James stared hard at the parchment clutched in his hand while his other was curled into a fist atop his desk; mere moments ago, Sirius had come bursting into James' office as James was reading through another tedious bill that was set to go to the Wizengamot for voting. James knew he could have had one of his secretaries do this, but he preferred to do it himself to ensure that nothing was slipped into the bill without him noticing; that had been attempted twice so far by persons unknown.
A jape had been on the tip of James' tongue before he noticed how pale Sirius looked, and James knew instantly that something was very wrong, but before he could ask what it was, however, Sirius had shoved a roll of parchment into James' hands.
"Where did you get this?" James asked in a deadly calm voice, having read it three times before speaking,
"Some mad little elf suddenly apparated on top of my desk while I was doing some reports and nearly gave me a heart attack!" Sirius quickly replied, "Shoved that scroll into my hand and disapparated again before I could say a word!"
"Did you recognize it?" James demanded, "Could you tell who it belonged to?"
"No, I'm sorry. The cheeky bugger vanished too fast for me to get a good look,"
"You think it's genuine?" James asked,
"We can't take the chance!" Sirius replied at once, "You remember the night we caught Bellatrix, just as I do! Voldemort cannot be allowed to take her back!"
James scowled at that as memories of that night slammed into him with all the force of a charging Cerberus.
James had only been an Auror for two years by that point, but had built a fierce reputation alongside Sirius as a warrior who would not flinch under fire; it had been why the two of them had been chosen to join the group that was being sent to kill or capture that last of Voldemort's followers.
Forty Aurors had attacked Lestrange manor, led by Alastor Moody, a living legend at the time, and only twelve had come back; the group had been expecting a small pocket of resistance, considering that most of Voldemort's followers had fled to the winds after the man himself had lost his powers. What they'd found instead was almost two dozen Death Eaters all under the leadership of Bellatrix Lestrange; unfortunately, the Aurors had stumbled upon them while Bellatrix was whipping them all into a frenzy, giving a manic speech bout how while Voldemort may be gone, his followers had a sacred duty to continue his noble work. The fight had been long and bloody, and James was not ashamed to admit that he had never been more terrified in his entire life than he was then. Bellatrix Lestrange had fought like a woman possessed, and two dozen Aurors fell to her wand, alone, never mind how many fell to the rest of her band of demented followers.
More than once, James had escaped death by mere inches as the witch hurled the darkest curses that James had ever seen, like Morgana reborn. It had been a hard-fought battle, and no Auror survived that night without some form of injury; Mad-Eye had lost his leg, while Sirius had suffered horrible burns to his back, which even today caused him to be very embarrassed to be seen without his shirt. When it was finally over, Lestrange manor was a burning ruin, and only six of the Death Eaters were left alive; seeing Bellatrix Lestrange kneeling unarmed, her arms bound behind her back amidst the bodies of men and women who had once been his friends, James had been almost consumed by an all-powerful urge to end the witch once and for all. That urge had only grown as Bellatrix began to cackle and taunt the survivors about their losses. Several of the surviving Aurors had raised their wands at her, the tips growing killing curse green as the words danced on the tips of their tongues.
It had only been by Mad-Eye's intervention, lying against a nearby tree, his missing leg bleeding profusely, that had saved Bellatrix. He alone had seen through her madness, seen her desperation to die so as to not be forced to live in a world where her master was no longer the all-powerful Dark Lord that she had all but worshipped. As the Aurors stared down at the raging and spitting witch, they could see the truth in their commander's eyes and gradually lowered their wands, causing the crazed witch's ranting to increase to near-apoplectic levels.
Finally, Sirius had decided that enough was enough and stunned the raving lunatic; reinforcements had soon come, and the survivors had quickly found themselves either in a bed at Saint Mungo's or a cell in Azkaban awaiting trial. Unsurprisingly, Bellatrix, her husband, and all the Death Eaters who had survived the battle were sentenced to life without the possibility of parole; many had demanded that they all be shoved through the veil, but Moody had stood in the center of the Wizengamot, still wrapped in bandages from his wounds, and leaning heavily on a wooden crutch, and argued that killing Bellatrix would be counterproductive because death was the very thing she wanted most.
