Chapter 61
"Bloody hell! You got me again," Gilbert groaned as Charlus showed his hand of cards.
The others laughed heartily as Charlus counted his winnings.
He was almost forty matchsticks up this evening: one of his best performances for some time.
Whilst they were on the continent, they'd passed the long hours of inactivity by playing cards, but never for gold. They'd used muggle matches and it was a tradition they'd upheld since.
It was usually Arcturus who would emerge victorious.
The man was as stoic as any and he had no tells when it came to bluffing the rest of the group.
"You know, if we did play for money, I'd be skint," Gilbert mused aloud. "I don't know why I play with you lot. It's been almost thirty years and I've not learned."
"You're a glutton for punishment," Arcturus said with a smirk before placing his cigar back in his mouth and dealing the next hand. "I would think you'd know that by now."
"I must be to keep knocking about with you lot," Gilbert sighed. "It was alright during the war, you all looked out for me. In here, it's every man for himself."
"He's getting soft again," Reg pointed out.
Charlus nodded and thumped Gilbert on the arm.
"Stop being a big girl's blouse and shut up."
Gilbert scowled as he rubbed his shoulder.
"Up yours, Potter."
"That's more like it," Charlus praised as he placed a few matches in the middle of the table. "Come on, put your stake in."
"Oh, he thinks he's hot shit because he's on a streak," Reg goaded as he complied. "You won't be smug for long, Potter."
Oddly, Reg was right, though his sudden unease had nothing to do with the stakes of their ongoing game.
"What is it?" Arcturus asked, the first to notice his sudden change in demeanour.
"I don't know but something feels off."
"About the game?"
Charlus shook his head and Arcturus put his cards down.
"What do you mean?"
"Something just isn't right."
The mood in the room had suddenly sobered, and it felt as though it did when they were on the continent and the instincts they had developed kicked in.
Even in the easiest of moments, they'd learned not to ignore them.
"Alright, you know the drill," Arcturus barked as he stood. "If Charlus says something's off, then it's off."
Reg and Gilbert were immediately on their feet, and Charlus joined them, his frown deepening as he approached one of the walls. Tapping it with his wand, he peered across the breadth of the grounds.
"Do you see anything?" Arcturus whispered.
Charlus shook his head.
"No, but something is there. I can feel it in my bones."
He continued to watch with bated breath until he saw both the herds of thestrals and griffins emerging from the treeline in the distance.
They mostly remained in the woodland surrounding the property unless it was feeding time.
By now, they should be sleeping, and would only have left where they rested if they had been disturbed.
"Something is out there that shouldn't be," he murmured, unable to shake the feeling of unease.
"Have you checked the protections?"
Charlus closed his eyes.
He quickly felt that the protections that had been around the property for centuries, but something was different about them. They had been disturbed, but not in a way that was particularly obvious.
"Something is wrong," he acknowledged. "I don't know what. but they do not feel right."
"Then drop them," Arcturus advised. "Remember what Jameson told us about his farm."
Charlus nodded gravely and did so, immediately feeling a sinister presence surrounding his home.
"He's here," he growled.
"Who is?"
"Riddle," Charlus answered. "And he's not alone."
"Then we'll kick the shit from his bowels into his throat," Reg declared.
Gilbert nodded his agreement and Charlus offered both men a nod.
"How do you want to play it?" Arcturus asked.
"Before we do anything, I need you to get James and Dorea out of here. Take them to Grimmauld Place before he realises the protections are down. We will be able to hold them off until you're back."
Arcturus nodded and swept from the basement without hesitation.
"How many are there?" Gilbert asked.
"Dozens."
"Then it will be just like old times," Reg chuckled humourlessly. "Fuck it, if they want a piece of us, they'll bloody well get it."
Charlus nodded as his grip tightened around his wand, and he began preparing for when Riddle inevitably made his way across the grounds of his family home.
(Break)
It was all so eerily silent in the village as he made his way through it; too quiet for his liking.
Harry took comfort in the knowledge that Riddle's attack couldn't have started yet given the current peace, but beneath it was an undeniable undercurrent of something waiting to erupt.
Dementors.
He could feel them lurking nearby, though not near enough that their presence would be noticed, but there was more.
