Chapter 62
Being approached by a group of men who had such global interests had certainly not been something the Dark Lord had expected, and though he was sceptical about accepting the implied collaboration, he had opted to attend the invitation to a meeting.
Arriving in Lisbon of all places, he made his way to the Ministry of Magic, where he was led through a series of corridors to a large room.
Three men were waiting for him; the enormous Berg, a pointy-faced man wearing blue robes, and a darker man, undoubtedly the Portuguese Minister of Magic.
"Lord Voldemort, thank you for coming," Berg greeted him politely, gesturing for him to take a seat.
The Dark Lord did, unable to ignore the strangeness of the situation he found himself in.
He certainly never expected to be welcomed into a government building, given his current status in Britain.
"Gentlemen," he replied in kind, keeping his wand within reach should there be need of it.
Berg offered him a respectful nod as he cleared his throat.
"Allow me to introduce you to my companions. First, is Minister of Magic for Portugal, Mr Sousa," he explained, pointing towards the darker skinned man. "And the other, Mr Visser, who is the Minister for the Netherlands."
The Dark Lord greeted both.
"And the three of you, along with others, have political aspirations of your own?"
"Not so much political," Berg mused. "Each of us have reached the upper heights of the political mountain. We are all ratified members of the ICW. No, our interests lie beyond mere politics. Our interest is in the order of the world."
Voldemort leaned back in his chair.
"And what is it you are willing to do to achieve your goals?"
Berg chuckled almost in a chiding manner.
"Lord Voldemort, we have been doing things to shape the world in our image for the better part of three decades. We have become rather wealthy from doing so, but it is how the world functions that matters to us. Say, for example, we take an interest in a certain enterprise. We take it upon ourselves to ensure that enterprise is established, is profitable, and that no competition exists."
The Dark Lord nodded interestedly.
"And how do I play into this?" he asked curiously.
Berg and companions shared a look before the larger man nodded.
"Jameson and the Serpent have done irreparable damage to our efforts," he explained. "There were eight of us not so long ago. Four are dead and our agent in Poland has gone to ground from fear. We want both dead, and we understand that they have proven to be quite the problem for you."
"They have," the Dark Lord confirmed irritably. "They're proving to be quite the nuisance. Somehow, they seem to learn of things they should not."
"And that is why we should combine our efforts to be rid of them," Berg declared passionately. "With them dead, the world is our oyster, as the muggles would say."
The Dark Lord hummed thoughtfully.
"What is the catch?"
"Britain will be yours," Berg assured him. "Should all go as planned, we will continue to work together for the betterment of the world, but our countries are off-limits to your expansive desires. You are not to set foot in any of our homelands."
Voldemort nodded.
"What makes you believe I have such imperialistic inclinations?"
Berg chuckled humourlessly.
"I wish you would not insult me so, Lord Voldemort. Men such as yourself are never content with what they have. You always want more, but we must insist that our countries are left out of your plans. We are to be allies, after all."
"Very well," the Dark Lord agreed. "Now, what is it you intend to do about the Serpent and Jameson."
Berg grinned hungrily.
"That is where you come in," he replied. "Do not worry, you will not be alone in this little venture. You will have our full support when it matters."
"Then I am quite willing to listen to what you have to say," the Dark Lord responded curiously.
He'd begun to doubt that Berg and the others would prove to be as good their word, but there was no reward without risk, and upon sensing their arrival, he'd made his next move.
Hiding amongst the dementors whilst his allies got into position was an idea he'd formulated before coming to Godric's Hollow, and it had given him the needed reprieve from continuously being bombarded by spells courtesy of Jameson.
Whether or not it had fatigued the man didn't matter.
The numbers had been stacked heavily against them before Berg's arrival, and now, they were all but insurmountable odds.
He grinned in anticipation as Jameson shared a hurried conversation with the Serpent, and the Dark Lord looked on as Berg and the others led their men forward to wipe out those who opposed them.
(Break)
"Any ideas?" Harry asked.
"One or two, but not with so many of our own lot here. If you can keep them busy, I have enough portkeys to get people out in larger groups."
"Why do you have so many portkeys?"
"Just in case," Evans murmured dismissively. "Can you manage it?"
Harry nodded as he released a deep breath.
"I'll do what I can, but Amelia is going to be difficult."
