing that, partly because he realized that his daughter wouldn't obey him.
Never make her choose between Harry and you, Cullen had said to him months ago. It's possible that you wouldn't like the result.
Because of her deep thoughts, Hermione needed a few seconds to notice the change. Her coin was burning in her hand. With wide eyes she stared down.
"Hermione?" Sirius asked.
"It's okay, sweetie," Luna gave her a hug, unknowingly using the nickname Beatrice Granger often used for her daughter.
Hermione sighed. "It's time. We've got the signal."
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DMLE standby area
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"The signal," Amelia Bones' voice thundered through the small clearing around the little house. "We got the signal. Prepare yourself."
All over the area the Aurors stopped their conversations, put the letters they had written to their families away or grabbed their wands for a last-minute refresh of some protection charm.
"Thirty seconds," Kingsley yelled.
The groups gathered around their leaders in small groups, the designated 'taxis' readying their port keys. They would transport them to the area where Voldy's lair was hidden under powerful wards. Hopefully the assault team would be able to take them down; otherwise they wouldn't even find the entrance.
"Ten seconds," Kingsley yelled.
Fifty hands were put on a dozen portkeys. Fifty wands were raised. Fifty mouths mumbled something akin to "good luck."
"Go-go-go!"
Fifty plops could be heard; then there was only silence and emptiness, the crackling of a handful of bonfires all that was left behind.
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A/N
This chapter got a bit shorter but the whole fight would be too long for one chapter and this was the only reasonable moment for a cut.
See you in a few days. If all goes as planned, I'll publish the battle within the next 2-3 days.