Seemingly lurking in the shadows was what felt to be countless wizards, perhaps in the hundreds, but Harry sensed no less than a hundred or so. It was difficult o be certain with so many, and although Godric's Hollow was something of a dwelling for magicals, there were not so many living here.
Still, until it was the right time to do so, he saw no need to disturb them.
If nothing else, he had the element of surprise on his side, and Jameson.
The man would undoubtedly arrive in the coming moments.
It was with a sense of anticipation that he carefully navigated his way towards the one presence he would never forget.
Riddle.
The man was here, and in the coming moments, Harry intended on ruining the man's life, just as the Dark lord had his when he'd been but a babe in his mother's arms.
It was somehow fitting that he would meet his foe here.
It would end where it had all begun.
In anticipation of that, he began his preparations, unsure of exactly what it was they would be facing, but expecting to be faced with the full force of whatever it was Riddle managed to muster in his desperate attempt.
"Come on, you bastard," Harry murmured. "Let's see what you've got."
(Break)
She had been but a young woman the last time she was so rudely shaken awake, and the expression of her older brother was much the same then as it was now.
"What is it?" Dorea asked.
"You need to leave," Arcturus said gravely. "The house has been compromised and I don't think we have long before he's here."
"Who?"
"Riddle."
In her sleep-addled state, what Arcturus had said took a moment to sink in, and when it did, Dorea gasped.
"What? How?"
Arcturus shook his head.
"We don't know, but he's close and you can't stay here. Come, we must get James and you will both be leaving. No arguments, Dorea. There is not time for it."
She nodded and hurriedly grabbed a few things as the gravity of the situation set it.
"Charlus…."
"Is Charlus," Arcturus chuckled darkly. "You know as well as I he won't flee. Do you have what you need?"
Dorea swallowed deeply as she nodded.
"Good. Now, let's get the boy."
He took her by the hand and all but dragged Dorea to the room a few doors away from her own, and she realised just how eerily silent it was. She was no Potter by blood, but it was as if though the very house itself was on tenterhooks, waiting for the inevitable arrival of a threat lurking around it.
"James," she whispered gently, rousing her son. "James!"
The boys' eyes fluttered opened and he appeared to be confused at the intrusion.
"What is it?" he asked sleepily.
"Up you get, boy," Arcturus instructed. "I need you to do something very important for me. Can you do that?"
James frowned but nodded.
"Good lad," Arcturus praised as he removed the family ring and handed it to Dorea. "You need to look after your mother. No questions. Now is not the time, but it will all be explained to you later. You'll be with Sirius and I want the two of you to look after the others."
"What others?"
"The rest of the family," Arcturus answered before turning back to Dorea. "Alert the Aurors and Orion. Tell him to check all of the houses and send for Cygnus and Druella. I want everyone at Grimmauld Place. No one is to leave until I arrive."
"Arcturus…"
"No arguments," her brother reiterated, attempting to give her something of a comforting smile. "Go. I will be in touch as quickly as possible."
It was with reluctance that Dorea took James by the hand and used the ring to transport them away from their home, not knowing if they would see it or her husband again.
(Break)
He'd scowled at the device as it seemed to stop working momentarily, but before he could become irritated at it, and at Antonin for his error, it resumed whirring gently, continuing its complex breaching of the protections around the Potter property.
"How long left?" Avery asked nervously, taking in their surroundings.
"Not long, I expect," the Dark Lord answered. "You seem concerned, Avery."
The man shook his head.
"Something doesn't feel right."
"That would be the Dementors. They are close."
Avery swallowed deeply and nodded, but he did not seem convinced.
"The Potters, my lord…"
"Have defied me," Voldemort snapped. "Now, be quiet. Everything is well in hand, more than you know, old friend," he added with a smile. "Every outcome you can imagine has been accounted for, and I have plans within plans. Now is not the time to doubt me."
Avery said nothing else, but the Dark lord could feel the unease of those accompanying him. The air reeked of cowardice, but their minds would be changed soon enough.
Of that, he was in no doubt.
"Ah, I believe it is done."
"Are you certain?" Avery whispered.