"Of course, she bloody will," Evans grumbled. "I'll make her see things my way. Do what you can and I'll find you when I'm ready."
"Ready for what?"
"A big fucking mess."
Harry could feel the grin adorning the man, and it struck him just how calm and unsurprised he was about how the situation had developed, and certainly not in their favour.
Still, now was not the time to ponder the blasé attitude of his counterpart, not when a fresh wave of fighting was about to begin.
"It's looking damned bleak, isn't it?"
Harry snorted as a bloodied Alastor Moody took a spot next to him.
"It is," he agreed.
"Aye, well, there's plenty of targets to hit."
"And plenty to be overrun by."
Alastor let out a bark of laughter.
"There was me thinking you had a sense of adventure."
Harry quirked an eyebrow at the man.
"Oh, I'll show you a sense of adventure, Moody," he returned, readying himself as the newly arrived forces charged towards them with murderous intent, their battle-cries echoing all around them.
(Break)
"Who the fuck are those lot?" Arcturus demanded as he and Charlus watched the flood of men sweeping towards them.
Charlus could only shrug in response as he shot a brief glance towards Reg and Gilbert, who remained on the roof.
"I don't know, but it doesn't matter," he sighed irritably.
"I just want to know how all of this happened," Arcturus grumbled. "This isn't a coincidence."
"It isn't," Charlus agreed. "Come on, Jameson is there with Moody and Dumbledore. We should be able to manage something between us."
The Aurors were already in a tight formation in anticipation of another coming-together, and Dumbledore's group were mixed in with them.
At the very front of them all was Jameson, his wand twirling between his fingers as he readied himself.
"Lord Potter," a voice called.
Charlus frowned as a masked figure approached, and Arcturus rested a hand on his forearm to prevent him from attacking.
"The Serpent," his friend murmured.
"Is that so?" Charlus replied.
Of course, being on the continent during the war, he'd heard of the man and his exploits, and if ever they needed someone to who could shift the tide in their favour, it was now.
"What the hell is going on?" Charlus demanded as the man reached them.
"More than you could possibly know," he answered simply, pressing a metal disc into his hand. "When you see the red sparks, activate the portkey. If you don't, there's a strong chance you will not live to see the morning."
"What are you planning?"
"Something as dangerous as it is devious. I can't promise your home will be spared, but a lot of our enemies will be gone. All of them if fate is kind."
Charlus had already resigned himself to the fact that the home he'd grown up in would be unlikely to survive the ensuing battle.
Already much of it had been damaged, and it would be far easier to tear it down and rebuild it than try to salvage what remained.
Swallowing deeply, he nodded his understanding.
"It is strong enough to take around twenty of you. Pass the word along whilst I finish handing these out."
With that, he was gone, and Charlus shot Arcturus a questioning look.
"What do you think he is planning?"
"I don't know, but it's probably best if we listen to him. You heard the same stories I did about the things he is capable of."
"I did," Charlus acknowledged, signalling for Reg and Gilbert to join them. "Come on. I don't suppose he's going to give us much time to prepare. Best get to it."
"And there was me just warming up."
Charlus snorted humourlessly.
"You're as old and tired as me, you git. This is a younger man's game."
"Not when Dumbledore is around," Arcturus said scathingly. "What's the betting the old sod will insist on staying."
"That wouldn't surprise me," Charlus huffed.
(Break)
She wiped the blood from the cut on her brow before sealing with a tap of her wand. It was far from being clean, but it would do, even if it would leave a scar.
The fighting had been furious, and already, they'd been hard-pressed to seize any advantage with the numbers stacked against them as they were.
Nonetheless, with their training and ability to function as a cohesive unit, they had begun getting the better of the exchanges, until now.
With a fresh host of unknown foes bearing down on them, it was impossible to ignore the air of defeat that was creeping in amongst the ranks.
"Look sharp, you lot!" Grimm barked.
He had not come out of the fighting unscathed and his left arm was hanging limply at his side.
Nonetheless, Grimm was as tough as they came, and he would expect nothing less from the rest of the Aurors.
Amelia looked on as he began forming them into groups once more.
Evidently, there would be no withdrawal, though she frowned as she noticed a familiar figure leading Crouch to where Grimm was standing.
There was something of a heated exchange between them, but it seemed that, oddly, it was Barty and Grimm who conceded whatever point they were arguing.
