Avalon - Chapter 60 - Rallying

Rallying

Despite it being far into the British summer, the afternoon was a dreary one, and the rain fell heavily, pitter-pattering on the windows of Grimmauld Place.

“It’s bloody pissing down,” Sirius grumbled as he peered outside, “and those gits are back again.”

Morgana nodded.

“They came back not long after they fled,” she explained. “I expect the Dark Lord wasn’t happy with them abandoning their posts.”

“He’s a miserable git,” Sirius snorted, “but I do wonder what good he could’ve done for the world had he not been such a bastard.”

Morgana frowned thoughtfully.

She’d not considered such but had done so for herself.

Had she not met Harry, it was difficult to say where she would be now or what she’d be doing, but with all they had gathered since being here, she knew she could make quite the difference to many upon their return.

The potions knowledge and healing magic she’d acquired could save many lives from such things that were considered rather trivial here but were deadly back home.

She even suspected she may have been able to save Rowena, or at least delay her death significantly with all she’d learned.

Still, she knew it would do no good dwelling on what could’ve been but wasn’t.

“I don’t know,” she said with a shrug. “Some people are just born rotten, or they take a path that leads them away from what they could’ve been. Riddle is rotten to the core, and only wishes to see others as miserable as he has always been. The mere thought of anyone being happy is an affront to him, and he lacks the morality and self-control to leave them be.”

“You think he is jealous?”

“He’s a very envious person,” Morgana replied confidently. “He cannot stand the thought of not having what he wants. He feels entitled, that the world owes him a great debt, and yet he fears the same end that we will all eventually meet.”

Sirius nodded his agreement but gasped as the ethereal crow appeared in between.

‘Gather everyone you can and get to Hogwarts as quickly as possible.’

It was an ominous message, and one that bore only the worst of unspoken news.

Harry would not send for all unless it was so deeply urgent, and Morgana immediately stood.

“What do you think is happening?” Sirius asked.

“Nothing good,” Morgana sighed. “It never is, is it?”

Sirius released a deep breath as he began sending his own patronuses, and in only a matter of moments, the first members of the Order of the Phoenix began arriving, none any the wiser than Morgana or Sirius as to what had transpired for Harry to request their presence in such a way.

(Break)

Being in hiding was as dull as it was frustrating.

Amelia was used to arriving early at the office, and not leaving sometimes until late in the evening for only a few hours of rest before returning to the Ministry.

It had become her habit for several years since Susan no longer needed her around so much, and in truth, was a continuation of how she’d come to live her life upon entering the Auror academy after finishing at Hogwarts.

She’d dedicated her life to the Ministry.

Instead of getting married and having children of her own, she’d done all she could to keep wizarding Britain safe.

Amelia had spent the coldest and wettest nights, and hottest, driest days patrolling Diagon Alley, Hogsmeade, and even Knockturn Alley where she’d been assaulted, spat on, and heckled endlessly.

She’d fought against the Dark lord from the beginning to the very end of the first war where she’d seen those she’d cared deeply for perish at the hands of the monster and his followers, and when he’d vanished, she’d continued doing so when many had decided they could no longer do the job.

Amelia had clawed herself up the ranks, building a reputation for herself, and being a role model to a niece she was raising, and now, she found herself stowed away in a borrowed property because her own had been burnt to the ground.

She could only shake her head as she watched the raging storm outside.

In many ways, she was proud of what she’d done, and in others, she could not help but feel that it all just may have been a waste of time.

‘It will all get better. You always told me the terrible times cannot last forever.’

Susan’s words brought a half-smile to her lips.

The girl had made Amelia proud with how well she was managing to cope with all that had happened.

Perhaps experiencing for herself the utter devastation of war had given her a new lease on life, or, as Amelia suspected, she had merely grown into being a fine young woman; something that had mostly passed her by from how much she had missed over the years.

“Merlin,” she gasped, taking a step back as a patronus in the form of a crow arrived.

‘We will need you and all of the Aurors you can bring at Hogwarts. He’s coming for the school.’

Amelia froze for a moment in horror as the words Potter had spoken played over in her mind several times before she released a deep breath and sent the alert.

As much as the very thought of the Dark Lord attacking the school was a preposterous one, she could not ignore it.

“Auntie, what is happening?” Susan asked as she entered the room with Cedric.

“It appears as though he’s going to attack Hogwarts,” Amelia answered honestly.

Susan was immediately horrified by the explanation, and Cedric frowned deeply.

“I have to go, Susan. The Aurors will need me to lead them.”

The young woman nodded her understanding, and Amelia placed a kiss on her nieces cheek.

“I will keep you informed of what is happening,” she promised.

“Do you think he can take it?” Susan asked worriedly.

“I do not know,” Amelia replied sombrely. “Let us hope not.”

(Break)

The smoke from the Hog’s Head continued to linger above the village in the distance, and Harry continued to watch it with a keen eye, expecting to see the Dark Mark break through at any given moment.

It didn’t, and he knew why.

Riddle did not wish to draw any more attention to himself than he already had because his failed plan to killed Aberforth would now go beyond that attempt since the man had managed to elude him.

The only thing that made sense was that he would seize the opportunity before him and attempt to take Hogwarts for himself.

“What makes you so sure he is coming?” McGonagall asked worriedly.

“Because it is exactly what Harry would do,” Morgana answered as she entered the Hospital Wing with Sirius and Remus in tow.

Harry nodded his agreement.