The Dark Lord narrowed his eyes at the man before he took a tentative step forward, and a grin tugged at the corner of his lips when nothing untoward happened.
"I am certain," he returned. "Come. Let us remind the world of why it is unwise to oppose us, shall we?"
Avery nodded and gestured for the rest of the followers to fall in behind, and in a show of strength and unity, they walked purposely towards the large house a short distance away as one, to remind the wizarding world that they were far from being defeated.
(Break)
Amelia knew that becoming an Auror, it wouldn't be unusual to be woken up in the dead of night to answer the call of an emergency, but since she'd met Harry, it seemed to only become more common.
Nonetheless, being roused from what little rest she was afforded by an ethereal stag was not something she'd ever gotten used to.
"He's attacking the Potters. I need you to alert the Aurors and get them to Godric's Hollow!"
It was as though someone had doused her in icy water, and Amelia's head immediately cleared upon hearing the revelation.
Not wasting a moment, she retrieved her Auror card and began frantically tapping it to send the message to those that needed to know before hastily dressing and preparing to leave.
She would not be going to the Ministry.
As ever, it would take the Aurors several minutes to arrive there before they would disembark.
No, Amelia would go straight to the village to assess the situation at the very least.
Besides, whoever was already there would need all the help they could get if Riddle had decided to attack en-masse, and if he had indeed chosen the Potters as his next target, it would be his only chance of success.
Wasting no more time, Amelia apparated away, doing her utmost to not consider what foolishness Harry would undoubtedly pull off in a bid to keep his family safe.
Foolishness.
No, it wasn't foolish to do what was necessary where family was concerned because Amelia knew she would do the same.
Nonetheless, this was Harry, and he would inevitably tear the entire village to the ground if it meant killing Riddle and keeping the Potters safe.
(Break)
He scarcely blinked as he continued his vigil, waiting until he caught sight of movement in the trees. Coming in through the woods at the rear of the property made sense if the protections around the house had indeed been manipulated.
Riddle would've been spotted at either side and the front.
"Anything?" Arcturus murmured as he returned.
Charlus shook his head.
"Gil and Reg on the roof?"
Charlus snorted.
"They are."
Both were excellent to have on the field, but Charlus had seldom met anyone who could hope to match either with their aim from a distance. Gilbert in particular was a crack shot with his wand, and he'd claimed many lives during their years on the continent.
"I don't suppose my wife is happy."
"I managed to get her out before she sharpened up."
"Well, I'll be getting my ear chewed off if we pull through this."
Arcturus chuckled.
"I expect you will, and it isn't a case of if we pull through, you soppy git. We've had to tighten are arses in worse than this."
"We have," Charlus agreed.
"Have you called the Aurors?"
Charlus nodded.
"I sent a message but you know how useful they are. Crouch will have to comb his moustache before he gets his arse in gear. For now, we are on our own."
"That's nothing new," Arcturus pointed out. "Come on, how about we get ourselves in a nice position give some of the bastards the snip."
"No need for that," Charlus sighed, pointing towards the treeline. "Here they come now."
They looked on as row upon row of cloaked and masked figures emerged from the trees, led by a pale-faced man in the centre, his red eyes shining in the light of the moon.
"So, how are we playing it?" Arcturus asked as he removed his robes.
"I have a few surprises for them," Charlus answered with a smirk.
It was when Riddle and his followers were around halfway across the grounds that a sudden screeching filled the air, and a sudden burst of lightning caused a fire to erupt across the treeline, blocking their retreat.
Some of the cloaked figures threw themselves to the ground fearfully, but Riddle turned sharply towards the house.
"That's quite the surprise," Arcturus chortled.
Charlus shook his head as he looked towards his friend.
"That wasn't me."
"Then who the bloody hell was it?"
Charlus looked towards where Riddle remained rooted on the spot, his eyes widening as he spotted a lone figure skirting the perimeter of the property.
'Come out, Potter...you cannot escape…meet your maker…'
"You know, he's quite a creepy little bastard," Arcturus grumbled irritably. "What is it?"
"Someone else is here."
"Who?"
Charlus shook his head.
"I think it might be him.'
"Him?"
"The Serpent."