Evans handed each of them something and the three of them went in different directions, with the masked man's gaze flitting around the gathered groups of Aurors until they came to rest on her.
Amelia met him halfway as he made his way over and he pressed a few metal discs into her hand.
"When you see the red sparks, activate it," Evans instructed. "No arguments. Everyone is leaving. Each one can transport twenty people. Get ready."
He left without allowing Amelia to speak, and she looked to see if she could see Harry anywhere.
She spotted him at the very front of where the attackers would reach first, and she felt all the worry of what was to come crashing down around her.
In the heat of battle, it was easy to forget everything else outside of it. It was as though the brain shutdown everything else other than focusing on staying alive, but in the lull of the action, it all came flooding back.
'Everyone is leaving.'
Amelia took comfort in the words of Harry Evans, and though she didn't know what the man was planning, knowing that all of them would be transported away from the hell they found themselves in was a relief, even if it meant the war would not be over.
"Dawlish," she called as she approached the man to explain the plan.
He was often an insufferable man, but Amelia couldn't deny that he was an excellent Auror when he wasn't being obtuse and he commanded enough respect that the others would listen to him about what needed to be done.
(Break)
"Are we really going to trust him?"
"Absolutely not," Berg snorted, "but he will serve a purpose. His ego will not allow him to concede defeat, and with him softening up Jameson and Evans, it is our best chance to be rid of them."
"And if we fail?"
"Then all is lost," Berg answered simply. "It is the best we have to repair the damage the two of them have done. Fucking Abernathy. The man became too brazen. We were to remain in the shadows and not draw attention to ourselves. He got too cocky."
"Just like Voldemort."
Berg waved of Visser's concerns.
"He is a means to an end. Even if he does survive, we will deal with him, in time."
Visser was not convinced, and Sousa remained silent on the matter.
Berg, however, had planned their endeavour meticulously.
Evans and Jameson were not to be taken lightly. They had proven themselves capable wizards, but no man was invincible.
Through their combined efforts, there was a chance of success, and that was all Berg had ever needed.
Against the odds, he had risen through the political ranks.
He'd trained as an Auror and had even been trained to be part of an elite force of the Ministry of Magic, only to be told that he was too large a man to do the job effectively.
Being close to seven feet was not conducive to clandestine missions, but he had made it work for him, in the end.
Being denied what he'd wanted, he'd turned his attention towards his political aspirations, and in less than five years, he'd been named the Minister of Magic.
From there, he'd made the acquaintance of his companions through Grindelwald's own efforts, and Berg had not looked back, even when the Dark Lord had been defeated.
It was with a guttural roar that he barrelled towards a man who looked as though he'd seen better days. Even only in the light of the moon, the scars littering his face illuminated the many scars he bore.
The man was missing much of his nose, but he did not balk at the oncoming stampede of men and women that Berg, Sousa, and Visser had mustered for the occasion.
"Aye, come on then, you big bastard," the man goaded.
Berg complied, firing a plethora of spells towards his chosen foe, who deftly diverted them with a wave of his wand before returning fire with an offering of his own.
It took considerable effort for Berg to match the feat of his opponent, and he chuckled as he did so.
It wasn't often he could find someone so willing to fight and judging by the way the man grinned in response, it would prove to be quite the duel indeed.
"He's mine!" Berg snapped as two others attempted to intervene on his behalf. "We will settle this between us."
(Break)
Harry quickly found himself inundated with people engaging him, and though they were not the best quality fighters he had faced off with, the sheer number of Berg's men would soon become enough to overwhelm them.
To his left, Dumbledore was fighting with equal vigour, and to his right was the foursome of Charlus, Arcturus, Reg, and Gilbert, a formidable team in their own right.
"Come on, Jameson."
Evans was evidently enjoying himself facing the new challenge, not showing an ounce of fatigue as he laughed at those falling to his wand.
Whatever he was up to, Harry didn't know, but despite them thus far being able to hold their own against the fresh wave of men, it was not a fight that should be prolonged.
Many of the Aurors had already been injured and subsequently withdrawn, and those numbers would only grow the longer the battle continued.
No, speed and efficiency was what they needed, and a way to get Riddle out of the midst of the dementors he continued to hide amongst.
"Not long now," Evans assured him as he dispatched of another attacker with a sickly yellow curse.
A girlish scream escaped his victim, and Harry covered Evans by felling another with a garrotting curse that throttled the man.
