Chapter 34 : New Year's Showdown, Pt. 2

I do not own Harry Potter

Author's Notes:

1) And another one bites the dust. I've taken some liberties with technical advancements, but honestly ward-stones and magical charges don't seem too outlandish to me, not in the least by this forum's standards.

2) I tried genuinely hard this chapter. While I personally enjoyed writing it, I'd to like to know on if this is something you'd like to see more of down the line, particularly with the multiple POVs experiment.

3) You might want to consider watching the finale to the second Fantastic Beasts movie to get an idea of what goes towards the end.

Enjoy!

Previously

Sirius and Remus remained hidden in their concealed vantage point, their eyes fixed on the event unfolding inside the hotel. Laughter and chatter filled the air, the atmosphere seemingly festive despite the undercurrent of tension that Sirius could feel.

The lights shimmered, and laughter filled the air as guests mingled inside the protected party area. They watched and waited, hearts pounding with anticipation.

Time passed slowly, but the night remained uneventful. The wards held strong, and no signs of trouble arose...

And then, the moment arrived. A sudden, invisible detonation shattered the previously serene environment, the shockwave visibly rippling even from their distant vantage point.

The ensuing chaos was a whirlwind of smoke, flashes of spellfire, and the distant echoes of magical clashes. Sirius squinted through the tumult, straining to glean any pertinent details. Amidst the chaos, figures darted swiftly, casting spells upon unsuspecting guests.

"Remus, we can't just stand here," urged the animagus, his mind racing.

"But what can we do? Breaking through the protective wards is nearly impossible."

The former Auror furrowed his brow, deep in thought. And then, a realization struck him— "Moony, I think we're already inside their wards."

Confusion shadowed Remus' features. "What do you mean?"

"I mean, the attack is unfolding within an entirely new set of wards, that's why we heard the force but didn't actually see anything" Sirius explained. "I can sense the magic around us, its faint but definite."

Padfoot cast a ward detection spell. A faint shimmer materialized a few feet away—a nearly invisible energy barrier. Definitive proof that they were ensconced within the protective enchantments.

"They've employed a wardstone," Sirius stated as he examined the energy signature of the ward.

"A wardstone?" echoed Remus

"Yes," confirmed the Marauder. "It's the only way they could create such a massive ward network. Even the most accomplished Dark wizards couldn't erect something this extensive... we can't even walk out without disabling it first if I'm reading this right."

Their focus shifted as a new scene unfolded. A group of the private security personnel attempted to regroup, determination etched upon their faces. But their resolve was quickly shattered as the Death Eaters launched a swift, perfectly executed ambush. The element of surprise worked in their favor, allowing them to incapacitate the guards with chilling efficiency.

Sirius frowned as he witnessed the seamless attack. 'Moony, did you see that? That ambush was planned too fast!'

Remus' gaze narrowed as he observed the unfolding drama. The ambush split into two groups—one veering off to the right, while the other descended upon the main ballroom. "And not just that. They had precise intelligence on the primary gathering area. Their knowledge of the security apparatus is extensive."

Sirius clenched his fists in frustration. "They knew what to expect"

"Except us," The DADA Professor turned to him. "No one suspects us being here. We should be fine as long as we move around quietly,"

The animagus thought quickly, weighing their options. "We have two choices. One, we could try to open a hole in the ward and get out to call for assistance. But that could take too long, and with their numbers, they could easily spare multiple men to suppress any attempts to breach the ward."

Remus considered the option before shaking his head. 'Too risky. What's the other option?'

"We could cast heatseeking spells," the Marauder suggested. "Find the runestone maintaining the ward"

'If we take out the runestone, we could dismantle the ward at its source.' inferred the Professor

'Exactly,' Sirius agreed. 'It's risky too, but it's our best shot.'

"We can't waste any more time. Let's go."

"You go for the ward," proposed Sirius "I need to look for Harry. He's my priority."

Remus opened his mouth to protest, but then nodded, understanding Padfoot's determination to protect his godson. "Alright. But be extra careful no one recognized you"

"I'll bet the group that moved away is heading toward where the kids are." Sirius whispered his thoughts, concern etched on his demeanor "They must've settled on the location only recently."

Remus nodded again, understanding Sirius' reasoning. "Given the lack of time to plan, that would be the logical explanation."

