The Potter Conspiracy

A/N: Thanks for reading and reviewing.  I appreciate the feedback!  Buckle your seat belt, folks—this chapter and the next one will be quite a ride.

Warning: There’s a sexual situation in this chapter, and there will be a few more before the story is finished.  There won’t be any graphic smut.

Disclaimer: Don’t own it.

Chapter Twenty-Six – The Blood-Dimmed Tide Is Loosed

November 26th, 1995 – Bones Manor; Harry’s Bedroom

“It’s going to be fine, Parvati,” Harry smiled, trying to reassure her.  “You’ll see.”

The dark-haired Indian girl looked down once again at the tarot cards spread before her on the bed and grimaced.  Her eyes settled on one card in particular, and she glared at it as if it had done her a grievous wrong.

She sat with her legs crossed on the bed while Harry reclined next to her.

“Your major arcana was The Moon, Harry—that means chaos and confusion!  Anything could happen!” she complained.

Harry gave her a wry smile.  “Anything, huh?  You mean to tell me that divination is imprecise?  How can I possibly go on?  Maybe I should lock myself in the dungeons, just in case.”

Parvati narrowed her eyes at him and smacked him lightly on his flanks.

“Let’s not have this conversation again.  Divination is not as silly as you think it is, Harry Potter.”

“I didn’t say it was silly…” Harry began, but Parvati arched an eyebrow at him.

“Okay, I said it was silly,” Harry smiled, “but that’s only because Trelawney is bloody insane.  Maybe if I had had a better teacher…”

He grinned and ran his finger along her cheek, trying to placate her.  It appeared that letting her perform a tarot reading for him had been a mistake.

“Ha,” she smirked.  “Nice try, but you’re not helping.  I really don’t like what the cards say.  There’s a full moon tonight, and everybody’s expecting something to happen.”

Harry shrugged and tried to sound reassuring.  “I’ll be fine, Parvati.  Hermione and Bungard finished the bracer yesterday, and she even showed me a new spell they invented just for me.”

Parvati narrowed her eyes at this assertion.  “Oh, she did, huh?  And just what does this new spell do?”

Harry smiled at her jealousy.  He knew that she had nothing to worry about, but he found it somehow comforting that she was possessive of him.

“Oh, it helps with digestion after you’ve eaten spicy curry.  Very useful, that.”

Parvati rolled her eyes and punched him lightly on the thigh.  “Prat.”

Harry chuckled, but decided it was best to put her fears to rest.  “It’s a spell that conjures a flock of flaming birds.  I can direct them to attack an enemy, and they’ll distract him long enough for me to take him out.”

“Oh.  That does sound useful.”

Harry leaned over and stroked the edge of her knee with his thumb.  “Not as useful as your meditation.  You’ve really been helping me concentrate.  We could practice some more if you want.”

Parvati sighed and rested her chin in her hands.  “I don’t know.  I’m just being contrary.  I was planning to give you a little gift, but…”

“But?”

“I’m not sure if I’m in the mood,” she said, frowning delicately.

“How can you not be in the mood to give me a gift?” Harry coaxed.  “I’m in the mood for you to give me a gift.”

“Because it’s a bit unusual,” she replied, a glint of amusement in her eyes at his reply.

Now Harry’s curiosity was thoroughly aroused.  “You’re such a tease.  You can’t send me off to battle wondering what you’re hiding under your bed.  Did you find a way to make my glasses see through clothes?  Did you discover a family of crumple-horned whats-its in the garden?”

Parvati laughed in spite of her mood.

“No, it’s something…else,” she said, smirking.  She looked at the clock on the wall with a calculating expression.  “I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to give you a preview.  It’s still four hours till nightfall.”

“A preview?”

“I was planning to put on a little show, let’s say.”

“Well, I’m in the mood for some entertainment,” Harry smiled, hoping to convince her to do whatever she was planning.  Anything that would keep his mind from lingering on the potential battle that evening would be welcome.

“Oh, I’m quite sure you’ll like this,” Parvati grinned, and raised herself from the bed.  “I’ll be back in a second,” she said, and left Harry’s room at a run.

Five minutes later, she returned wearing a bulky, floor-length black robe.

Harry looked curiously from her empty hands to her face.  She grinned slyly at him, then drew her wand and locked the door.

Next she flicked her wand at the wizarding wireless on his nightstand.  They had destroyed Britain’s chief magical radio station long ago, but the receiver was still able to play pre-recorded varieties of music.

A syrupy song from Celestina Warbeck blared through its tiny speakers, and Parvati frowned.  “That won’t do at all,” she muttered, and quickly cycled through a dozen different options.

When she was satisfied, the wireless set had stopped on a slow song with strong percussion that sounded vaguely Eastern in origin.

“Perfect,” she smiled, and made eye contact with Harry.  He looked at her in confusion, her actions completely bewildering to him.

He watched closely as she grabbed the sides of her black robe and then pulled it off with a flourish.

Harry gaped at what lay beneath.

Parvati was wearing a traditional Indian sari underneath her robes.  It was bright red and lined with gold fringe.  The long, loose-fitting skirt of the sari rested low on her hips, and the top—a choli—was the closest thing Harry had ever seen to a bikini top.  It exposed her bare midriff, and Harry felt unable to look away from the caramel skin of her belly.

She wore a long piece of pink gossamer cloth over one shoulder, and Harry watched as she pulled it off and swung it before him like a bullfighter’s cape.

“You like?” she asked, grinning.

“Wow,” he whispered, mesmerized as she held the thin cloth before her and started moving her hips in a subtle, swaying motion.

“Belly dancing is a traditional art for Indian girls even in magical families,” Parvati informed him with a mischievous smirk.  “I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I know enough to put on a show for you, I think.”

Harry nodded wordlessly for her to continue.

Parvati giggled at his expression and began twirling the gossamer cape around her body as she moved to the beat of the music.  Her hips swayed lightly back and forth, inviting Harry’s eyes to follow.

After a moment she began moving her hips more forcefully, her subtle thrusts emphasizing the bare skin of her stomach.

Harry watched, enthralled, as she continued her dance for several minutes.  She glided easily around the room, her eyes closed as she lost herself in the movements of her body and the beat of the music.

When the song finally finished and a new one began, Parvati came forward and tossed the gossamer cape lightly over his shoulders.

“Now for the real show,” she whispered, and Harry noticed that she looked a little apprehensive.