"What's the bloody plan?" he demanded.
"Well, we need to get Riddle out of the dementors first. We need to draw him out."
"He's not going anywhere until he thinks he has an advantage."
Evans hummed as he brandished his wand like a whip, tearing the throat from another of Berg's men.
Harry followed it up himself with a bludgeoning curse that sent an attacker barrelling into a group of his own men. Before they could right themselves, he engulfed them in a ball of flame, quickly filling the air with the scent of burnt flesh.
"Any ideas?" Evans asked in the brief lull.
Harry shook his head.
There was no time for both of them to cast a strong enough patronus to disperse the dementors, and even if they could, from what he'd seen, they would only return a moment later.
For all intent and purpose, Riddle was untouchable until his makeshift shield was dispensed.
"Well, we need to think," Evans sighed. "I need to give a few more instructions to the others, but when we get Riddle out, we need to come together as a smaller group as the others leave."
"We'll be surrounded!"
"Exactly," Evans replied before beginning to fight his way through the swathes of attackers.
Harry could only shake his head in disbelief.
Evans was as reckless as him, but he found it unsettling that he was not in the know as to what he could expect from his counterpart.
Still, the man had not given him any reason to doubt him through all of their ventures so far, and though it wasn't easy, he would not doubt him now.
(Break)
Fighting a man of the calibre he was facing now would be difficult enough with all of his mobility, but Alastor was not ashamed to admit that with a wooden leg, he was beginning to struggle.
Still, he could not help but lament on how much easier he would find it with his limbs intact, and how he knew he would be able to get the better of the exchange.
Nonetheless, he was never one to shy away from a fight, and despite the fresh wounds he was sporting, that wouldn't change now.
He blocked a barrage of violent curses that would undoubtedly relieve him of another of his extremities were they to land, and offered his own in return, smirking as he elicited a grunt of pain from his foe.
"Not bad," the man grumbled, whipping his wand upwards, and once more sending Alastor on the defensive.
Even though he was not as nimble as he'd once been, he could move well enough to not fall victim to the majority of the large man's offense, even if he found that he was beginning to wane.
Even so, Alastor would hobble away from this fight with his head held high, should he somehow survive the encounter, something which likely became less likely as he wooden foot was wedge between two bodies, and Alastor was sent sprawling.
Before he could catch his bearings, a searing pain erupted behind his right eye, and Alastor instinctively dropped his wand to press his palm into it to alleviate the sudden discomfort.
"Fuck!" he hissed, feeling the warm blood flowing freely despite the pressure he was applying.
"You fought well, for a cripple," a foreign voice mocked. "I will ensure you are given a warriors burial."
He sensed the wand being raised and lowered towards him, but it wasn't a spell that hit Alastor.
Instead, it was the warmth of a splash of blood not his own that seemed to douse him, and he heard the death rattle of the man who thudded to the ground next to him.
"Up you get, Moody," a voice encouraged. "You're not dead yet."
"Jameson?" Alastor groaned as he was pulled unceremoniously back to his feet.
"Well, I couldn't let you die, could I?"
Alastor chuckled humourlessly, groaning as another wave of pain and nausea washed over him.
"Jameson, I can't see."
He was being al but carried by the other man.
"Consider you're now missing an eye, I'm not surprise," Jameson sighed. "Come on. The fight is over for you. Time to get you to your favourite Healer."
Alastor couldn't believe that his eye was gone, but he was glad Jameson had not tried to sugar-coat the reality of what had happened.
"She's going to be insufferable."
"She is," Jameson said gleefully. "Don't worry. You won't miss much here. Everyone will be leaving soon enough and we will get you a nice magical eye wedged in the hole of yours."
"You make it sound so glamorous."
"You weren't planning on entering any beauty contests, were you?"
"Bugger off."
"That's the spirit," Jameson chuckled. "Crouch, you'd best get him to St Mungo's."
"Merlin, what happened to him?"
"He tripped and he fell," Jameson huffed. "Just get him to a Healer."
Alastor managed a weak chuckle as he was placed gently on the floor and he grabbed Jameson by the wrist.
"Thanks for getting me out of there, lad."
"You'd do the same for me, Moody."
"Aye, I would."
Jameson gave his shoulder a squeeze and only a moment later, Alastor was taken away from the battlefield, bereft of an eye but somehow still alive.
