CHAPTER 9: THE DARK LORD'S CHALLENGE
As the battlefield quieted, Harry allowed himself a brief moment of relief. The threat had been contained, but the battle was far from won. He scanned the area, ensuring no stragglers remained, before turning to Peter with a nod of acknowledgment.
"We did it," Harry said, his voice low but filled with determination.
"We did," Peter agreed, breathing heavily but wearing a satisfied smile.
Their victory was tempered by the toll of battle—scorched earth, lingering curses, and wounded comrades. But amidst the aftermath, there was a palpable sense of solidarity and resolve among those who had stood against the darkness.
"We should check on Daphne and Astoria," Harry suggested, concern flickering in his eyes as he thought of the Greengrass sisters.
Peter nodded, his expression softening with paternal concern. Together, they retraced their steps, returning to the safety of the manor where the Greengrass family awaited, their future now intertwined with the bonds forged in battle.
Harry spotted Tonks just as her partner's shield faltered, a Bone-Crusher curse sending him crashing down. Before Harry could react, a Lacerating Curse tore through Tonks' shoulder. Acting swiftly, Harry conjured an Egyptian shield to cover her and turned his attention back to the remaining Death Eaters. Meanwhile, Peter hadn't hesitated, launching curses furiously from their advantageous position at the side. The Death Eaters, caught off guard by the renewed assault from Greengrass Manor, fell quickly. There were only five left, and a thin smile crept across Harry's face as he recognized a silver arm among them—Pettigrew. The traitor was clutching his Dark Mark, seemingly communicating with it.
A sudden cold chill breezed through the air, accompanied by a sharp pop as someone Apparated in. The atmosphere thickened with a potent magical aura settling around them. Harry's heart sank as he recognized the figure—Lord Voldemort, in the flesh. Pale and serpent-like, his slitted nostrils flared in fury as he wasted no time, immediately unleashing powerful curses with chilling efficiency. The garden statues, normally dormant, came to life at his command—snakes and griffins animated with dark magic. The very ground beneath their feet trembled and rose, forming golems made of soil that lumbered forward with menacing intent.
A whip of pure, searing flame lashed out towards Harry and Peter. Acting on sheer instinct, Harry summoned the heavy oak doors of Greengrass Manor to shield them just in time. The flames licked at the door's surface, sending sparks flying as the wood groaned under the assault.
"My, my, what a shame," Voldemort's cold voice cut through the chaos, disdain dripping from every word. "My followers have grown rusty over the years, struggling so with mere Aurors."
Voldemort's red eyes flickered with surprise as they locked onto Harry's own. "And Harry Potter," he continued, his tone betraying a hint of genuine interest. "What a pleasant surprise."
Harry's grip tightened on his wand, his mind racing as he assessed their dire situation. Voldemort was a force unlike any they had faced before—a master of dark magic with centuries of knowledge and a ruthless determination to eradicate any who stood in his path.
"We need to hold him off," Harry muttered to Peter, his voice low but resolute. "We can't let him get inside the manor."
Peter nodded grimly, his face pale but determined. Together, they braced themselves, facing Voldemort and his advancing legion of animated creatures. Spells collided in the air, the clash of magic echoing across the once-tranquil grounds of Greengrass Manor.
With each passing moment, Voldemort's fury seemed to intensify, his spells growing more potent and deadly. Harry focused on defense, erecting shields and countering curses with precision. Beside him, Peter fought valiantly, his wand a blur as he unleashed spell after spell in a desperate bid to protect his family and their home.
"We can't keep this up forever," Harry thought grimly, his chest tightening with each narrow escape from Voldemort's wrath. The air crackled with dark energy, the very essence of Voldemort's malevolence casting a shadow over the battlefield.
A sudden movement caught Harry's attention—a golem of earth and rock lunging towards them. With a quick flick of his wand, Harry sent a blasting curse towards its feet, causing it to stumble and collapse into a heap of rubble. But for every creature they managed to disable, another took its place, driven by Voldemort's relentless onslaught.
"We need a plan," Harry shouted over the din, his voice barely audible amidst the chaos.
Peter nodded, his eyes darting around as he calculated their dwindling options. "We can't face him head-on," he replied, his voice strained but determined. "We need to disrupt his focus."