A better punishment would be to lock her and all her compatriots in the deepest hole that Azkaban had to offer and let them rot surrounded by monsters even worse than they.
The last time that James had seen Bellatrix, she had been screaming at the Wizengamot that Azkaban would not be able to hold her, that she would escape and return to kill them all.
"You're right," James admitted, "Voldemort cannot be allowed to retrieve his chief lieutenant. Sound the alarm, round up as many Aurors as you can muster, we leave for Azkaban within the hour, and Padfoot? Make sure that everyone knows what we will be facing tonight… I don't want anyone trying to act like a hero, this will be a battle that very few will have fought in."
"We?" Sirius replied with surprise, "You're planning to go as well? You can't really expect to go along!"
"And why not?" James demanded, rising angrily to his feet,
"Because you're the bloody Minister, that's why!"
"And what kind of Minister will I be if I send others to fight and die, while I hide here!" James demanded,
"I understand what you're saying, James. Believe me, I do, but you're the leader of our country! You can't just go off into a battle! You're needed here!"
"I'm going, Padfoot," James said firmly, "And nothing you can say will deter me."
Sirius opened his mouth to argue but must have seen something dangerous in James' eye, for he simply grit his teeth and growled out, "Understood. Should I send an owl to Dumbledore?"
James sat back down, steepled his fingers at that, and took a deep breath in thought before a scowl came across his features.
"Yes, we will need him if we're to survive Voldemort. But make sure that Dumbledore understands that we will not be taking prisoners, his way of fighting a war is ineffectual and will just get more people killed, as far as I'm concerned. Tonight, we put Voldemort down once and for all."
Sirius just grinned at his friend, a cruel grin that promised death to all those who would bring harm to his family and friends; with a quick nod, Sirius turned and exited the office, leaving a weary James behind. With a sigh, James stood and walked to the fire, staring at the flames; should he call Lily?
No.
If he made that call, James feared his courage would fail him, and he wouldn't be able to say goodbye. As James leaned against the mantle and stared into the fire, he thought of his children.
Harry had come so far from the scared little boy who had suddenly appeared in his and Lily's lives, and with him, he'd brought new life into James and Lily's lives; even Rose had blossomed in ways that only those who had known her for a long time could see. He was so bloody proud of them that sometimes he thought his heart would burst from it.
James had done everything in his power the last year to make a better world for his children. In this world, no child ever need fear being treated as 'less than' for no other reason than antiquated views that somehow ones blood determined their worth. Tonight could very well be his last night on earth, but if fate demanded that James give up his life as payment to ensure that Voldemort was once and for all put down like the mad dog he was, then it was a price that James was willing to pay.
XXXX
Voldemort smiled cruelly as he gazed at the men and women surrounding him; their fear was practically palpable, and Voldemort gloried in it, drinking in his followers terror like an alcoholic drowning themselves in their vice of choice. Only three dozen had come when Lucius had put out the call, the remainder had either ignored the summons or been too cowardly to return to their lord, most likely expecting to be punished for abandoning their master. No matter, after tonight, Voldemort would have his most powerful killer returned to him, and then? Then, he would make all those who had forgotten their oaths of loyalty pay in blood.
As his followers gazed at him, he could feel their fear rising with each passing second, his physical transformation after weeks of draining mudbloods of their magic had been severe, even Voldemort had to admit that, loathe though he was to accept it. But even as the thought crossed his mind, he angrily batted it away; what use was physical attraction when compared to absolute power?!
"My friends…" Voldemort hisses, his forked tongue tasting the air and making more than one robed figure take a step back in anxiety, "So glad am I to see you all returning to my service. It saves me the time of hunting you all down, like I was forced to do to Crabe, MacNair, Wilkes, and Avery."
Several of his followers shared looks of horror as they realized that the horrible murders that had been occurring had been Voldemort punishing those who had betrayed him; Voldemort saw this and grinned, showing his long fangs that gleamed white, almost vampiric.
"While I do wish more of your brethren were here, we must make do with what we have," Voldemort hissed, his tongue darting out again, "We have important work to do, tonight."