As if the man was taking a cue, a loud hissing filled the air, and Charlus cursed under his breath as he witnessed the griffins and thestrals that had lived on the property for decades swarming towards the masses of attackers, and amongst one of the latter was a figure, brandishing his wand and raining spells down on the Dark Lord's followers.
"Well, what are we waiting for?" Arcturus asked. "Let's get in there!"
Without another word, Charlus hurried from the basement and into the grounds through the backdoor.
By the time they made it outside, chaos had erupted and Riddle and his followers were doing all they could to unseat whoever it was attacking them from the back of the thestral.
Already, Gilbert and Reg were causing their own havoc, picking off cloaked figure after cloaked figure with deadly precision, littering the ground with the bodies of their victims.
"Reminds me of old times," Arcturus said gravely, firing a vicious orange curse towards a man charging towards them.
His battle-cry died in his throat as he slumped to the ground.
"It does," Charlus agreed, throwing himself into the fray.
If it was indeed the Serpent who had arrived, Charlus would've liked to know how he'd known about the attack, but in the moment, it mattered not.
As he had several times in recent months, he was proving himself quite the asset, and as he continued raining spells from above, the Lord Potter was grateful for his interference.
"What the bloody hell is that?" Arcturus choked, pointing towards a blinding light plummeting towards them.
"I don't know," Charlus said warily, batting a curse aside and ducking another aimed at his head.
It had come close to striking him; a little too close for comfort, and as he looked up, he found himself looking in the eyes of a furious Dark Lord who was stalking towards him.
"Avada Kedavra!" Riddle cried, his eyes widening in triumph as the jet of green light raced towards Charlus.
(Break)
Dorea paced back and forth in front of the fireplace in the kitchen of her childhood home. She'd barely had her wits about her when she'd arrived, and when the realisation of what was happening dawned on her, she was as terrified for her husband as she was angry with him.
She understood why he'd sent her and James away, but for the better part of five years, Dorea had lived this very experience, every moment of every day gripped by fear that the news would come of Charlus's death.
When Grindelwald had been defeated, she never expected that she would find herself here some three decades later, worrying now not for a man she wished to marry, but her husband and father of their son.
"We don't even know if anything is happening yet," Melania comforted. "You know what those paranoid sods are like."
"How often are they wrong?"
Melania swallowed deeply and nodded.
"Well, Orion is checking on the other properties, and Cygnus will be here in a moment. Maybe they will be able to tell us more."
Walburga wisely remained silent and Dorea continued to pace until Orion returned only a few moments later, his expression grim, but he nodded.
"Nothing amiss," he announced.
"That doesn't really tell me much about what is happening at my house," Dorea pointed out.
"I'm sorry," Orion offered gently, "but this is Dad and Charlus we are talking about. Only a damned fool would try to attack either of them, especially in their own home. This Riddle must be quite the idiot."
Dorea didn't know why, but she laughed.
Perhaps it was the matter-of-fact way Orion had explained the situation, or that she might just finally crack under the stress if she didn't.
Regardless, she managed to snatch the smallest amount of comfort from the amusement she felt, though it faded quickly as she continued to worry for her husband.
(Break)
Any doubt that Evans may have been mistaken in the message he'd sent all but evaporated when Harry arrived in Godric's Hollow only mere moments later.
The village was in utter disarray as those that lived here fled from the ensuing violence, most, being muggle, unsure as to what was happening around them.
Harry pushed himself through the throngs of people with his wand in hand, muttering under his breath as he made his way towards the fight.
He could feel the measures Riddle had put in place to ensure no one could apparate or portkey away, but such a thing would backfire on the man.
Seizing control of the magic with his own, he made the necessary adjustments to allow others to arrive, but Tom and his followers would be going nowhere unless they fled on foot.
"Get out of the way!" Harry barked as he continued pushing his way through the crowd moving in the opposite direction, and just as he reached the end of the group, he paused as he took in what was unfolding around him.
Bodies were strewn haphazardly around, and a roaring fire blazed across a treeline only a short distance away, though the crackling of the flames was drowned out by the shouting, screaming, and sounds of the ongoing battle.