(Break)
He looked upon the scene below him, and a wide smile crested his lips. Although the combined Aurors forces, Dumbledore's group, and the others were putting up quite a fight, slowly but surely, they were being overwhelmed by Berg and his men.
The Dark Lord could not be happier with how his venture was progressing, and he even saw many of his own followers among them, with a considerable number having survived.
In all, the sacrifice would indeed be worth it, if, as expected, they were to emerge victorious.
With no Aurors, no Dumbledore, and no Jameson or Evans, there would be none left capable of standing in his way, and finally, the frustration he'd endured during his campaign over the past years could be put behind him.
Still, he did not like how much fight seemed to linger within his enemies, and from his vantage point, the Dark Lord began raining down spells upon them, though his casting was more careful and precise than when he'd obliterated half the ground beneath his feet.
It would not do to alienate his newfound allies, not until he was in a much stronger position.
There were other countries beyond Britain, after all, and Berg had been right in his assessment.
The Dark lord would not be pleased by holding one measly strip of land when there was much more within his grasp.
For now, however, he knew that he needed to be clever, to strengthen himself before he would be ready to conquer others.
It wasn't as though he was limited by the burden of time, not with his Horcruxes to sustain him in perpetuity.
(Break)
Harry fired a trio of curses towards a group bearing down on Dumbledore, and the man offered him an appreciative nod as they were halted, some of them remaining unmoving on the ground.
"Are you aware of the plan?" he asked as he engaged a rather keen man screaming at him in a tongue he didn't understand.
"I am not."
Harry nodded before driving his head into the bridge of another who had seized him by the robes and sending him into another group with a blasting curse.
"Then you will need one of these."
Evans had returned and he handed Dumbledore one of the metal discs.
"Where will it take us?" the headmaster questioned.
"To St Mungo's. It has all been arranged in advance."
Harry could only chuckle.
Evans had evidently been planning much in advance, though he wasn't sure how he was so prepared for this particular eventuality.
"When the red sparks go up, you are to activate it."
Albus looked uncertain, but Harry nodded reassuringly.
"Activate it," he urged. "I suppose we are to remain behind."
"We are," Evans confirmed, and once more, Harry could feel the smile beneath the mask. "It began with us and it will end with us. I have an idea, but we must get Riddle out from the dementors."
Harry released a deep breath and peered up to where Tom remained shielded.
He was now firing spells upon the crowd of Aurors, though they were having little effect.
His spells were accurate, but the red-robed men and women had quickly wizened up to his cowardly attack and were shielding themselves from it.
A battle of attrition, and one that would need to be broken.
"Can you get a spell in the gap?" Evans asked.
"Maybe, but we will only get one chance at it," Harry replied thoughtfully. "We need to disperse the dementors."
"Between the three of us, we might manage it."
"They'll only return," Harry predicted. "We need them gone. YOU!" he growled as Fawkes whizzed into his line of sight.
He'd seen the phoenix several times in Dumbledore's office since he'd arrived, but not as he appeared now.
It was much the same as the night he'd been dragged back through time by the phoenix, a night he would never forget.
He could feel Albus's curious gaze on him, but Harry's own was fixed on the usually red and orange phoenix, who was flashing the eerie black and white he had adopted after flying through the Veil in the Department of Mysteries.
Harry had wondered what had happened to the bird and had assumed that he'd not made the journey with him through time.
"You can explain what happened to him?" Albus asked, breaking into his thoughts.
"Later," Harry grumbled, assisting an equally curious Evans as he halted another group of Berg's men from overwhelming him. "If you're just here to annoy me, now is not the time!"
Fawkes trilled at him, and Harry frowned thoughtfully.
His passing through the Veil had undoubtedly affected the phoenix and given the nature of the magic the archway contained; he began to wonder.
Soul magic.
Although Harry had never been certain of much pertaining to the Veil, he was convinced that it was connected to the soul. He'd always heard the whispered voices coming from within when no other could, and his own experience with soul magic was something he had looked into.
For him, it was too coincidental that he'd been turned into a human Horcrux, and that he'd always somehow been drawn towards the Veil.
He frowned thoughtfully.
The Dementors feasted on souls and with Fawkes seemingly having taken on some of the magic from the veil…
"What are you thinking?" Evans asked, firing a blasting curse towards a man charging towards them.
"I'm not sure, but maybe it could work."