After a moment's hesitation, the werewolf faded into the shadows, leaving Sirius to his mission. The animagus ensured his anonymity by first disguising his appearance before enacting a Disillusionment Charm. With a plan forming in his mind, he focused on finding the quickest route to his destination.

Inside the Main Hall

Slowly, Tonks began to regain consciousness, her senses swimming back into focus. The world around her was a blur of confusion and disorientation. The last memory she could grasp was a scolding from her mother for her tardiness to such an important occasion.

Her head throbbed, and a high-pitched ringing filled her ears, muffling the sounds around her. Blinking rapidly, she struggled to make sense of her surroundings.

"Tonks, come on, get up!" whispers reached her, followed by the insistent shaking of her shoulder. "Tonks!" the voice repeated, its urgency cutting through her haze.

The fog in her mind gradually lifted, and as awareness returned, she found herself meeting the concerned gaze of Bill Weasley. He crouched beside her, his expression marked by worry.

"We're under attack," Bill's tense voice informed her.

Pushing herself into a sitting position, the dizziness began to ebb. Chaos had enveloped the room, panic spreading like wildfire. People attempted to apparate or activate portkeys for escape, but their efforts met with failure.

New protective wards had sealed the exits, leaving them all trapped inside.

"We're cornered," observed Bill "They've sealed off all the exits."

Tonks' Auror training kicked in, suppressing any panic. She took a deep breath, her determination overriding the fear. Pushing herself to her feet, she retrieved her wand with a firm grip.

Dora scanned the room. Ahead of them, the security detail members were already engaged in combat with the intruders. Closer were Ron and Hermione who stood with Bill; she'd just noticed them.

"Ron, Hermione," she said, her voice steady and reassuring. "Don't worry, we'll protect you."

As the Auror surveyed the scene, her gaze caught Madam Bones and Rufus Scrimgeour at the entrance, battling the invaders head-on.

"We need to get to Bones and Scrimgeour," Tonks urgently relayed to Bill, her eyes focused on the duo. "They can help us organize a defense."

Guided by determination and protective instincts, the quartet navigated the chaotic environment, Bill and Tonks shieldingly guiding Ron and Hermione.

Moving with urgency, they darted through the turmoil, reaching the figures of Madam Amelia Bones, the Director of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, and Rufus Scrimgeour, the Head Auror. Both were fully immersed in combat against the Death Eaters.

"Director Bones, Head Auror Scrimgeour," Tonks addressed them, her tone unwavering despite the chaos.

"PFC Tonks," Amelia acknowledged, briefly ducking back into cover. "Good to have you here."

"What's the plan, Ma'am?"

"Our immediate focus is regrouping and mounting a defense."

Scrimgeour nodded in agreement. "I'll rally any Aurors present. We fight back."

"Have you tried a Patronus for messaging?" Madam Bones inquired.

Scrimgeour's voice was tinged with frustration as he replied, "No luck, Ma'am. These are powerful wards we're dealing with."

The hushed planning was cut short by yet another detonation rending the air. A section of the wall erupted in a shower of debris, catching them off guard. Before they could react, spells erupted through the breach, targeting their exposed positions.

Instinct propelled Tonks into action as she sought cover, her heart racing. Spells collided in a tumultuous cacophony, the battle's intensity escalating. Taking refuge behind fallen furniture, she clung to her wand and peered out from her makeshift shield.

"Return fire!" Tonks's command pierced the chaos, her voice rising above the tumult. "Hold them off!"

"This way," a hushed voice broke the tense air.

A stout figure emerged, one of the guards from the security detail.

"I'm Agent Flanner," the person identified, sweat-soaked and disheveled, his attire marred by dirt and soot. "We managed to cut them off in the other courtyard, thought they might shift their focus towards your location."

"How's the situation?"

The security agent wiped perspiration from his forehead, surveying their surroundings with a tight expression. "We're holding our ground for now, but the odds are against us. We're outnumbered two to one."

"We can help," Cedric stepped forward, his tone firm

Flanner hesitated, a torrent of conflicting thoughts etched on his face.

"They'll find us eventually. As you said, you're outnumbered," Harry reasoned with a calm determination.

"Alright, but stick close and follow my lead," Flanner's words held a mix of resolve and caution. "If it comes to a point where I tell you to run and leave us behind, you'll do just that. Our duty is to ensure your safety, even if it means we make the sacrifice. I'll emphasize again, when I give the order to run, you run, understood?"

"Understood," Ogden confirmed, echoed by the others.