Without hesitation, Harry inserted himself into the mix, felling any who got in his way wearing a cloak and mask until he caught sight of a man he was more familiar with than he'd like.
Riddle was stalking across the grounds of Potter Manor, deftly avoiding the plethora of spells being hurled into his followers as he approached another man.
Charlus.
It was as though everything suddenly slowed down as Tom raised his wand, and Harry immediately knew what was coming.
Charlus, however, having been occupied fighting two other men, would not right himself to react in time, and Harry did not miss the realisation in his grandfather's face as he turned towards the smirking Lord Voldemort.
(Break)
It had been a rare, peaceful evening for Albus.
With the students away from the castle, he'd not had to involve himself in disciplinary matters, and he'd been able to finish his work at a reasonable hour.
He'd even managed to read leisurely for some time, though that was interrupted a little after midnight as the fireplace in his office flared into life.
"ALBUS!"
"Alastor, what is it?" the headmaster asked, fastening his robe as he entered the room.
"Godric's Hollow," Moody answered breathlessly. "He's attacking the Potters!"
Alastor's head vanished and Albus sent messages to the members of the group before readying himself.
Godric's Hollow had been where he'd spent much of his childhood, and thought memories had become rather bittersweet in the years since he'd returned, the thought of the quaint village being laid to waste was a deeply unpleasant one.
With that in mind, he released a deep breath to prepare himself for what he might face when he arrived.
"Fawkes, if you would be so kind."
With a comforting trill, Fawkes complied, and the two vanished in a plume of fire to once again face Tom and those who had chosen to follow him.
(Break)
Whether his aim was true was not a concern for the Dark Lord. He had spent years perfecting wielding magic, and as he watched the spell careen towards Charlus, his smile widened in anticipation of witnessing the man's essence be torn from his body, leaving nothing behind but a husk of flesh and bone.
Then, and only then, would he give the command for his forces to retreat.
It was a sudden explosion that blocked his view of what was to come, and when the dust settled a moment later, he was greeted by a sight that boiled his blood.
"Jameson!" he spat.
Charlus Potter yet lived, and he stood behind his would-be saviour wearing an expression of shock, though the near-death-experience had left him looking quite pale.
"Hello, Tom," Jameson said as though they were sharing a polite conversation. "Dolohov sends his regards."
It irked the Dark Lord, and the grip around his wand tightened.
Jameson did not fear him, and that only served to bother him more.
Instead of offering a retort, he brandished his was, unleashing a plethora of spells with a guttural roar of fury.
Jameson remained unfazed, and intercepted the fatal offering with practised ease, the smug grin he wore not faltering as he did so.
"That was very unkind," he chided.
Without hesitation, he offered a rebuttal, and the Dark Lord found himself hard-pressed to match each spell hurled towards him, though he laughed heartily when the onslaught ceased.
"You cannot kill me, Jameson," he taunted. "I am your better in every way!"
"Bloody hell, will you shut up and fight?"
Lord Voldemort's nostrils flared and he complied without further comment.
If Jameson was so keen to die, who was he to deny him?
"AURORS!"
The Dark Lord turned sharply to see dozens of figures clad in red spilling into the grounds of Potter Manor, and he growled irritably.
Somehow, someone had learned of his plan, and word had spread much quicker than he'd anticipated.
Nonetheless, he'd prepared for such an eventuality, and with little more than a mental cure, he felt the coldness of the lurking dementors begin to spread across the entire village.
With so many, the Aurors would be next to useless, even the arrival of Dumbledore would not be enough.
Tonight, many would die, and come the morning, magical Britain would be a very different place indeed.
(Break)
"DAWLISH, I WANT YOURS AND HAMISH'S GROUP KEEPING THE DEMENTORS AWAY! MOODY, I WANT YOUR GROUP WHEREVER YOU ARE NEEDED, THE REST OF YOU ARE WITH ME!" Crouch instructed as they arrived.
"You heard him!" Moody barked. "My lot, with me!"
Amelia followed Alastor, her gaze flitting to where are wide berth had been given to Riddle and who she could only assume was Harry as they tore chunks out of the earth around them with their violent display.
What her group had been tasked with was to navigate their way through the chaos, eliminate any threat they came upon, and secure each area as they did so.