She stepped back from the bed and began swaying to the music, trying to find the proper rhythm.  The new song was faster, its beat more urgent.

She met his eyes, then pulled on a large knot at the edge of her choli.  She twirled slowly around, and the choli began unraveling as she turned.

A moment later she was standing topless before him, the long garment unwrapped in her hand.

“Whoa,” Harry breathed in awe, now fully aware of the special treat he was being given.

Parvati dropped the choli to the ground and drew closer to him.  She began swaying her hips in a gentle undulating motion, drawing in her flat belly and then releasing it.

For Harry, it was a display of unbridled eroticism.

He forgot to breathe.  He couldn’t decide whether to watch the lusty sway of her hips, the undulations of her belly, or the beauty of her exposed breasts.

His heart beat like a drum as she stepped back again and continued dancing to the music.  She fixed him with a look that could only be described as predatory, and then began rotating her hips in a small oval, drawing his attention there.  She reached to the side of the skirt and pulled roughly on a thin bow of ribbon.

The skirt fell unceremoniously to the floor, and underneath she was completely nude.

Harry’s mouth fell open in shock at the vision of bronzed beauty before him.  Parvati continued her movements, though more subdued, as his eyes traveled hungrily over her entire body.  From her small pert breasts, down to her taut stomach, to the trimmed patch of straight black hair that lay between her legs, Harry felt he could stare forever.

“Well?” Parvati inquired softly when he continued to stare open-mouthed.

“Holy…Merlin,” Harry whispered, finally meeting her eyes.  “You’re…stunning, Parvati.  A goddess.”

“Thank you,” she smiled shyly, and stepped around the pooled skirt on the floor.  She picked up her wand and pointed it at the wireless, and the music came to an abrupt halt.

She stood next to the bed before Harry, a little more apprehensive now that the dance was over and the music had stopped.  He wondered if she had planned for what might happen next.

A little unsure what to do now, Harry reclined back on the bed and patted the space next to him.

Parvati looked at the space for a moment, then obligingly lay down next to him.  He stared into her eyes as he ran his hand up and down her flanks, brushing her bare hips.

She shivered at his touch, then leaned forward and kissed him gently.  Harry responded eagerly, and soon they were locked in a passionate embrace.

After a few moments, Parvati pulled away and looked at him teasingly.  Her breathing was heavy and her face was flushed.

“So do you like your gift?”

“So much better than a snorkack,” Harry breathed sincerely.

Parvati giggled and ran a finger along the thigh of his jeans.

“I think one of us is a little overdressed for this occasion.”

Harry couldn’t help agree.  He held her gaze as she pulled off his shirt and then reached down to unbutton his jeans.

He sighed as he felt her hands on him.  He may have to fight for his life later in the evening, but it was turning out to be one hell of an afternoon as far as he was concerned.

The war could wait.

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November 26th, 1995, 6:30PM – Just Outside Hogsmeade

Five hours later, two figures stole through the darkness surrounding Hogsmeade, their footfalls masked by silencing spells and their wands emitting no light.

They crouched behind an old abandoned building on the Western outskirts of the village, only ¼ of a mile from the main thoroughfare.

“It’s time,” whispered a gravelly but feminine voice, the glee hidden in the words unmistakable.

Rodolphus Lestrange looked once at his wife and nodded.  He placed two fingers in his mouth and whistled loudly, the shrillness of the sound cutting through the night.

A moment of stillness followed, then both figures breathed out audibly as a loud howl sounded from the other side of the village.  Other howls soon joined it in an unholy chorus, and even Bellatrix shivered at the wildness of the sound.

Seconds later a loud boom echoed from the north end of the town, the section where most of the town’s citizens resided.  That was their signal.  The first of the residential wards on wizarding homes was down, and others would soon follow.

Bellatrix smiled in the dark and was unable to resist a little giggle.  The assault on Hogsmeade had begun, and soon her Master would bathe in his enemies’ blood.

The pair rose from their hiding place and moved stealthily down an empty side street.  Both shivered when they felt anti-apparition and anti-portkey wards blanket the city.  The citizens were trapped now.  Those remaining in the town would submit or die.

Ministry Aurors and curse breakers, numbering almost six dozen, were bringing down wards and rousting the remaining citizens of Hogsmeade from their homes.

“There,” Rodolphus whispered, and pointed at an alley that ran behind the businesses on the main street of Hogsmeade.  The pair stepped into it cautiously, and both froze when a brief flash of bright light illuminated the darkness ahead of them.  Fifty feet ahead, a tiny, silvery bobcat lit up the night and sped off in the direction of Hogwarts.

Bellatrix signaled her husband, and three seconds later the Death Eaters unleashed a torrent of blasting curses at the presumed location of their company.

There was a gasp of surprise, and a bright red shield materialized out of thin air.  The blasting curses rebounded from the shield, shattering themselves on the walls of the narrow alley, but the damage was done.

“Avada Kedavra!”

“Avada Kedavra!”

Both Lestranges filled the alley with a hail of killing curses.  Their prey never stood a chance.  The lid of a garbage bin floated in the air for a moment, exploding when it collided with one of the dull green curses, and then there was silence.  A crumpled form appeared on the dirty ground.

“One of them hit,” Bellatrix said gleefully, and moved quickly to their downed opponent.

Rodolphus followed and stood watch as she turned over the now distinctly feminine body.

“Emmaline Vance,” she whispered triumphantly.  “That’s one less of Dumbledore’s fools to worry about.”

A shrill howl suddenly pierced the night from not far away, and it was followed by the sound of screaming.

“Let’s go,” said Rodolphus, and the Lestranges stepped over the fallen Order  member and moved closer to their destination.  The end of the alley would give them a clear view of the north end of Hogsmeade’s main thoroughfare.

Their job was to hide and provide cover for the werewolves as they rampaged through the town.  Their wait would continue until someone from Bones’ or Dumbledore’s group showed up, and then the real fun would begin.

Other Death Eaters had likewise positioned themselves throughout the town, ready to fight all comers.  Few were disillusioned, as it represented too great a risk in a large fight, but all were concealed within the darkness.

Avery stood atop the tallest building in the town, ready to take potshots at those below.  Malfoy, disillusioned, knelt inside the front door of a small deserted bistro.  Others crept through alleys along the edge of the main street, ready to burst forth when the time was right.