Flanner remained unyielding until he received confirmation from each of the four boys.

"Good. Now stay low and keep with me."

They navigated the corridors amidst the chaos, guided by Flanner's lead. As they reached the security team's makeshift barricade, a barrage of spells targeted their position. Seeking refuge behind the reinforced furniture, they braced themselves against the assault.

"We need a strategy," Harry's mind raced, seeking a way to turn the tide. "Defending won't hold them off forever."

Ogden's eyes gleamed with a spark of inspiration. "Some of them are advancing. That leaves them momentarily exposed. What if you two," he motioned to Harry and Cedric, "fire off shield breakers, and I follow up immediately with an attack on the same target? Catch them off guard."

Neville nodded, his wand at the ready for protective spells. "I'll make sure you're not hit while casting."

The plan was set into motion. Cedric initiated the attack, launching a shield breaker spell. Predictably, a Death Eater in an exposed stance conjured a defensive barrier.

Harry swiftly followed with his own shield breaker, the combined force shattering the enemy's magical defenses, leaving them open.

"Stupefy!" Marcus rapidly cast at the same target. His Stunning Spell hit true, felling the Death Eater. "They won't try that again!"

However, before they could fully celebrate, another Death Eater rushed forward to revive their fallen comrade. In a nimble move, Harry rolled between cover positions, aiming his wand to cast a potent Bludgeoning Hex. The spell struck the reviving Death Eater with unerring accuracy, propelling them into a nearby wall. The Death Eater crumpled to the ground, immobilized.

"Good shot, Harry." acknowledged Cedric with a tone of approval in his voice.

Harry turned to Marcus. "We need more than just stunning spells. They won't stay down for long."

"Agreed," concurred the spirits magnate. "But at least we took one out."

Their conversation would be cut short, something of a recurring pattern that evening.

In the midst of their talk, Harry's attention was arrested by the movements of several Death Eaters near a nearby building. Swift realizations flashed through his mind as he discerned their intent — they were planting charges.

"Look out!" he shouted urgently, his voice cutting through the chaos, just as a deafening explosion erupted. The reverberating blast assaulted the air with a tumultuous roar, filling their ears with a cacophony of sound.

"Protego!" Neville bellowed, erecting a wide-reaching shield, a vigilant guardian against any unforeseen projectiles hurtling from the blast's epicenter. The shield intercepted the incoming debris, the thuds of rocks against its surface resounding like a battle cry.

In the aftermath of the blast, Neville's defense faltered, and he was flung back by the force. Harry acted swiftly, catching Neville as he staggered, his arms providing the support his friend needed. Yet, even as his concern for Neville pulsed strongly, Harry's gaze was inexorably drawn to the greater peril before them — the collapsing edifice.

Their movements deliberate, the two Gryffindors maneuvered with caution, determined to remain out of the enemy's line of sight. Meanwhile, Agent Flanner and a comrade from his team surged forward to brace the crumbling structure, offering a crucial respite that allowed the others to find safer positions.

The gallant effort to uphold the massive weight of the crumbling building, however, was a daunting task. Inevitably, the strain grew insurmountable, and Flanner and his ally were compelled to retreat. The structure gave way to gravity's pull, its descent unavoidable. It was a race against impending disaster, conducted in full view of the enemy's watchful eyes.

One of the defenders managed to find safety, executing a daring dive just as the building's fragments converged with the ground in a cacophony of destruction.

His companion was less fortunate. Flanner fell to the ground as an orange-beam struck him squarely on the chest, a pool of blood oozing out in its wake. Harry's gaze locked onto the unfurling tragedy as a ghastly sequence of events played out. A spell found its mark, tearing into Flanner's body, leaving a trail of crimson behind.

The Gryffindor felt a sinking emptiness within as Flanner crumpled to the earth, the light leaving his eyes right in front of him.

It was a reminder of the peril that surrounded them and painted a stark and haunting image that imprinted itself indelibly upon Harry's consciousness. The gruesome tableau would remain etched within his mind, casting a persistent shadow over his thoughts.

A chilling reminder of the grave destiny that loomed over so many, poised to unfold on a grander scale.

Even as the building's final descent reverberated through the ground, the weight of its impact palpable, Harry remained transfixed, his expression hollow.

Flanner, a promising youth who couldn't have been more than twenty-five, met his end as a pawn — a pawn that he had inadvertently sent into the throes of danger. The weight of it pressed down on him, threatening to suffocate him with a potent mixture of sorrow and regret.