As if on cue, a surge of determination flooded Harry. He scanned the battlefield, searching for any weakness, any opportunity to gain the upper hand against the dark wizard who had haunted his nightmares for so long.
"Expulso!" Peter's voice rang out, accompanied by a powerful explosion that rocked the ground beneath them. A statue toppled over, momentarily halting the advance of a group of animated creatures.
Harry seized the moment, his mind racing with possibilities. "Confringo!" he shouted, aiming his spell at the ground beneath Voldemort's feet. The explosion sent shockwaves through the air, throwing Voldemort off balance for a split second.
"Now!" Harry yelled, seizing the opportunity. With a surge of determination, he launched a series of spells aimed at disrupting Voldemort's concentration—Binding Charms, Distracting Hexes, anything to buy them precious seconds.
Voldemort staggered, his expression darkening with rage as he fought to regain his footing. But Harry and Peter pressed their advantage, their spells working in tandem to create a temporary barrier between them and the dark lord.
"We need to keep him busy," Harry said through gritted teeth, his heart pounding in his chest as he exchanged a glance with Peter. "If we can just hold out..."
But even as he spoke, Harry knew that facing Voldemort was a battle of attrition they couldn't afford to lose. The dark wizard's power was immense, his determination unwavering. As spells continued to fly, the outcome of their struggle hung in the balance—a testament to the courage and resilience of those who dared to stand against the greatest evil of their time.
Harry didn't waste a moment replying to Voldemort, too focused on directing his conjured snakes through the dense grass, keeping them hidden from Voldemort's sight. He hurled Bone-Crusher curses towards Voldemort, aiming to distract and test his adversary's defenses. Meanwhile, the Aurors systematically dealt with the animated statues and earth golems that Voldemort had summoned into battle.
Voldemort deflected Harry's curses effortlessly, as if gauging Harry's strength. Harry chose to evade rather than engage in a direct spell-deflecting contest. He knew the art of spell-deflection well enough from his studies, but this wasn't the time to test his prowess. His mind raced with strategies, cautious not to reveal too much to Voldemort—particularly his possession of Tom Riddle's memories—but equally determined to survive the deadly encounter.
Thinking quickly, Harry muttered a spell under his breath. "Morsmorde." The Dark Mark soared into the sky, a chilling beacon amidst the darkness. Yet, this was not Voldemort's Dark Mark but a twisted version—a dead skull flattened by a lightning bolt, the mark of Harry Potter, a symbol known across the wizarding world, from admirers to adversaries alike.
Voldemort looked up and chuckled darkly. "Oh, Harry. Is this what you've been preoccupied with? Symbolism?"
"Not just symbolism," Harry replied calmly, meeting Voldemort's gaze with unwavering determination. "I've also been conversing with snakes."
Voldemort's eyes widened in realization, but before he could react, it was too late. The conjured snakes slithered forward with lethal intent, striking at the Death Eaters cowering behind Voldemort. Harry felt a surge of satisfaction as he heard Pettigrew's unmistakable squeal of pain.
"You fools!" Voldemort roared, turning abruptly. He conjured a portkey in desperation, aiming to whisk himself and his remaining followers away from the battlefield. But that split-second distraction cost him dearly.
The Aurors swiftly dispatched the last of Voldemort's golems, clearing the way for Harry and Peter to launch a barrage of curses and hexes. Voldemort found himself isolated, his fury palpable as he faced the combined might of his adversaries.
With a snarl of frustration, Voldemort fought ferociously, his spells crackling with dark energy. But against the united front of Harry, Peter, and the Aurors, his defenses began to falter. Piece by piece, his carefully orchestrated assault unraveled.
Realizing his imminent defeat, Voldemort's red eyes burned with hatred and fury. "You cannot win," he spat, his voice a mixture of rage and disbelief.
Harry stepped forward, his own voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. "We already have," he countered, his wand poised and steady.
With a final surge of magical force, Voldemort unleashed a torrent of curses. But the combined efforts of Harry and his allies proved too much. A well-aimed Stunning Spell from an Auror struck true, and Voldemort staggered, his wand slipping from his grasp.
Silence fell over the battlefield, broken only by the heavy breathing of those who had fought valiantly against the darkest of wizards. Voldemort's defeat hung in the air, a victory hard-won through courage, unity, and unwavering resolve.