Given that the grounds of Potter manor were expansive, it would be no easy feat, especially as Riddle's forces were spread thickly throughout.
Along with the Dementors, who Dawlish was attempting to fend off, it made for a particularly difficult situation to be in, and it certainly did not help that the protections here were being controlled by a currently unknown person.
If it was Riddle and things became overwhelming, it would be difficult to, perhaps impossible to retreat.
Still, Amelia had faith that Harry would've retained enough sense not to find himself in such a fight without first taking control of what laid in wait for him.
Once more, she looked towards where her husband-to-be was before she was pulled from her observations.
"Sharpen up, Bones," Alastor growled as they came upon a large group of Riddle's followers.
Amelia nodded and quickly found herself engaged in a furious duel with a cloaked figure sporting an intricately decorated mask, though she could not help but continue to ponder just how all of this could possibly come to an end.
Death.
Death would be the final outcome, but it remained uncertain just who it was who would emerge triumphant.
(Break)
"There isn't a way out!" one of the cloaked figures panicked upon trying to apparate away.
Barty would've laughed at the men were it not for the fact that he found himself attempting to fight off four of Riddle's followers, and though he was no slouch with a wand, he'd never faced such odds.
He'd not trained as an Auror, and strictly speaking, his role was supposed to be office-based, but he had never been one to let those he leads leap into the fire without doing so himself.
No, that simply wouldn't do, but in truth, he had little business being here.
He managed to fend off another wave of attacks from the four, but it was only a matter of time that he was either disarmed or killed, though it would likely be both given the nature of the fighting happening around him.
Barty groaned as he felt his grip loosen from around the shaft of his wand, and he could only watch as it was sent more than a dozen feet away from him.
"Well, if it isn't Barty Crouch," one of the men goaded with a rather distinct laugh. "What are you going to do now, Crouch?" he goaded.
Barty could almost feel the smug grin from beneath the mask.
"I suppose I will die," Barty answered with a shrug.
He was terrified, but he would not show his would-be killers that. He would die with his pride intact.
"At least he's not stupid," one of the others mocked.
A woman this time.
"Let me off him."
"He's all yours, Alecto," the man snorted.
"Well, I must say that I find it rather shameful to be killed by the likes of you," Barty sighed. "A pair of bloody inbred morons is not how I envisioned my life ending."
Alecto Carrow slapped him smartly across the face and Barty merely laughed in response.
"As weak as any other inbred, I expect."
She raised her hand to strike him again, only for a dull thud to sound.
Both Barty and Alecto looked on in morbid curiosity at the where her hand had been only a second before, but all that remained now was a bloody stump.
When what had happened registered, the woman screeched in agony, though her outburst was cut short as her head was lopped off her shoulders.
"ALECTO!"
Before her brother could offer any retaliation, he, along with his two remaining companions were set upon by scores of snakes of varying breeds, and Barty winced as dozen of pairs of fangs sunk into them.
"You!" Barty gasped as another masked man came into his line of sight.
"Me," the Serpent responded with a chuckle. "Are you going to arrest me now?"
Barty frowned at the man before shaking his head.
"No," he answered. "It would be unsporting to do so to a man who saved my life."
"That's a shame," the Serpent sighed. "I quite liked being a wanted felon. Somehow, I think it made me more attractive to my wife. Anyway, bye, Barty. Don't get yourself killed. I can't promise I'll be there to save you again," he warned as he handed Barty his wand.
With that, he vanished, and Barty could only shake his head.
"What a strange man," he murmured before throwing himself into the fight once more.
(Break)
Albus had never envisioned a time in his life that he would find himself fighting side by side with Arcturus Black. The two had scarcely interacted over the years since he'd become the head of his family, and yet, here they were now, somehow fighting a common enemy, though Albus was not as ruthless as the prominent lord.
The Headmaster fought with careful precision, using the environment around them as an asset, as was his preferred method.
Arcturus, however, opted for the curses his family was infamous for creating, and he did so to great effect.
"What do you think of that, Dumbledore?" the man ask as the spell he used opened up a deeply unpleasant wound on the stomach of one of Tom's followers, who collapsed to the ground with a scream of agony.