Amid this turmoil, Cedric's voice cut through the haze, jolting Harry from his reverie.

"Harry!"

His name, a call to action, stirred him back into action. Harry's vacant expression slowly gave way to one of renewed purpose, even as grief lingered in the periphery.

"There's nothing more we can do for him now," Cedric said somberly, his voice heavy with the weight of reality.

The raven-haired boy's response was a solemn acknowledgment, his features a reflection of the gravity of the situation. "Except avenge him" he mumbled as he fired a hex over his head, his anger reinvigorating him.

After several rounds of aimless firing, the boy clued into the fact that haphazard attacks were not going to help. Pausing to assess the situation, his attention was drawn to a Death Eater who was focusing on landing heavy strikes - which meant he would be exposed relatively longer. His keen eyes quickly assessed the situation, and his mind raced to formulate a plan.

Taking advantage of a temporary lull in the crossfire, he whispered an incantation, summoning forth the magic he needed.

"Fulmen Strix!"

The spell, a creation of Regulus Black, had a unique effect that was both potent and carefully calibrated. As Harry cast the incantation, a surge of electric energy crackled along the length of his wand. The energy danced and arced with an otherworldly brightness, forming a concentrated bolt of lightning that seemed to hum with contained power.

The Death Eater, caught off guard while focusing on offence, scattered to raise a shield but was too slow to react. The bolt of electric energy from Harry's wand struck the cloaked figure with a resounding crackle of thunder. As the electric shock coursed through the Death Eater's body, their muscles tensed and spasmed involuntarily. The assailant let out a strangled cry of pain, collapsing under the overwhelming effects of the spell.

The defenders had scored a much-needed hit.

As the fight raged on, the four new participants chipped in where they could. Cedric landed a well-directed bone-breaker on a wand-arm before one of the agents took the intruder out for good. Harry counted five guys they had collectively managed to down.

The other side landed more hits, however.

Their greater numbers allowed them to keep their adversaries pinned while some could work on more elaborate spellwork. One of the attackers sneakily transfigured some nearby debris into a wild dog and made it leap straight at Harry.

A poignant wail escaped his lips as the feral canine clamped its teeth onto his left arm, inflicting a searing bite before a guard took out the dog a moment too late.

He gnawed gently on his lip, suppressing cries of pain, as the disinfectant's fiery touch intensified the stinging sensation from the bite.

Casting a ferula to tightly bandage the wound, he took a moment's rest, exhausted from the continuous casting.

Looking around, he saw Ogden had ended up with a painful-looking gash across his left cheek, but was persevering nonetheless.

He realized they had been increasingly restricted to just shielding from the incessant onslaught.

'Defending drains more energy than attacking' he remembered Salazar's lesson.

A practical example followed.

Given the makeshift nature of their defensive position, all of it wasn't properly enchanted, or was being recharged.

This meant continuous Bombardas at even fortified positions would eventually break through, necessitating a shield. Now that the team had exhausted their drop-down shields, they were forced to cast screening spells themselves, often at the risk of exposing themselves to Unforgivables.

Harry watched Cedric, drawn out from a purposefully verbally cast Bombarda take a painful-looking laceration to his abdomen. His worries elevated when the fifth-year coughed up blood.

Immediately rushing over to help, he found attempts to bandage the wound were in vain, as dark lodes became visible around the tear.

"It's a cursed wound!" realized Harry

"What can we do?" asked Diggory between heavy breaths.

*Cough*

More blood.

Reaching into his pocket, he offered his leftover Wiggenweld to the Hufflepuff.

"You sure?" replied a surprised Cedric "That was a nasty looking bite you took"

"I'm sure" affirmed Harry "Drink it"

"We can't even be sure if this'll do anything for the curse"

"Even then if we can't be sure, it's better than nothing" pressed the Boy Who Lived.

Cedric accepted the flask with a grateful nod. His features softened as the brew providing some welcome relief.

"Stay down, Cedric" said a concerned Harry, turning his attention back to the ongoing fight.

He saw another one of their numbers fall to a jet of virulent green light, an all too familiar embodiment of death's design. In an instant, the woman's vitality yielded to an inexorable darkness. her body once animated by life's vibrant pulse yielding to an uncanny stillness.

He continued to watch on as a bystander as a gap formed into their fortification, the first of many if things proceeded as they had.