Bellatrix could hardly contain her excitement.  Finally, finally, her Master would lay waste to his enemies in wizarding Britain.  Harry Potter and Albus Dumbledore would not survive the night, and all the world would fear the Dark Lord’s greatness.

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Just Outside Hogsmeade; Three Minutes Later

Five soft pops of apparition sounded on a grassy knoll outside of Hogsmeade.  Five wands were raised and ready for anything, but there was no immediate danger.

“Right,” said Savage, sounding more authoritative than Harry had ever heard him.  “Spread out, like usual, and let’s move.  We’ve got the southwestern corner.  We push to the north and make sure we don’t get encircled.”

Tonks, Harry, and two other former Aurors—McMurphy and Burns—nodded and followed Julian Savage’s orders.  Each cast silencing spells on his feet to conceal the sound of his steps.

Harry’s heart pounded heavily in anticipation as he strode through the darkness.  He had spent the afternoon relaxing in Parvati’s arms, knowing that this moment might be coming.  This was what he was training for, hoping for, and dreading.  The Death Eaters were apparently making a big push, and this was a chance to break their backs.

His team was one of seven, each approaching Hogsmeade from a different direction.  They hoped to engage their opponents piece-meal, avoiding a massive and chaotic battle in the main thoroughfare.  Three of the teams would be approaching from the north, intent on crushing the Ministry Aurors who were harassing the citizenry.

The others would try to secure the town from whatever was lying in wait there.  Reinforcements from Hogwarts were, in theory, already on the way, and Harry hoped desperately that they would not be delayed.

The small group grew closer to the village, and each shivered at the sound of the howling werewolves that called out to each other every few seconds.  They were close enough to hear shouts of anger and screams of agony, and already the skyline was lit up with fire and dark, billowing smoke.

They approached an overgrown lot next to an alley, and the entire team crouched low behind a broken brick wall.  There was a darkened but wide alley next to the lot, leading into the heart of the village.

Savage muttered a revealing spell as he leaned around the corner of the alley, and frowned when he saw the results.  There were two people, most likely Death Eaters, lying in wait at the end of the alley.

He turned to his group.  “Tonks, Harry,” he whispered, “you go left and right through the buildings on either side of the alley and try to flank them.  We’ll give you sixty seconds, then we’ll unleash hell from the front.  Even if you’re not fast enough, we need to clear the houses.  Be careful.”

Tonks and Harry looked once at each other and then nodded at Savage.  Both silently disillusioned themselves, as this particular task had a low risk of friendly fire.

They crept off into the darkness as Savage, McMurphy, and Burns settled in to wait.

Harry moved forward in the darkness until he came upon the wall of either a house or a business.  He couldn’t tell which.  There was a window at waist height, and it appeared to be unwarded.

Unlocking it cautiously, he pulled himself through the window and slipped inside a darkened room.  He paused for a moment, but the only sound was his own heartbeat pounding in his head.

Finding the small house deserted, he exited it from a side door that opened onto another small alley, running perpendicular to their target.  The door of another cottage lay in front of him across the alley, and he cautiously attempted to unlock it.  It would not open.

Harry looked once in both directions and then leveled his wand at the door.

“Fuck it,” he muttered to himself, and blasted the door off its hinges.  Weak wards fell in a flash of neon purple, and Harry paused before darting across the alley and into another darkened room.

He found himself in some sort of sitting room, and it too appeared to be deserted.  He moved quickly through the house, and found an exit through a large bay window overlooking an enclosed grassy space.

He silently vanished the glass and stepped once again into the night air, careful to keep his sense of direction oriented.  He could be no more than 100 feet from his destination now.

Exiting the window stealthily, he paused in the grass and gathered his bearings.  This was a part of the village he had never visited as a student, and the patchwork grid of little streets and dirty alleys surprised him.  A narrow, diagonal alley to his left seemed to lead straight to his destination.

Harry was halfway down the alley when the sound of spell fire erupted fifty feet ahead of him.  He couldn’t see the hidden Death Eaters, but he could hear them.  Savage and the others had begun their assault.

Harry concentrated for a moment, then conjured a handful of Hermione’s flaming birds.  His wand sent them careening down the alley, searching for Death Eaters to harass and annoy.

Harry followed them cautiously, but stopped when the sound of heavy breathing from behind him caught his attention.  He turned to see a huge, slavering werewolf sprinting through the alley and quickly bearing down on him.  It couldn’t see through his disillusionment, but it must have smelled his presence.

Harry’s heart rate suddenly skyrocketed.

“Shite,” he muttered, and went down on one knee in front of the charging beast.  He had never fought a werewolf, and he could only hope that his blasting curses would be strong enough to fell it.  He had no time for any other strategy.

As calmly as he could, he cast an array of blasters at the approaching wolf, filling the alley with them.  He watched in disbelief as the beast leapt on the walls and darted around his curses, carefully avoiding the exploding shrapnel surrounding it.  Not a single one had hit.

It was now nearly upon him, and Harry could see the dull, savage yellow of its eyes.

Thinking quickly, he took aim purposely low, sending a blasting curse directly at the wolf’s feet.  The werewolf responded exactly as he had hoped.  It leapt into the air, fangs bared, directly at him.

“Confringo,” Harry muttered, and the wolf’s head exploded clean off its body, twisting it around in a comic pirouhette.  Its broken body fell to the dirty ground and skidded to a halt inches from his feet.

He shook his head and let out a relieved sigh.

Turning back to the alley behind him, he noticed that the spell fire had stopped sometime during his battle with the werewolf.  He approached the end of the alley cautiously, but relaxed when a soft whisper came from around the dark corner.

“Harry?”

“Yeah, I’m here, Tonks,” he answered, and glanced around the corner.

Tonks stood before him with a questioning glance, and Harry could see Savage and the others kneeling in front of two prone bodies nearby.  He ended his disillusionment so she could see him.

“Did you get them?”

“Yeah, I came in from the side, and Jules blasted them from the front.  It was Selwynn and Goyle.  What took you so long?”

“Werewolf,” Harry muttered, and glanced back down the alley.

Tonks shivered.  “I sent a message to Director Bones to send everybody.  This looks like the big one.”

Harry nodded and the two moved through the darkness to rejoin their team.

They had no sooner reached the end of the alley than an enormous explosion shook the ground beneath their feet.  A huge fireball appeared in the sky over Hogsmeade, and there were smaller, colorful explosions within it.