Albus chose not to comment.
Now was not the time to debate the ethics of magic, not when so much blood was being spilled around them on both side of the fighting.
Wherever Albus looked, he could see bodies strewn about the lawn of Potter Manor, and he'd seen several Aurors being pulled from the fighting sporting various kinds of wounds.
It was harrowing to say the least, and come morning, there would be heavy losses to account for.
(Break)
The fight between them had taken a sudden turn.
Tom did not seem to be trying to kill him as much as he was trying to delay him, which Harry found to be odd.
He questioned whether the man was attempting to tire him out, but that didn't seem to be what was happening.
No, Riddle was up to something, and Harry could feel an impending change in how the fight was progressing.
Although they were outnumbered, the combined forces of the Ministry of Magic, Dumbledore's group, and Charlus, Arcturus, Yaxley, and Gilbert were certainly experiencing more success than their foes.
Yet, something began to feel off, though Harry could not put his finger on it.
He continued his attack in earnest whilst Tom seemed content with simply defending himself.
It became rather unnerving, and even when Harry came close to landing a spell that would render the man lifeless, the Dark Lord did not change his tact.
Instead, he merely grinned before suddenly taking to the sky where he was quickly surrounded by more dementors than Harry knew existed, where he simply hovered for a moment and surveyed the land below.
"What the hell is he doing?"
"I don't know," Harry answered Evans.
Several people began casting their patronus towards the dementors, but as quickly as some were dispersed, others took their place, forming a protective cocoon around Riddle, who began twirling his wand in an intricate pattern.
The spell he unleashed was of a brilliant gold, and as it crashed into the ground, it began to tremble beneath their feet.
"MOVE!" Harry shouted.
The eruption of dirt, stone, and other debris was unlike anything he'd ever experienced before, and as he pushed himself back to his feet, his ears were ringing.
It took a moment for the hearing to return, and when it did, he was greeted by the sound screaming and panicked voices.
"Fucking hell," Evans groaned angrily. "Now I'm really going to kick his balls into his throat."
"Well, you might want to make it quick," Harry wheezed. "He's going to do it again."
"That might be the least of our worries," Evans replied gravely, pointing toward the treeline that had been on fire.
The flames had been extinguished, but amongst the charred remains, Harry saw movement.
It wasn't until the smoke began to clear that he realised that there were people there, dozens upon dozens of them seemingly lying in wait.
"Bollocks," Evans groaned. "The shit is really about to hit the fan now."
"Who is it?" Harry questioned, readying his wand to strike.
"Berg," Evans answered, nodding towards an enormous figure amongst the rest. "He's one of Abernathy's lot, and I'll bet the others are there too."
Harry could only shake his head.
With Riddle preparing another of his own attacks, and the numbers they faced now seemingly insurmountable, he could almost sense the bitter taste of defeat on his tongue.
"What do we do now?" he asked.
"We fight," Evans answered. "It's what we've always done."
Harry nodded as those within the trees began charging towards them, his grip tightening around his wand as he and his counterpart prepared themselves for what would undoubtedly be the fight of a lifetime.
(Break)
It truly was a rather beautiful village, even if it was named for a man who'd become an enemy of his ancestor.
Godric's Hollow was a quiet place, so initiating his plan would be easy, though it could present a few problems, but none so concerning.
Or so the Dark Lord hoped.
"Lord Voldemort?"
The Dark Lord was startled by the sudden intrusion, and his wand was in his hand before the man who'd accosted him could blink.
"Who are you?"
The figure that stepped from the shadows was enormous; much bigger than almost any other the Dark Lord had set eyes upon.
"My name is Berg. I am the Minister of Magic for Norway. I believe we may have a mutual problem. Two mutual problems, in fact."
Lord Voldemort frowned at the man.
"How did you find me?" he demanded.
"Is that truly important?" Berg chuckled. "I have men with exceptional skill at my disposal, much like yourself."
The Dark Lord was taken aback by the man's sudden appearance and lack of caution in approaching him.
"Mutual problems?"
"Named Jameson and the Serpent."
Voldemort quirked an eyebrow at the man.
"Pray tell, Mr Berg, how you can help me solve such problems?"