It was hopeless, he realized... They had been pushed into a corner and were slowly being picked apart.

Also something he couldn't help but notice Neville's frozen stance. Amid the chaos, the young man stood immobilized, his face a mask of terror. Shivers coursed through his body, a visceral reaction to the events that played out before him. The stark reality of gore and death was enough to seize even the boy with a crippling fear.

'Is this it?' he thought to himself, a bitter taste of mortality creeping into his consciousness.

An emotion he had managed to stave off for so long—fear.

But suddenly, his growing despair was replaced.

A cold yet primal impulse went off in his head. A voice he recognized as his own yet one that couldn't have been more alien. An instinct that was so foreign yet so familiar.

'You still have one last trick up your sleeve'

The spell led Remus to right outside the main hall.

'Someone's tucked it in their pocket' realized the werewolf.

Marveling at how single-minded certain situations could make someone, he walked up to right behind where Death Eaters' now two-pronged attack and raised his wand.

Casting the most discreet detection spell in his arsenal—one devoid of visible cues—he discerned that the object of his search could be in possession of either of two closely engaged men. Frustration welled up as his spell couldn't differentiate between them.

With a determined exhale, Remus edged closer to the unfolding conflict. He watched the two potential carriers closely, waiting for the crucial moment when they would naturally separate, allowing him to pinpoint his target and make his move. Patience was key; he knew he only had one shot, one opportunity to act before drawing unwanted attention.

The inaction, the mere act of watching as the drama unfolded, was excruciating. Yet, Remus understood the necessity of waiting until the right opening presented itself.

So, he'd better make it count.

'Levicorpus!' Sirius commanded soundlessly within his mind, and his wand movements mirrored his mental incantation. One of his three adversaries was abruptly suspended about three feet in the air, his body flipped upside-down.

The quick-to-cast spell which started out purely as a novel means to prank Severus Snape had evolved into a nifty little trick he'd use in battle from time to time.

The split-second of startlement cost his adversaries as Sirius swiftly fired a quick Lacero, the laceration curse, leaving one of the intruders down for the count.

Ducking back to dodge the incoming spellfire, he rolled across the mouth of the pathway he was at, executing a perfect cover transition.

"Leovulnus!" he incanted midway through his expertly executed roll, a move mirrored by Harry not too long ago, targeting the still-suspended adversary. The spell's effect was precise, manifesting as three deep claw-like gashes that marred the mercenary's abdomen, resembling the aftermath of a lion's fierce assault. The suspended Death Eater crashed heavily to the ground, his wand slipping from his grasp and skittering across the floor.

With the scales now balanced, Sirius shifted gears, escalating his pace as he pounced on the last standing opponent, having shaken the rust from his years in incarceration.

Sirius huffed as he leaned against the wall, taking a moment to catch his breath.

Upon subduing his final opponent, Sirius leaned against a nearby wall, his chest heaving with exertion. A moment of respite allowed him to regain his breath and take stock of the situation. He had managed to vanquish three adversaries from a group that had likely numbered a dozen or more.

The attackers he had been shadowing had evidently detected his presence sooner than he had anticipated. Pondering whether it was his own misstep or their sophisticated tactics that had triggered their realization, Sirius quickly cast aside his introspections. The pressing urgency of the moment took precedence over self-analysis.

'There'll be time for this later' he scolded himself, beginning to make his way in the direction he saw the rest heading towards.

The memory of the spell Harry wielded against the dementors flashed before his eyes. It was a spell that had harnessed his negative emotions, channeling them into a potent force. And now, facing the very real danger of the attackers, he knew that he had to tap into that power once again.

His heart raced, his pulse quickening as he stared at the chaos around him.

With a deep breath, he focused, tapping into his inner bitterness that had festered within him due to the Dursleys' cruelty. The resentment he harbored for Petunia, Vernon, and Dudley surged forth, an enduring loathing that refused to be silenced despite his attempts to move beyond it.

Drawing from memories of his painful years with the Dursleys—of neglect, apathy, and outright malice—he fused those emotions with the guilt he carried from the events of the present day. In his mind's eye, he saw himself an epicenter of catastrophe.

He was a death warrant.

His parents had perished because of him. Riddle had nearly claimed Ginny's life because of him. Flanner and his comrades had met their end due to his involvement. Pettigrew had taken Ron hostage because of him.

He channeled his self-loathing and resentment, tapping into the darkness that had always lurked beneath his surface—a darkness that had empowered his spell once before.