“Zonko’s!” shouted McMurphy over the noise.  “We better get in there!”

Without further ado, the team of five moved out of the alley and spread out into the main thoroughfare of Hogsmeade.  The sight that greeted them was expected, but horrifying all the same.

Werewolves were running to and fro, jibbering and yapping and making an appalling racket as they latched on to a few unlucky people with their teeth and eviscerated them with their claws.

Death Eaters were visible in the street, flinging spells at those who ran or resisted the werewolves.  Two teams from Bones Manor were engaged further to the north, lighting up the village in a spectacular but deadly lightshow.  Beyond them Harry could see hordes of red-robed Aurors setting fire to homes and dragging screaming people out into the street.

It was pure chaos.

Harry blinked once at the noise and spectacle of so much violence.  He shook his head, then activated his metal shield and levitated it before him with his left hand.  It was time to make things a bit more orderly.

The group of five spread out and advanced down the street.

A small gray werewolf bounded out of a burning window to their left and looked around the street.  The wolf only had time to sniff the air before it was literally ripped apart by a hail of vicious curses.  

No one bothered to congratulate themselves on this small victory.

From the shadows on both sides of the street, half-a-dozen killing curses sped directly at Harry and his team.  He quickly levitated his metal shield before him, hoping to Merlin that it would work on the real thing.  The curse struck, and he winced as it resounded with a loud gong and contorted from the force of the blast.

Harry dropped the ruined shield quickly and unleashed a torrent of blasting curses at the location of one of his assailants.  His first two curses were blocked, but the third and fourth struck true.  There was a horrific scream and then silence.

Harry dodged a livid orange curse that was sent his way, then quickly surveyed the scene.  Five, now six Death Eaters had moved into the street to engage his team.  Tonks, Savage, McMurphy, and Burns each had an opponent, while two others—one huge and blonde, the other small and masked—brandished their wands in his direction.

Harry activated another shield from his bracer and held it aloft before him.  He felt that it was safe to his left, so he moved to the side of the main fighting in hopes of flanking the Death Eaters.  The two paying attention to him turned and approached him directly.

The small one threw a long metal spear at him, which he batted down with a wanded shield, and the other cast a badly aimed killing curse.  Harry focused on his breathing and went on the offensive.

He spell-chained a sequence of curses at the small Death Eater while dodging and blocking the spells of the large one.  Harry’s third spell destroyed his target’s shield and left the man vomiting his own blood on the ground.

The huge blonde Death Eater was undeterred, even grinning at Harry’s victory over his colleague.

“Pott-air!” the man yelled in a thick German accent over the chaos, and Harry had no idea why.  He wasted no time thinking about it.

The man advanced on Harry with several killing curses in a row, causing Harry to dance on the spot and intercept another with his shield.  He prepared to go on the offensive when he sensed activity behind him.

Harry crouched sideways just in time to avoid weak blasting curses from two Ministry Aurors.  They had sneaked up behind him from within an abandoned storefront, and now Harry had opponents on both his left and right.

Irritated at this new development, he quickly turned around so that his wandless shield was facing the Death Eater.  Protecting himself on his left, he sent a furious hail of blasting and piercing curses at the Ministry Aurors.  One hit a wooden beam behind them and exploded with the force of a grenade.  It sent daggers of wooden shrapnel into their backs, and they shrieked and tried vainly to remove them.  Harry felled them both instantly with cutting curses to the neck.

His metal shield intercepted yet another killing curse from the Death Eater to his left, and Harry turned and muttered a piercing curse aimed directly at the man’s heart.

The man leapt to his left, dodging the curse, but screamed in agony as a blasting curse hit him in the back.  Blood and bone exploded out of his left side as he fell to his knees, and Harry finished him off with a piercing curse to the forehead.

He glanced over the fallen man to see Savage nodding at him.  Several seconds later, Harry’s team had dispensed with the initial attackers and were ready to move up the street.  McMurphy was bleeding from his head, but everyone else appeared to be unscathed.

A quick look down the hazy street showed the other teams to be alive and fighting.

Taking a moment to kneel and catch his breath, Harry concentrated and cast ‘serpensortia’ a dozen times.  He commanded his small army of snakes to move through the shadows and sneak up on any Death Eaters.  The snakes would not be able to inflict major damage, but they might be able to distract their enemies long enough to lend an advantage.

He glanced again through the haze and smoke, and thought he could make out the figure of Bellatrix Lestrange battling another of the teams from Bones Manor.

“Let’s go,” Harry said lowly, and the group followed Harry’s lead to their destination.

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Hogwarts Castle; the Grounds near the Forbidden Forest

Minerva McGonagall stepped out into the night air and waited for the rest of her team to assemble.  They had received word from Emmaline Vance a few minutes ago that Hogsmeade was under massive attack.  Her team was to exit from one of the side gates near the Forbidden Forest, then apparate to the outskirts of the village.

Joining her were Professors Flitwick, Sinistra, and Sprout, along with Sturgis Podmore and the fathers of two young Hogwarts students.  Another team, consisting of Kingsley Shacklebolt, Bill and Charlie Weasley, Dedalus Diggle, Hestia Jones, and Madam Hooch, had already left from the Astronomy Tower on brooms.

The Headmaster was still in his office, delivering orders at a rapid pace to the remaining Order members and preparing to leave himself.  McGonagall wondered just how he would arrive without Fawkes to transport him.

She did a quick head count in the darkness, then turned toward her destination, less than 200 meters away.

“Let’s go,” she said sternly, and her team spread out around her at a brisk jog.  Or as brisk as a team of such elderly fighters could handle.

They had traversed half the distance to their goal when a shout from behind caught her attention, bringing her up short.  She glanced behind her, and saw that her team members were staring in horror at the Forbidden Forest.

She followed their eyes and froze.

Flooding out of the forest was a black writhing mass of eyes, legs, and pincers.  Acromantulas.  Hundreds of them.  They were bearing down on her group at a ferocious pace, leaving no doubt about their intentions.

Suddenly Hagrid’s observation that the acromantulas were restless and drawing near to the castle took on a horrifying new clarity.  The Death Eaters must have bribed them to attack the Hogwarts ground on this night.

A single centaur was standing at the edge of the Forest and firing arrows into the teeming mass.

McGonagall stared in horror at the sight for a moment, then shook herself out of her stupor.  She knew without looking that the huge spiders would be able to cut off their path to the gate before they could get there.