As Aurors moved forward to secure Voldemort and his followers, Harry exchanged a weary but relieved glance with Peter. They had faced the ultimate evil and emerged victorious, their bond forged in battle stronger than ever.
"We did it," Harry murmured, the weight of their victory settling in as he surveyed the aftermath of the conflict.
Peter nodded solemnly, a mixture of exhaustion and pride etched on his features. "Yes, we did," he agreed, his voice hoarse but determined.
Together, they turned to the Aurors, ready to assist in the aftermath of the battle and ensure that Voldemort's reign of terror truly came to an end.
"Enjoy your petty victory, Peter Greengrass. Cross Lord Voldemort and we will come for you, your wife, your daughters. Can you protect them when it matters?" Voldemort's taunting voice echoed across the battlefield moments before he apparated away.
"Damn," Harry spat blood to the side as Voldemort disappeared. Peter, despite the tension, managed a laugh and clapped Harry on the shoulder. "Good fighting, Potter."
"You too," Harry replied, nodding gratefully.
Amelia Bones staggered over, her exhaustion evident despite being unharmed. Sweat caused strands of hair to stick to her face as she addressed them. "Good work, my Lord. Lord Greengrass—Peter, I presume your family is safe?" At Peter's confirming nod, she continued briskly, "Good. Lord Potter, I'd like to continue our conversation and take a look at that wound."
"I'll meet you back at the manor," Harry agreed, watching as Amelia vanished with a soft pop.
"Come back for dinner, when you get time, Harry. We have much to discuss in the way of business. My wife will cook a fine feast, and then we'll share a bottle of something finer than Ogden can dream of," Peter invited warmly.
"Sounds good. Give my best to your wife and daughters," Harry replied sincerely.
"I will," Peter promised before Harry Disapparated, spotting an approaching Auror, looking rather sour.
The familiar sensation of Apparition wobbled as Harry arrived unsteadily in Amelia's office. He stumbled slightly and was caught by a concerned-looking Susan and Hannah.
"Are you okay? Auntie wouldn't tell us anything. Is Daphne okay? And Tori?" Susan's worry spilled out in a rush of questions.
Amelia chuckled softly. "I was just waiting for the hero of the hour. They're both fine, thanks to Lord Potter here."
"Call me Harry, please," he interjected with a small smile, relieved to see Susan and Hannah looking concerned yet reassured.
Susan nodded, her expression softening. "Harry, thank you. We heard about the attack. We were so worried."
Hannah stepped forward, her concern palpable. "You look exhausted. Let's get you seated."
Amelia gestured towards a chair, her demeanor shifting to professional concern. "Sit down, Harry. I'll take a look at that wound."
As Harry settled into the chair, he couldn't help but feel a wave of gratitude for the support and concern from Amelia, Susan, and Hannah. Despite the lingering threat of Voldemort's words, for now, they were safe, and Harry found solace in the strength of their bond and determination to protect each other.
"Harry, then. Call me Amelia. I've not seen fighting like that since Moody himself. And to duel Voldemort, even for a few seconds - most impressive," Amelia said, her tone respectful and genuine.
"You fought Voldemort?" Hannah gasped, her eyes wide with a mix of awe and concern.
"It's nothing. It was barely a fight," Harry replied honestly, downplaying his role in the confrontation. "But girls, be careful with the shoulder," he added, wincing as Hannah's sudden movement caused him pain, her eyes welling with tears.
"What can we do?" Susan asked, her fists clenched in frustration.
"Perhaps, if Amelia thinks it isn't improper, you could run me a bath," Harry suggested, a faint idea taking shape in his mind. He glanced down at the ground, invoking the image of a lonely orphan in need of care. "Sorry," he added softly, his voice carrying a hint of vulnerability. "I don't have anywhere else to go."
"Wilma?" Amelia called, and a house elf popped into view immediately. "Run a bath, please, in the master bathroom," she instructed efficiently. "Hannah, you might find some of my late husband's clothes in my room. In the meantime, I need to return to the Ministry to file a report. This is going to be a bureaucratic nightmare. We managed to capture a few Death Eaters. How did you fare?" Amelia asked, her concern evident as she prepared to depart.