The magic at play was imprecise, but with how the battle was beginning to turn against them, Harry knew something had to be done.
"Can you get rid of them?" he asked the phoenix as Fawkes flew in front of him again.
He trilled in response and Harry shrugged.
They were slowly becoming surrounded, and with that in mind, he knew taking a risk was necessary to get Riddle out from hiding behind the dementors.
"Patronuses," he instructed. "If it works, then give the signal."
Evans nodded.
"On three," he replied. "Dumbledore, can you cover us?"
Albus nodded tiredly and Harry readied himself as Evans began his count.
(Break)
A deep frown creased his brow as he walked through the corridors of Nurmengard.
Being summoned by Cassiopeia Black on behalf of Grindelwald was something that would never sit right with Harry, yet, here was, answering the call of the man he'd once intended to kill.
"Ah, Mr Evans, thank you for coming," the former Dark Lord greeted him.
Harry merely offered the man a nod, his gaze flitting towards the other man outside Grindelwald's cell.
"I'll assume you did not summon me here for a cup of tea and a chat."
"Would you accept such an invitation?"
Harry snorted amusedly.
He didn't like Grindelwald but the man had not lost his sharpness during his many years of incarceration.
"Unfortunately, you are not here because I miss your company," Grindelwald sighed. "Mr Weber, if you don't mind."
Weber nodded grimly; his mouth set in a hard line.
"Mr Evans, there is going to be an attack in only a few days' time," the man revealed. "Lord Voldemort is planning to kill Charlus Potter."
"Voldemort?" Harry asked. "I thought you were focused on Laurent."
"It is my focus on our other problem that led me to the knowledge of what is to come," Weber replied. "I was following Mr Berg and he so happened to make his way to Britain. I found such an excursion curious, and I was able to follow him to a little village named Godric's Hollow. There, he spoke with Lord Voldemort and the two tentatively agreed to a meeting to discuss their current interests. Given yours' and Mr Jameson's connection to both, I assumed it would inevitably pertain to the two of you."
"Well, shit," Harry cursed irritably.
"Indeed," Weber concurred. "It is an eventuality you must quickly prepare for. You will be outnumbered considerably. Berg, Visser, and Sousa are gathering their forces as we speak. I expect they are formulating a way to catch you both in a trap, and where better than in Britain where you are already fighting a war?"
Harry released a deep breath as he processed what he learned.
"How outnumbered?"
"At least five to one, but likely more."
Harry nodded as he pondered just how he such a disadvantage could be utilized.
He couldn't simply allow the Potters to be attacked and ignore Berg's plan but throwing them into such a fight was not what he wanted.
"If I may, I have an idea," Grindelwald interjected.
Harry frowned at the man but gestured for him to continue.
"Well, it is clear that Berg has done enough digging to understand your vested interest in stopping Riddle. He may not be in the know of all the details, but he knows enough to be confident that you will intervene on any attack."
"I expect so."
"Which means they will likely plan an ambush against you. They will find a way to trap and overwhelm you. They cannot hope to match you and Jameson for skill, but numbers can certainly shift the fight in their favour, especially if they find a way to wear you and your forces down first."
Harry hummed thoughtfully.
"What's your idea?"
Grindelwald offered him a grin in response.
"It won't solve all of the problems you may face, but if you can manage it, it will certainly make for quite the finale and be more than enough to wipe out most if not all of your enemies."
"That sounds as ominous as it does dangerous."
"It is," Grindelwald chuckled, "but it will certainly serve you well."
"ONE!...Expecto Patronum!"
As one, Harry's serpent, Jameson's stag, and Dumbledore's phoenix careened towards the dementors in blinding white light, though they only made it halfway there before they were intercepted by Fawkes, who seemed to absorb each of the ethereal creatures.
"What the fu-…?"
His question was cut off by a bone-chilling shriek being emitted by Fawkes, and Harry could only watch as the phoenix began to glow as it barrelled towards the swathes of dementors.
The bird unleashed another of the shrieks and it sounded as though Fawkes was experiencing severe pain.
Before Harry could comprehend what could cause such a thing to an immortal creature, however, the phoenix exploded in a burst of white flame.
"Fawkes!" Dumbledore cried fearfully.
"Bloody hell," Harry gasped, and his blood ran cold as the fire formed into an enormous, cloaked figure carrying a scythe.