She opened her mouth to order a hasty retreat to the castle, but was beaten by the sound of an unearthly war cry.

She turned to see Hagrid running toward them in a full sprint, his crossbow tied to his back and a massive battle axe in his arms.  He looked like a man possessed.  Beside him, floating on a magical carpet and grinning maniacally, was Alastor Moody.  He had taken to using the carpet after his encounter with Harry left him maimed.

“Go!” roared Moody.  “We’ll cover your exit!”

Her peripheral vision lit up with brightness, and she knew that Moody was sending concentrated fiendfyre into the ranks of the foul beasts.  The air was filled immediately with horrible shrieks and the smell of burning flesh as a conflagration began to tear through them.

“I’ll help them,” squeaked Flitwick, and began casting hasty banishing curses at the sea of massive arachnids that still sped toward them.

In a mere moment Hagrid had sprinted past her, screaming like a banshee, and swung his axe viciously into the legs of the closest spiders.  They gathered around his massive form immediately, but Professor Flitwick darted forward and cast a barrage of momentum arresting hexes at the spiders, slowing them down enough for Hagrid to wreak havoc.

He swung his axe with abandon, grunting and swearing profanely as he took off legs, heads, and eyes with the mighty axe.  One massive spider was cleaved in twain as Hagrid brought the full weight of the axe down on its skull.

“Take tha’, ya ruddy bastards!” he bellowed.  “Ye traitors to your da’!”

Flitwick giggled at little at the sight, and McGonagall shook her head in awe at the berserker rage that seemed to have possessed the bearded half-giant.  She turned her wand to the grass surrounding the spiders and silently transfigured it into sharp metal, the blades slicing into their legs like butter whenever they tried to move closer.

The screaming and shrieking of the dying spiders was a cacophony she hoped never to hear again.  Those closest to the forest saw the slaughter that was befalling their brothers, and began slowly inching their way back to the tree line.  They were cut off by Moody’s precisely placed fiendfyre and the accurate arrows that Firenze was still firing into their midst.

“We’ve got ‘em,” yelled Moody over the chaos.  “Go!”

“Aye!” McGonagall acknowledged, and moved quickly but carefully toward the gate.  There were a few spiders only forty feet away, and she and her team sent an array of explosive curses at them.

When they finally reached the gate, McGonagall held it open as everyone exited.  She spared one last glance at the castle, and saw several civilians trickle from the front door, looking as if they were preparing to follow her.  She had a sinking feeling that they would be needed.

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Outside Hogsmeade; The Shrieking Shack

While McGonagall was trying desperately to leave Hogwarts and render aid to Hogsmeade, another member of the Order was experiencing a different kind of desperation.  Remus Lupin, in werewolf form but somewhat tame due to the wolfsbane potion, prowled restlessly through the rooms of the Shrieking Shack, whining and growling at the sounds of violence coming from Hogsmeade.

The heart of the village was less than a mile from the shack, and he could hear the howls of other werewolves and the screams of civilians as hell broke loose there.

His worst fears had come to pass.  There was an attack on the full moon, and he was in no position to help.

Shame exploded within him.  Shame at his condition; at the life of despair and loneliness he had led; at being unable to help his colleagues and his mentor when they needed him.

Despite Dumbledore’s disappointment in him in recent months, Lupin’s loyalty to the man remained strong.  It was he, after all, who had allowed a young werewolf to attend Hogwarts.  It was he who supported him in the lean years after the first war, consoling him after James’ and Lily’s betrayal.  It was he who gave him a teaching position and a foothold in magical  society again.

He cursed in a language no human would understand, his howls echoing bitterly off the walls, and dug his claws helplessly into the wooden floor.

Then he stilled.

There.  That howl.  He recognized that howl.  That was Greyback.

Lupin had been working himself into such a frenzy of desperation and frustration that Greyback’s howl overrode his willingness to let the potion control him.

His blood boiling in rage, he hurled himself against the thin walls of the shack, shaking it to its foundation.  The spells that strengthened them had not been renewed in a very long time.  He continued until his shoulders, head, and muzzle were battered and bloody.

Finally, after minutes of undiluted fury, a loud crack echoed through the shack and he broke through.

Lupin charged out of the shack and sniffed the air urgently.  The smell of blood was thick in the air, and the sounds of screaming humans fed his blind animal frenzy.

He bounded down the hill that hosted the Shrieking Shack and raced to the outskirts of the village.  It took less than a minute for his powerful leaps to cover the distance.

He entered a square on the edge of the town and moved through it rapidly.  His nose led him to another werewolf almost immediately.  There, at the edge of the courtyard, was another of his kind, savagely mutilating the body of a man, ripping and tearing at his bloody remains.

Lupin did not even attempt to overpower the wolf’s instincts within him.

He growled in anticipation, and his fellow werewolf barely had time to look up before Lupin was upon him.  The two wolves rolled in the dust for a moment, but Lupin was larger and had the element of surprise.  One quick lunge and he had the other wolf by the throat.  One quick twist and it was over.

A sick snap followed the twist, and Lupin pulled a huge chunk of flesh from the wolf’s neck, covering his own snout in blood.  In a matter of seconds the wolf was dead, its tainted blood pouring from the wound in its neck.

He spit out the hunk of bloody flesh and howled loudly at the moon.  For the first time in his life, at least as far as he knew, Lupin had killed while in werewolf form.  And it felt good.

He wasted no time celebrating his kill.  His snout and coat now covered in blood, he bounded closer to the main thoroughfare and the thick of the fighting.

One block later, he encountered another werewolf.  It was throwing itself furiously against the wooden door of a cottage, desperate to gain access to the humans behind it.  Lupin’s sensitive ears could hear the whimpering of a woman behind the door.

He growled threateningly, and the wolf turned and looked at him.  It was huge and brown, its coat slicked down with blood and dirt, and it sensed that Lupin was a threat immediately.

It faced him and growled menacingly, and Lupin noted with triumph that it was already injured.  Its right front paw was bloody and ruined, and it limped pitifully with every step.

Suddenly it lunged.

Lupin was unprepared for such quick movement from wounded prey, and darted to the side in surprise.  The bulky form of the injured wolf landed where he had just been, but he hadn’t exited the space quickly enough.

The jaws of the enemy wolf snapped with superhuman speed and gripped him by the thigh, its jaws tearing a bloody streak into the gray of his fur.