"Ufferni Cynndaredd!"

The incantation erupted from his lips, his turbulent emotions propelling the magic. Once again, the air ignited with azure flames that burst forth from his wand, their intensity unyielding and fierce. The flames flickered in time with his heartbeat, embodying the tempestuous maelstrom of emotions within him.

In the brilliance of the blaze, the battlefield was momentarily illuminated, revealing the stunned reactions of both allies and adversaries. His own comrades dared not try anything, lest they risk getting too close to the inferno themselves.

The attackers, on the other hand, staggered back. Though their masked visages concealed their expressions, their movements betrayed a distinct panic that had taken hold.

But just as before, the spell's unpredictable nature threatened to consume him. The line between mastery and chaos was a fine one, and Harry found himself teetering on the edge. The flames danced dangerously close to his own form, a reminder of the potent force he had unleashed.

In the midst of this conflagration, Harry's thoughts raced. He was tapping into a power that he had always feared, a darkness that had the potential to consume him. The battle around him mirrored the battle within him, as he grappled with his own inner demons while facing the external threat.

But in that moment, as the flames blazed and his emotions roared, there was no room for doubt.

A testament to his growth since the previous year, Harry managed to exert a modicum of control. He directed the flames toward the Death Eaters, despite their erratic nature.

The sheer ferocity of the flames was a sight to behold, as two of the attackers were engulfed by the searing fire, their screams of agony echoing through the air as their bodies were consumed by the inferno.

But the remaining attackers were not without recourse, given that Harry had previously demonstrated the spell's potency. Drawing upon the lessons of their own magical education, some of them began to cast a counter-spell.

The incantation resonated with the collective will of the now defenders, and their magic swirled together to create a shimmering barrier, reminiscent to the one cast by Newt Scamander and his friends to thwart the calamity Grindelwald had left behind in Paris.

The two spells collided with a fierce burst of energy. The flames raged against the barrier, clashing in a battle of elemental forces. The air crackled with magic as the opposing spells wrestled for supremacy, a vivid display of power and determination.

For a moment, the battlefield seemed frozen in time. The roaring flames clashed with the counter barrier that the Death Eaters erected, creating a chaotic collision of magic and fire.

But Harry's control over the spell was still not absolute. The same reckless ferocity that fueled its creation also made it difficult to fully direct and contain.

The attackers, sensing an opportunity, advanced on any faltering in between the lines. Slowly but surely, they pushed back against the consuming fire, overwhelming Harry's spell with their collective strength. The flames that the Gryffindor had unleashed were fierce, yet, they were also fading, the brilliant azure hue dimming as exhaustion gnawed at his reserves.

It was a race against time, a desperate bid to hold on against the relentless onslaught.

And then it happened—a surge of power, an overwhelming force that broke through the dwindling flames. The Death Eaters' counter-spell advanced with a renewed ferocity, and Harry felt it like a physical blow. The impact struck him with a force that sent shockwaves of pain through his body, a searing agony that lanced through his chest.

He staggered backward, his grip on his wand loosening as pain blossomed within him. His breath caught in his throat, his vision momentarily swimming as he struggled to remain on his feet.

The wand that had been his lifeline, his source of power and protection, slipped from his fingers, spiraling through the air before clattering to the ground.

He clenched his teeth, willing himself to stay conscious, to fight through the agony and reclaim his wand.

But the pain was unrelenting, a vice-like grip that threatened to consume him.

A wave of exhaustion swept over him, his body demanding respite after a taxing battle. His energy waned, and he felt himself teetering on the precipice of unconsciousness. The world seemed to swim before his eyes, a dizzying whirl of lights and shadows.

"Avada Kedavra!"

Just as his grip on reality began to loosen, the echo of the Killing Curse sliced through the air, a malevolent promise of death. It was as if time had slowed to a crawl, the curse hurtling towards him with agonizing inevitability. The legend of the Boy-Who-Lived would end tonight.

He closed his eyes, a bitter acceptance of his fate settling over him.

But in that moment of surrender, salvation came from an unexpected source.

Debris, a remnant of the earlier explosion, hurtled into the path of the curse, intercepting its deadly trajectory. The air crackled with a surge of magic, and Harry felt a powerful force pulling him to the side, away from the path of more curses.

His world spun in a disorienting whirlwind, and then he felt himself cradled in strong arms. His vision swam as he tried to make sense of his surroundings.