Harry nodded gratefully. "Thank you, Amelia. And thank you both," he said sincerely to Susan and Hannah. "I'll fill you in on the details once I've had a chance to clean up."
As Amelia hurried off to attend to Ministry business, Harry turned his attention back to Susan and Hannah, feeling a wave of gratitude for their concern and support. He knew they were about to embark on a challenging path, but for now, the immediate care and comfort they offered were exactly what he needed.
"Three dead, one knocked out, one maybe dead, maybe alive," Harry recounted grimly, his thoughts briefly touching on the weight of the chandelier he had brought crashing down.
"Good work," Amelia acknowledged with a sigh of relief. "If we'd lost the Greengrasses tonight, it would have been a heavy blow, possibly pushing some of the neutral clans towards the Dark side. Instead, this will force them to join our cause, with no other viable option."
Running a hand through her hair, Amelia suddenly looked weary beyond her years. "I... to be frank, I don't know how to react to you. Everything you do should be impossible, considering your age."
"They've been saying that about Harry since he started at Hogwarts, Auntie," Susan interjected with a watery giggle, still emotional from the recent events.
"Really?" Amelia frowned thoughtfully. "Perhaps I should have paid closer attention to Hogwarts and your stories, Susan. I've been too consumed by work."
Harry offered her a soft smile. "I'd like to share some of those stories with you, when you have the time. I believe you'll find them quite enlightening, and I suspect you could leverage that knowledge for great good."
Amelia nodded, considering his offer seriously. "I suspect so. Take care, rest easy. We have plenty of guest rooms."
"I'll leave after my bath," Harry decided, his tone indicating his intention to adhere to proper etiquette. "I wouldn't want to impose, and I do have a place to stay."
With that, he left Amelia's office, a sense of gratitude mingled with weariness as he prepared to clean up and rest after the tumultuous night's events.
"As you wish," Amelia replied, turning her attention to Susan and Hannah, who couldn't hide their admiration as they eyed Harry's ripped and gouged shirt. "Girls, please behave properly. Lord Potter is exactly that. I shouldn't leave two teenage girls alone with a boy, but I don't have much of a choice."
"Yes, Auntie," Hannah echoed dutifully. The two girls took Harry gently by the arm and led him to the luxurious bathroom as Amelia disappeared with a soft pop.
The bathroom was indeed ornate, with a large tub already filling with steaming water that infused the air with warmth and moisture.
"Do you want something to drink, Harry?" Susan asked, adjusting the taps with a slight blush on her cheeks.
Harry couldn't help but smirk, despite the pain throbbing in his shoulder. Alone in a steamy bathroom with two admiring Hufflepuffs—well, he thought to himself, if life gives you lemons…
"Lemonade, please," he said with a grin.
"Coming right up," Susan replied with a shy smile, her cheeks still tinged pink as she hurried off to fetch the drink.
Alone with Hannah now, Harry settled into the inviting warmth of the tub, feeling the tension in his muscles begin to ease. The events of the night had taken their toll, and he welcomed the chance to relax, if only briefly.
Hannah lingered by the door, casting occasional glances his way, clearly unsure how to proceed in this unusual situation.
"You can come in, Hannah," Harry said gently, breaking the silence. "I appreciate you both looking after me."
Hannah hesitated for a moment before stepping closer, still keeping a respectful distance. "Is there anything else we can do for you, Harry? Do you need any potions or spells for the pain?"
Harry shook his head slightly, a small smile playing on his lips. "I'm alright for now, thank you. Just having some time to soak in this bath will do wonders."
Susan returned then, holding a glass of lemonade which she handed to Harry with a bashful smile. "Here you go, Harry."
"Thanks, Susan," Harry replied warmly, taking a sip of the refreshing drink. He glanced between the two girls, noticing their nervousness and genuine concern for him. Despite the circumstances, he felt a sense of comfort in their presence.
"Tell me, Susan, Hannah," Harry began, leaning back against the tub, "what's been happening at Hogwarts since I left? Any interesting developments?"
The girls exchanged a glance, visibly relaxing as they settled into conversation with Harry, sharing stories and updates from the school they all once attended. As they talked, Harry found himself grateful for their company and the distraction from the weight of recent events.
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