"Doing what, my lord?" An unfortunate Death Eater asked, only to receive a Crucio as a reply that lasted for several seconds in which her screams echoed throughout the hall,
"Never interrupt me, Carrow…" Voldemort hissed, gazing down at the twitching form of his follower, with contempt. "Now, as I was saying… Tonight, we will attack Azkaban and free my most loyal followers, as well as secure the loyalty of the Dementor guards. When I offer them the souls of all the muggles of England, they will swarm to our side en masse!"
"But… my lord…" Another Death Eater replied softly, "How can we possibly attack Azkaban? We are too few for such a battle…"
"Ah, that is where you are wrong, Goyle…" Voldemort smiled, "My powers have doubled since my fall, I am more powerful than I have ever been! Together, we will raze Azkaban to the ground, and with its destruction we will let the world know that I have returned! Tonight, our war begins anew!"
As the Death Eaters screamed and cheered, only one refrained; Lucius leaned against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest and his eyes narrowed as he watched the others scream insensibly, only one thought running through his mind.
"Please, mother magic, let James Potter have gotten my message…"
XXXX
James stared out at the Aurors before him, his back straight as he gazed at each one, trying to memorize their faces; many of them would not be coming back tonight, and he was determined to commit every face to memory. Fifty men and women stood before him, each wearing the blood red robes of an Auror; each had a look of fierce determination, and though a few trembled slightly, none looked ready to run.
"I'm sure that Auror Black has already told you what to expect," James said softly, though his voice echoed around the chamber, "You know your duty, and you know what is waiting for you, tonight. I won't lie to you, this isn't some back-alley skirmish that we'll be facing but a full-scale battle, and the one we'll be facing is Voldemort."
James sighed softly, running his hand across the three scars on his face as he watched the men and women pale at the acknowledgment that the Dark Lord had indeed returned.
"I could order you all to fight, as your Minister," James said before sighing, his shoulders slumping, "But I don't want to do that, I know how terrified many of you are because I feel the same. The one we'll be facing tonight isn't a man, he's a monster. I won't lie to you, I need your help, tonight. If we lose, and Voldemort manages to regain his most powerful followers, let alone manages to recruit the Dementors of Azkaban, there is a very real chance that our world will fall. We are all that is left to stop that from happening. But I won't force any of you to fight, so any who wish to step away, now is your chance to do so. No dishonor with fall on you should you wish to go home to your families, rather than stay and fight."
The Aurors facing him stared in shock as James gave them the opportunity to go home without facing punishment; for several long seconds, James stood and stared at them, his hands clasped tight behind his back while Sirius and Mad-Eye stood on either side of him.
After nearly a minute had passed, one lone Auror stepped forward, and James stared at her with a raised brow; she was young, barely twenty, with long black hair and cool brown eyes, with a splash of freckles across her face, giving her an almost mask-like appearance.
"Minister, if what you say is true and HE has returned, how can we possibly turn and run? We would be condemning our families, our children to horrors that can be scarcely imagined. I don't know what anyone else will do, but I will stand with you. Until the end."
Another Auror strode forward a moment later, then another, and another, until all fifty were standing before James, backs straight and looks of determination across every face; James couldn't help but smile as his chest filled with pride at the bravery of these men and women, these were who England should belong to, those willing to stand up, even when every instinct was telling them to run.
"No Minister was ever more proud of his people," James said softly, watching as several Aurors turned red with embarrassment; far more, however, stood straighter under the words of pride that their leader had just given them.
"Let us go, then" James said in a firm voice, "Let us face our destiny together, for good or for ill. Tonight, Voldemort's war ends, once and for all!"
The hall echoed with the screams and cheers of a thousand voices as James turned and strode toward the exit, his Aurors stepping behind him, every one of them ready to die for him. James couldn't help but swallow down his sadness as he realized that, unfortunately, many would.
XXXX
Author's Note:
We're getting close to the end, maybe a dozen more chapters and this story will complete. Next time, a battle that I have been planning for some time, it won't be Voldemort's end as I plan to include him in one final battle, but he will lose a lot of his followers.
Hope you enjoy this chapter, and if not, let me know what you think I can do better.