He howled in rage and pain and snapped back at the wolf, tearing off part of its tail and leaving a bloody gash along its haunches.  It was enough to loosen its hold on his thigh, and Lupin turned and leapt in fury on his wounded foe.

He aimed for the tender flesh of the neck, but his enemy was fast.  It turned its head toward him at the last second, and Lupin’s jaws closed around the other wolf’s jaws in an absurd mockery of a kiss.  They snapped at each other as they rolled in the dirt, finally coming to rest with Lupin on top of the larger wolf.

Enraged, he grabbed the other wolf’s muzzle in his snout and bit down hard, earning a shriek of pain and terror.  The other wolf shook violently, trying to remove Lupin’s death grip, but Lupin’s jaws clamped down even harder on his whimpering foe.

His enemy prone and at his mercy, Lupin began digging furiously with his razor-sharp claws.  They tore through the fur of his opponent and made mince of the tough hide beneath.  His prey whimpered helplessly as Lupin dug with everything he had, using all four paws on his opponent’s belly and thighs.

In seconds the large brown wolf was torn to shreds, its viscera expelled from its body.  It stopped struggling, and Lupin finally released his hold its muzzle.

He took a step back to observe his fallen prey, and howled in victory at the sight of the ravaged body beneath him.

One block over, his victory cry caught the attention of another wolf.

While Lupin celebrated, a massive grey wolf with flecks of black in its fur stepped out of the shadows and observed him.  Its muzzle was soaked with blood and its eyes were a sickly, feral yellow.

A moment later Lupin noticed its presence, and the two wolves stopped moving and stared into each other’s eyes.

They were eyes that he would recognize anywhere.  He had seen them every day of his life.

Greyback.

This was the creature who had damned him so many years ago.  This was the creature who had cursed him to a life half-lived.

The two wolves observed each other for another moment, then leapt in blind rage from their positions.  They collided violently in mid-air, and both fell to the ground in a snarling pile of teeth, fur, and claws.

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Hogsmeade; the main thoroughfare

Harry, Tonks, Burns, and Savage spread out across the street as they slowly moved forward.  McMurphy had split from the group to aid another team from Bones Manor that had taken casualties.

Many of the businesses that flanked them were on fire.  Harry had shivered at the sound of the screaming owls when they passed the burning post office.  The four of them had started several fires of their own, intent on taking away sniping hideouts from hidden Death Eaters.

The air was hazy with smoke, limiting visibility, and the sounds of battle came from every direction.  Harry and his team cautiously navigated the only bend on Hogsmeade’s main street, and the smoke cleared for a moment before them.

There, only fifty feet away, was his goal.

Bellatrix Lestrange was standing above a downed fighter from the Order that he didn’t recognize.  Flanking her were her husband and three other Death Eaters, one of whom was clearly Vincent Crabbe’s father.  Harry glanced cautiously around, and saw an entire team from Bones Manor lying dead in the street.

Bellatrix fired a killing curse into the prone body at her feet, then turned and smiled at Harry.  It was as if she had been waiting for him.

Harry had to resist the urge to rush forward and kill her with his bare hands.  He expected her to begin taunting him at any moment, but it never came.  There would be no baby talk this time.  She and her comrades turned to fire on Harry and his group just as they cast their own vicious spells.

Tonks and Savage moved to intercept Rodolphus and two other Death Eaters, while Bellatrix and a thin Death Eater beside her focused on Harry and his floating shield.

He was used to fighting against two opponents, and he knew where to concentrate his attention.  He deftly dodged the spells of the male Death Eater while keeping a close eye on Bellatrix.

He cast a silent piercing charm at the male Death Eater without looking away from her, and was gratified when he fell as if his strings had been cut.

“Rosier, you fool, get up!” Bellatrix hissed, slightly alarmed at the prospect of fighting Harry one-on-one.

But Rosier didn’t move, and Harry knew he would never move again.

He maneuvered to his left, and jumped a little in surprise when a huge crater suddenly appeared in the street between him and his nemesis, nearly knocking Bellatrix off her feet.  She recovered quickly and fired a killing curse straight up into the air, then desperately dodged the pair of blasting curses that Harry had sent at her.

A piercing curse followed quickly, and this time Harry’s aim was true.  The spell, nearly unblockable coming from him, pierced her left shoulder near the joint, and she hissed in pain and stumbled.

Harry, sensing victory, moved to finish her, but his concentration was suddenly broken.

A robed figure on a broom literally fell from the sky three feet in front of him, bouncing loudly when he struck the ground.  Harry blinked in surprise, and Bellatrix used the opportunity to recover and move back on the offensive.

“Avada Kedavra! Avada Kedavra!” she screamed, directing both spells with deadly accuracy.

Harry moved his shield before him to block the first curse, and stepped out of the way of the second.  He hastily projected another shield in front of him, but didn’t get the chance to attack her.

Yet another killing curse flew at him, this one nearly grazing his chin, and Harry stepped back in shock.  It had come from a burned out building to his left, but no opponent was visible.

He couldn’t afford to fight against Bellatrix and some invisible foe.  Levitating his shield before Bellatrix, Harry swept his wand toward the building and sent the strongest blasting curses he could muster at the front façade of the building and its awning.

The bricks groaned and crumbled in on themselves from the force of the blast.  The front half of the building collapsed in a loud rumble, and the falling awning sent up a cloud of dust thirty feet into the air.

Harry used the momentary cloud of debris to catch his breath.  He couldn’t tell how the rest of his team was faring, but for the moment he was focused solely on Bellatrix.  He knew if he could just keep her on the defensive, he would eventually win.  She wouldn’t be able to withstand the power of his spells indefinitely.

When the air cleared, he cast a slicing curse at her dark figure, but found that she had beaten him to the punch.  A jagged, purple beam sizzled through the air at him, and he dodged desperately to the side.  He wasn’t quite fast enough.

Harry winced and swore violently as part of Bellatrix’ curse ripped into his side.  It suddenly felt cold and wet to him, and he knew that she had succeeded in cutting him open.  There was no time to worry about it.

Levitating his shield before him, he blocked another slicing curse from Bellatrix and focused all of his concentration on spell-chaining.  It was time to end this.  Pretending that it was a training exercise, he mentally ticked off the spells as he flicked and arced his wand, intent on slicing the bitch to ribbons.