Immediately, the dementors began screeching in terror as they fled, but the figure gave chase, tearing through the unsuspecting Voldemort as it did so.
Harry watched as Riddle began falling to the ground but was quickly shaken from his observation of the Dark Lord.
"The signal!" Jameson hissed, being the first to shake himself from the shock of what had occurred.
Harry nodded and fired the red sparks into the sky.
By now, and despite the impressive display of magic, they were all but surrounded on all sides. Still, his instructions had been given and he breathed a sigh of relief as the various Aurors, Dumbledore's group, and even Charlus Potter vanished using their portkeys.
With only Harry and Jameson remaining, he shook his head as he immediately waved his wand in a sweeping motion.
The wave of blue flames erupted and encircled them, and the air was once more filled with screams as man after man was simply reduced to ashes.
Those within the circle stood no chance, and those outside of it couldn't escape either as the flames reached out tendrils to drag them into the fire.
Jameson looked on in awe at the magic that had been summoned before nodding to himself.
"Fiendfyre!"
Harry was taken aback by the use of the accursed flames that even he had always been wary of using, but Jameson proved to have excellent control of the fiery serpent as it tore through the ranks.
Some of those that had made the journey here attempted to fend them off, but it took a great understanding of the magic to be able to do so.
They managed to stall the searing fire only briefly before it continued to engulf them.
To Harry and Jameson, it was as though the entire world was ablaze, but their efforts to maintain their respective spells was unwavering, and even when both seemed certain the entirety of the area had been scorched, they held fast for a few moments longer.
When they finally ended their respective spells, it looked as though hell itself had arrived in this little corner of earth.
The surrounding area had indeed been scorched, and not a thing remained living across much of the Potter property.
Smears of ash were strewn around, and the smell of charred flesh seemed as it would never fade, much like the scars torn across the land.
"Well, I wasn't quite expecting that," Evans snorted.
Harry nodded his agreement.
"Was this your plan all along?"
Evans rubbed the back of his neck.
"Not exactly," he admitted. "I didn't expect all of this, but I suppose it all worked out in the end."
"It's not quite over yet," Harry pointed out, nodding towards where he saw a figure fighting to get to his feet.
They made their way over to where a horrifically burned Tom Riddle was leaning against a tree, his robes barely held together by a few threads, and his skin looked as though it was made of wax dripping across the exposed, burn muscles of is sinewy body.
"You just don't know when to die, do you," Evans huffed irritably.
"You can't kill me," Riddle choked weakly, letting out a croaking bout of laughter as he pointed the stub of what remained of his wand towards them.
Harry shook his head.
"Do you want the honour this time?" he asked. "I had my turn already."
Evans grinned as he aimed his own wand at Voldemort.
"If there is a hell beyond this place, I'm sure I will see you there, you bastard."
Before the Dark Lord could speak, Evans hit him with a vicious rupturing curse, and the two of them watched as Tom Riddle thrashed around in his final throes of life.
"Damn, we didn't even get to rub in the fact that you have his Horcruxes."
"Who gives a shit," Harry sighed tiredly. "Let him figure it out for himself."
Evans chuckled as he nodded his agreement.
"So, what now?"
"Well, I need to find Amelia," Harry answered. "I imagine she is going to kick my arse. You?"
"Probably," Evans replied apologetically. "Well, I have Lucius waiting for me. I should probably deal with him, and then I'm going home."
"That sounds good to me," Harry said wistfully. "Did you get the wedding invite?"
"We'll be there," Evans assured him. "Neither of us would miss it, and for what it is worth, it's been fun. Thank you for everything. If it wasn't for you…"
"You'd still be a miserable git living in a peace you didn't feel that you deserved?"
"That about sums it up."
"Don't mention it," Harry said dismissively. "It's like you said, we were in this together."
"I do still wonder if there are any others out there," Evans said thoughtfully. "I mean, what are the odds that there were two of us and we ended up here?"
"Fate is a strange thing."
"Do you believe in that?"
"It's hard not to after everything I have lived through. No matter what happens, or when it happens, it seems that Fate has a way of dragging me-us, into her plans."
"She does," Evans agreed with a frown. "Anyway, best take that git with you. They'll want proof. I'll expect we will be seeing each other soon enough, Jameson."
"I expect we will."
With that, Evans clapped him smartly on the shoulder before taking his leave, and Harry went about preparing Voldemort to be transported.