As he struggled to recognize his rescuer, a familiar voice pierced through "I gotcha kiddo. I gotcha" the person whispered.

Recognition sparked within him, and his hoarse voice formed a single word, a name that carried both solace and camaraderie: "Padfoot?"

His eyelids grew heavy, he caught a glimpse of the figure's eyes, a flicker of familiarity that shone even through the disguise. And then, with a final exhale, he surrendered to the pull of unconsciousness, his body and mind succumbing to the relentless exhaustion that had been building.

Sirius's heart pounded in his chest as he watched Harry's eyes flutter closed, the young wizard succumbing to the darkness. Panic clawed at the edges of his mind, but he forced himself to focus, to listen for the telltale sign that the boy was still alive. His ears strained to catch the sound of breathing, the rhythmic inhales and exhales that would signify life.

And then, there it was—a faint, irregular heaving of Harry's chest. A sigh of relief escaped Sirius's lips, his grip on the unconscious boy tightening. The gravity of the situation remained, but the knowledge that Harry clung to life infused him with renewed determination.

As he stood on the fringes of the resumed battle, the animagus felt a strange, almost otherworldly sensation—a pull, an invisible force tugging at his awareness. His gaze darted around, searching for the source of this strange feeling, his instincts tingling with a mix of curiosity and apprehension.

And then it hit him. The wardstone had finally fallen.

The collapse of the protective ward marked the end of the attackers' assault.

With the knowledge of their ward scheme collapsing came a hasty retreat of the Death Eaters. The masked figures scrambled, apparating away to unknown destinations, leaving behind the scene of their failed attack. The defenders had held their ground, and despite the toll it had taken, they had emerged victorious.

Cradling the unconscious Harry, Sirius's expression shifted from worry to determination. He still had to ensure that Harry received the medical attention he desperately needed.

With a final glance at the chaos that had ensued, he apparated both himself and Harry away from the battleground.

Back in the main hall

Tonks and the rest, alongside with the remnants of the security were forming a resilient line against the onslaught of Death Eaters.

However, as the minutes stretched into what felt like hours, Dora began to feel the strain.

The constant weaving of spells, the reflexes needed to dodge incoming curses, the effort to maintain her shield charms—it was taking its toll. Her movements grew a fraction slower, and her breaths came a little heavier. Fatigue was creeping into her limbs, a relentless adversary that threatened to compromise her performance.

Beside her, Bill was similarly battling against exhaustion. His face was etched with grim determination, sweat matting his hair, his eyes narrowed as he kept his attention fixed on the battle. Madam Bones, too, displayed the same unwavering resolve, her commands clear and calculated amidst the chaos, while Scrimgeour constantly barked words of motivation.

Out of nowhere in this monotony of fire-and-dodge, one of the attackers on the front lines was suddenly thrust backward, propelled out of the main hall.

Time seemed to slow for a moment as Remus emerged, his presence unexpected but not unwelcome. Tonks watched as he delivered a forceful punch to a Death Eater, sending the masked figure crashing to the ground before following it up with a spell that incapacitated his opponent.

As two Death Eaters turned round to combat the new adversary, Nymphadora couldn't help but feel a sense of frustration as to why Remus didn't opt for anything more impactful.

Why target a single fighter from his advantageous position?

Her question would soon be answered.

A subtle shift caught her attention.

Her heart skipped a beat as she realized what was happening—the protective wards that had kept them trapped were finally collapsing.

Rufus Scrimgeour seized the opportunity. His voice rose above the din as he bellowed a spell that carried his message far and wide, reaching out to the Aurors stationed beyond the hotel's walls.

The Death Eaters, sensing the shift in the tide, began to scramble. The ward's dissolution meant that their strategic advantage had evaporated, and the battlefield was no longer in their favor.

In moments that seemed to blur together, the atmosphere shifted once more. The sound of apparition cracked through the air, and Aurors materialized in rapid succession, while the Death Eaters scurried into a hasty retreat to evade capture.

The main hall, once a scene of chaos and conflict, began to clear as the battle drew to a close. The remaining Death Eaters had vanished, fleeing the scene in a desperate bid to escape capture. The aftermath of the battle was marked by the echoes of spells fading into silence, the air heavy with the mingling scents of burnt wood and lingering magic.

Tonks lowered her wand, her chest heaving as she caught her breath.

The battle had been won.

That's all for now, see you next time!