Confringo—percutio—lacero—confringo—percutio…he muttered to himself mentally, unconsciously protecting himself with the shield as he continued his assault.

Bellatrix batted his first two spells out of her way, and dodged the third.  She was forced to block the next one, and the one that followed pushed her back several feet.  Her shield finally wavered.

There—Harry saw his opening and took it.  He interrupted the spell chain and launched a reducto curse at her chest.  Bellatrix’ eyes widened as she saw the approaching spell, knowing she had no way to defend against it and no time to dodge.

In an unconscious effort to save herself, she raised her left hand in front of her body.  The spell collided with it in an explosion of red, blowing her arm into a fine mist past her elbow.

The blast threw her to the ground, and she stared incredulously at the sight of her missing arm.

Harry crowed inwardly.  He had her.  She was going to die.  He ignored the temptation to gloat and immediately sent another blaster at her head, desperate to finish her off.

“No!” he screamed, as a huge chunk of burning debris flew through the air and intercepted the curse.

Harry looked beyond Bellatrix to see an apparition in black robes literally floating to the ground twenty meters behind her.  He had a moment to register that this was Lord Voldemort himself before everything changed.

The Dark Lord hissed and whipped his wand across his body, and a wind stronger than any hurricane suddenly blasted through the main street of the village.

Harry’s reflexes allowed him to cast a wanded shield at the last second, but it hardly mattered.  The unnatural wind lifted him off his feet and sent him flying through the air.  He was tossed over thirty feet, sent careening through an open window into a burning building.

The rest of his team shared his fate.  Tonks flew through the air and landed on her back in front of Gladrags, knocked unconscious by the collision with the ground.  Savage screamed in agony as he was pushed headlong into a wooden kiosk and landed awkwardly on his leg.  Burns, unluckiest of all, was flung flat on his back in the middle of the street.

He looked up just in time to see the curse that would end his life.  A flick of the Dark Lord’s wand emitted a sickly yellow beam that struck him in the stomach before he could shield himself.  Burns stared down in horror as his entrails were expelled violently from his body, leaving a bloody, gaping hole where his abdomen should have been.  He was dead seconds later.

Harry shook his head within the burning building where he had been tossed and tried to breathe.  He had landed hard on his back, nearly collapsing his lungs, and the air inside was thick with smoke.  He looked down in horror at the sight of a foot-long iron nail sticking through his thigh.

He couldn’t feel any pain yet, and was so shocked by the force of Voldemort’s spell that he couldn’t quite grasp his situation; he had been literally nailed to the floor of a burning, collapsing building.

A soft pop echoed in front of him, and he looked up in confusion at Dobby.

“Harry Potter must be getting up now!” the little elf screamed, absolutely beside himself.  “Up now!”

He pointed a finger and Harry found himself being levitated roughly off the nail which had impaled his thigh.  He hissed in pain as it withdrew from his body, but the sensation cleared his head.

Dobby set him down and watched fearfully as he hacked and coughed and tried to regain his breath.

“Thanks, D-Dobby,” Harry rasped out, suddenly realizing how hot it was inside the building, and that he was being roasted alive.

Dobby nodded furiously.  “Harry Potter Sir must be leaving now!  He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named is here!  Dobby can feel him!”

“I know,” Harry coughed, wincing as he applied a cauterizing charm to the front and rear of his thigh.  He numbed the area as best he could so it wouldn’t inhibit his mobility.

“Thanks, Dobby, but I’m going back out there.”

Dobby wailed and pulled on his ears, but did not try to argue with his Master.  He popped away to watch from a safer distance.

Harry stumbled out of the burning building, a metal shield levitated before him, and shook his head.  His vision was blurry, despite the fact that he didn’t need his glasses this evening.  Voldemort was still standing in the middle of the street, and by his side was Bellatrix Lestrange.  Still alive, still fighting, and looking miraculously whole.

Harry watched her fire off a curse in disbelief, then she turned to the side and he saw a gleam of silver.  He should have guessed.  The Dark Lord had restored her destroyed arm the same way he had restored Pettigrew’s sacrificed hand.  The bitch was whole again and free to wreak havoc.

He looked around in panic, doing his best to remain unnoticed, and saw that more Death Eaters had joined Voldemort from the north.  He tried to find the other members of his team, and his eyes quickly found the bodies of Burns, and, to his horror, Savage.

The young Auror was lying in front of a destroyed kiosk, one leg twisted at an unnatural angle, and his blood was pooled around him.  Lying in the street in front of him were the bodies of Rodolphus Lestrange and another Death Eater.  It appeared as though the two had cornered the wounded Savage and paid a heavy price.

His eyes traveled across the street, and there, in front of Gladrags, he saw Tonks.  Crabbe Sr. was levitating her off the ground, preparing to bring her body to his comrades.  Harry couldn’t tell whether she was alive or dead, but this was an indignity he would not stand for.

Kneeling in the street, he sent a precisely-aimed blasting curse at Crabbe’s back.  It flew with deadly accuracy, and there was a horrifying crack as it landed.  Crabbe screamed and dropped Tonks to the ground, then collapsed in agony, his back broken and his internal organs pulverized.

Harry turned his attention back to the gathered Death Eaters, expecting a vicious retaliation aimed at him.  He was surprised when it didn’t come.

Instead, the Death Eaters broke ranks as dozens of curses poured into them from the south end of the town.  They shielded and returned fire, and Harry stared in astonishment as dozens of small animals sprinted through the street and latched onto their robes, ankles, and hands.

At first he thought he was hallucinating, but a second look confirmed that his eyes were not lying to him.  A small army of kneazles, not much bigger than housecats, were bounding among the ranks of the Death Eaters and latching on to them with claws and teeth.  He glanced behind him, and saw that Professor McGonagall was directing this army of transfigured cats while her colleagues took advantage of the distracted Death Eaters.

Professors Flitwick, Sprout, and Sinistra, along with several people Harry didn’t know, were sending deadly curses into their ranks.  Harry watched in amazement as a Death Eater was pulverized by a blasting curse, his last action a vain attempt to shake a screeching cat from his wand hand.

Voldemort glared at McGonagall and pointed his wand at the ground beneath her feet.  A whirlwind of dirt and sand rose from beneath her and threatened to trap her legs.  She was unable to move away, but she desperately transfigured the dirt into water as Professor Sprout shielded them both.  A hail of curses from furious Death Eaters threatened to tear down the shield at any second.