His corpse made for an ugly sight, but there were none who could deny it was him.
When he was done, Harry took a final look around, though he was distracted by a gentle chirping as he was readying himself to leave and face the music.
"I should have known you'd still be here somewhere," he murmured as he picked up the tiny phoenix. "I suppose I should be grateful for your help, but I still think you're a shit for bringing me here in the first place. Come on, I'm sure the old git is worried about you, Fawkes."
The little phoenix chirped and Harry apparated them away, pleased that Riddle was finally dead, along with most of the other foes that had been plaguing him for longer than he cared to remember.
(Break)
St Mungo's was in utter chaos as the Healers worked tirelessly to treat the wounded. Those who did not require medical assistance remained gathered in the large waiting area they'd appeared in with most speculating as to what had happened when they'd left Godric's Hollow.
It was a frantic Amelia who'd been looking for Harry amongst the crowd, though she was having little luck locating him.
Alastor along with Kingsley, Grimm, Barty, and dozens of other Aurors had been taken away for some much-needed treatment, and according to Dumbledore, a few of his own group were in a similar state.
Dawlish had been killed, as had several other Aurors who would be added to the list of many who had perished.
From what Amelia could gather, no prisoners had been taken, but she had seen large groups of Riddle's followers abandoning him as the foreigners arrived.
Who they were remained a mystery, but she was certain Harry would have the answers she sought, if only she could find him.
"He will be here," Edgar comforted, though the desired effect of his words were lost on her.
"He should be here now!"
Edgar chuckled as he shook his head.
"Did you really expect him to leave with the others?"
Amelia frowned as she looked at her brother.
Evans had been rather dismissive and had not even given her a chance to speak when he'd handed her the portkey.
"Oh," she whispered worriedly, a sense of dread filling her.
Amelia began to panic, and as she scanned the room for any sign of her intended, it only worsened when she realised he indeed had not arrived with them.
"He will be here," Edgar said firmly. "Harry always has a plan."
Amelia shook her head.
Harry always did have a plan, but she knew from experience how reckless and dangerous they could be, and despite his brilliance, he was not invincible.
"Looking for me."
Amelia turned sharply and breathed a deep sigh of relief.
Harry was there and he was sporting the same stupid grin he always did when he knew he'd irked her.
His robes were terribly singed and he was bloodied, but he was alive.
Still, Amelia was furious with him, but she ignored it in favour of throwing her arms around his neck.
"Is he…?"
"He's dead," Harry confirmed darkly. "I will destroy his things, and I suppose I will still have to find one more of them."
Amelia nodded against his chest, and barely a moment passed before others began to notice his arrival.
"Harry," Charlus Potter greeted him grimly, clapping him on the shoulder. "What of my home?"
Harry released a deep breath as he shook his head.
"It's still there, but it will take some work to fix, and I don't think the grounds will ever be the same."
Charlus nodded his understanding.
"What the hell happened tonight?" he asked tiredly.
"It is a very long story," Harry sighed, "but I will tell you everything I can."
Charlus nodded.
"Well, for now, I'd better let Dorea know everything will be okay. I expect she is going to have a thing or two to say to me. I'm glad to see you're okay."
He left and Amelia clung tightly to Harry so that he couldn't go anywhere without her.
"Albus," he called.
The Headmaster smiled weakly as he approached, though it widened as Harry removed something moving from his pocket.
"I thought you might want him back."
Albus beamed as he accepted the chick and placed it in his own pocket.
"I don't suppose you will be willing to tell me what transpired this evening?" he asked curiously.
"I will, but not now," Harry answered. "For now, I don't want to think about any of it. Tom is dead. That's all that matters."
Dumbledore nodded his agreement.
"That is all that matters," he concurred. "If you will excuse me, I must get an update on Arthur's well-being. Did you know that he is to be a father?"
"I didn't," Harry answered. "I'm sure his children will be equally troublesome."
"I expect so," Albus chuckled as he made his way towards one of the Healers.
Amelia continued leaning against Harry after he'd taken a seat and simply took comfort in his presence before looking up at him.
"You do realise that you won't be able to fob me off like you do the others. What happened, Jameson?"
Harry seemed to ponder the answer before he shook his head.
"Honestly, I have no bloody idea," he snorted. "I'm almost as clueless as everyone else."