Voldemort flicked his wand in Flitwick’s direction, and the former champion duelist raised a shield in front of a grey bolt, expecting some sort of impact.  He was surprised when it hovered in mid-air, just beyond his shield, and exploded.

A cloud of poisonous black air suddenly engulfed him, and Flitwick screamed and fell to the ground, desperate for fresh air.  He rolled to his right and disillusioned himself just as three spells tore up the ground where he had just been.

Everything seemed to be happening at once, and Harry knew he had to rejoin the fight.  He could not expect to remain unnoticed forever.  He took a deep breath to calm himself and focused on what he had been training to do.  He crouched low, his shield before him, and began a spell-chained sequence directly at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord, somehow aware of the danger he was in, batted the first spell away casually, not even deigning to look in the direction of the caster.  The second, third, and fourth spells caught his attention.

The fifth consecutive spell from Harry was a piercing curse aimed at the man’s head, and Voldemort stepped to the side as it grazed his cheek, drawing blood.

Time seemed to stop, and he narrowed his eyes at Harry, who was still casting a relentless stream of curses at him.

He batted Harry’s last volley to the ground and then raised his wand.

“Oh shit,” Harry muttered, and dropped into a defensive crouch.

A bolt of sizzling white energy flew through the air at him, and he threw himself to the ground to avoid it.  It flew into the burning building behind him and exploded in a massive blast, sending debris raining into the street.

Harry got back to his feet and levitated his shield before him, just in time to catch the first of three killing curses.  His shield exploded brightly at the second hit, and third nearly grazed him as he danced awkwardly to avoid it.

He returned two quick blasting curses of his own, but the Dark Lord conjured an emblazoned metal shield.  It took the blasts from Harry’s wand without a scratch.

Thinking furiously, Harry levitated yet another of his shields before him and began sending very precise piercing curses at Voldemort.  They collided with Voldemort’s shield with a high-pitched whine, momentarily pushing him back, and the Dark Lord glanced at Harry in surprise.  Then he smiled.

Harry swore inwardly.  He was dueling the Dark Lord himself, one-on-one, and he was losing.  He could feel it.  His spells were powerful, but not powerful enough.

The man was enjoying himself.

He sent a flurry of killing curses at Harry, and Harry was forced to use another wandless shield on them.

No sooner would he levitate a new shield before him than a killing curse from the Dark Lord, aimed so precisely that he could not dodge it, would destroy it.  Three shields were gone in twenty seconds, and Harry realized desperately that he was unable to go on the offensive.

“Goodbye, Harry Potter,” Voldemort said almost casually over the din, and a torrent of black fire leapt from his wand at Harry.

Harry dove quickly to his left, but the fire seemed to be following him.  It seemed to be alive.  He had no choice but to shield.

Harry raised a fortus aegis shield in a desperate attempt to deflect the fire as it came upon him.  He closed his eyes and leaned into it, hoping against hope that it would hold.

It held, but the fire quickly engulfed the shield and flowed around it, licking at his exposed skin and setting his robes on fire.

Harry screamed in agony, knowing that he would die if he did nothing, but not knowing what else to do.  He could smell himself burning.

Later he would not have been able to explain his actions, save that he wanted to get the fire away from him, but he shrieked and pushed at the shield with his left hand as hard as he could.

His wandless magic, aided by fear and desperation, banished it directly at Voldemort.  The Dark Lord was forced to stop his spell to block the shield racing at him, and Harry fell over in relief as the black fire abated.  He cast a thick spray of water on his burning robes, putting them out in a hiss of steam, and looked up at Voldemort.

The Dark Lord was pointing his wand at him again, and Harry rolled backwards to avoid the entrail-expelling curse that flew at him.  Another curse followed, and this one landed next to him in the street, kicking up huge chunks of stone and dirt and filling his mouth and eyes with dust.

Harry coughed violently on the ground, trying to clear his head, and instinctively raised a shield with his wand.  He felt a massive concussion against it an instant later.  He opened his eyes tearfully and saw Voldemort unleash a torrent of blasting and piercing curses at him, the enraged Dark Lord no longer bothering with the more complex and showy spells.

The Dark Lord was walking toward him, literally pushing him toward the wall of the burning building behind him with the force of his spells.  The onslaught was so fast and relentless that he could neither rise from the ground nor retaliate.

Harry could barely see from the dirt in his eyes, but he maintained his shield defiantly before him.  Any moment he expected the killing blow to come.  He was genuinely shocked when the Dark Lord’s barrage suddenly stopped.

Relieved beyond measure, he rolled to his right into an alley next to the burning building, desperate for cover.  He flushed his eyes and face with water, and filled his lungs with great gasps of air.

He was injured, he knew, but he wasn’t sure how badly.  His side was bleeding and his head hurt, and his body felt unbelievably cold despite the heat of the fire that had just engulfed him.  His whole frame shook, and it scared him.

Peering around the corner of the alley, he tried to take stock of the situation.

The Death Eaters were still fighting with the Order, and it appeared that ordinary people from Hogwarts were starting to join the battle against them.  Voldemort was standing thirty feet away from him and glaring balefully down the middle of the street, ignoring the chaos around him.

Harry followed his gaze, and for the first time in a long time he was happy to see the figure of Albus Dumbledore.

The old man was wearing robes of glimmering silver and observing the scene almost casually.  He glanced at Harry for a moment, taking in his battered and burnt appearance, but his expression was unreadable as he returned his attention to Voldemort.

“Hello, Tom,” he intoned gravely over the noise.

“You die tonight, you self-righteous fool,” the Dark Lord hissed, and raised his wand.

“We shall see,” Dumbledore answered calmly, and readied his own wand.

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A/N: Cliffhanger alert.  Sorry about that. :)  The chapter was already approaching 11k words, and I needed to end it somewhere.  The next chapter is partly written, and I’ll do my best to have it out ASAP.  Hope you enjoyed the fighting, the werewolves, and the belly dancing.  It was a blast to write.

Yes, I know Harry got his ass handed to him by Voldemort, but he’s not done fighting yet.  Plus, did you really expect him to defeat the Dark Lord in a one-on-one duel when he’s already tired and injured?

Thanks to Voice of the Nephilim, scaryisntit, Vikingfn0926, and Heather Sinclair for their valuable feedback on the chapter outline.