“I would,” he confirmed, offering his wife a smile despite the dire situation they would soon find themselves in.

She returned the gesture and gave his shoulder a squeeze.

“The others are coming,” she assured him.

“As is Bones with the Aurors.”

“Do you think this might be it?”

Harry shook his head.

“No, not with everything else still unresolved, but he will want Hogwarts enough to throw everything he has at us. We need to get Albus awake, so we must keep him out.”

“You have some ideas.”

“Several,” Harry answered. “We must use all the time we have, but I need you here with him,” he added, nodding towards the unmoving headmaster. “I know you cannot rush, and we will do all we can, but you need to get started. I will see what I can do around the grounds and castle. Professor, have you gathered the members of staff?”

“I have,” the pale Deputy Headmistress confirmed. “Argus and Hagrid will accompany you around the grounds and castle, and the others and I will be doing what we can. He will not get in so easily, Potter.”

Harry nodded.

“Then let us prepare,” he urged. “We cannot spare a moment. When Bones arrives, have her and the Aurors gather in the Great Hall.”

McGonagall nodded before taking her leave from the Hospital Wing, and Harry placed a kiss on Morgana’s lips.

“It will be fine. We will find a way.”

“You always do,” morgana said with a weak smile before shifting her attention to the ashen-faced Aberforth.

“Are you ready?” she asked the man, who merely nodded in response.

Harry followed Professor McGonagall, unsure of what they would inevitably be facing, and with dozens of ideas running through his mind at how he might just turn the situation to his advantage now and in the future.

(Break)

“My Lord, do you think it is wise to wait so long?” Barty asked as he approached from the burning remains of the Hog’s Head.

A small group of Aurors had arrived to investigate the fire but had been dispatched by the Dark Lord.

Since then, the village had emptied quickly, leaving only Lord Voldemort and his followers.

“We will need all the help we can get, Barty,” the Dark Lord answered. “There are more secrets within the castle than you can imagine. We will need the Dementors, the giants, and the werewolves if we are to succeed.”

Barty merely nodded in response, whilst the two of them watched the castle in the distance.

Nothing seemed amiss or out of the ordinary, but within the structure, chaos would be ensuing.

Still, it wouldn’t be enough.

There were few who perhaps knew the castle better than the Dark Lord himself, and the one who might would not recover in time to prevent what was coming.

No, Dumbledore would be all but useless, and with many of the protections down for the time being, the time was ripe to take Hogwarts for himself.

If it belonged to anyone, it was Lord Voldemort.

The very foundations of the castle were in his blood.

He winced once more as he pondered the legacy of his ancestor, but he chose to ignore it in favour of keeping vigil over his birth right.

Soon enough, it would be his once more, and he would be one step closer to Britain being fully under his control.

If he timed everything right, he could truly have both the Ministry and education system in hand in one fell swoop.

“Where is Greyback?” he asked Barty.

“Leading the others into position. They will attack from the forest. Wormtail knows a way to get them in.”

The Dark Lord nodded.

“And we will follow their lead,” he declared. “I will destroy any defences they have, and we will swarm the castle with Dementors and the giants before overwhelming whatever paltry resistance they have managed to muster.”

“And Potter, my lord?”

Lord Voldemort’s expression darkened at the mention of the young man.

“Potter is mine, Barty. That hasn’t changed.”

“of course, my lord. I will inform the others.”

The Dark Lord said nothing and chose to revel in the anticipation of the impending battle.

It would be one for the ages, and an event that would secure his legacy for years to come.

When Hogwarts was his, he would be able to educate the next generation of witches and wizards into his way of thinking, and when the time was right, his power and influence would spread wherever he desired.

For now, he would be content with Britain, but soon enough, others would come into the fold, and the magical world would finally be where it belonged; at the very top of society where the lesser men and women would bow down to his superiority.

(Break)

In all his years at Hogwarts, even during the debacle that had been. The opening of the Chamber of Secrets when he’d been only a student, Hagrid had never felt he was truly in danger, but with his former fellow student lurking just outside of the castle and Dumbledore in no state to protect the school, he could not deny he felt nervous.

He had faith in Harry and his ability to keep them safe, but it wasn’t the same as the headmaster taking the helm.

The protections around Hogwarts were as old as the castle itself and required the headmaster to use them to their full effect.

Without them, Hogwarts was vulnerable, but Hagrid would not see it taken or destroyed without a fight.

“They won’t risk coming across the lake,” Harry murmured, pulling Hagrid from his maudlin musings. “It’s too risky, and he knows he’d lose too many that way.”

Hagrid nodded his agreement.

“They will come through the front gates, I imagine, and maybe the bridge to the west.”

“That can be prevented easily enough. My concern is the forest.”

“The forest?”

Harry nodded grimly as he looked towards the trees.

“There are ways in from the outside, and we cannot rely on the creatures to stop what might come through there.”

“I didn’t think of that,” Hagrid said ashamedly. “How can we…?”

“We can’t,” Harry broke in with a shrug, “but we can make it harder for them when they make it on the other side. I have a few ideas for that, but the real problem will be the Dementors.”

“You don’t think…”

“I do,” Harry sighed, “along with whatever else he has managed to lure into his service.”

“The giants.”

“Giants?”

Hagrid nodded darkly.

“Not long after what happened during the tournament, Dumbledore sent me to the continent to seek them out, you know, with me being like them. Well, we found them alright, me and Olympe, but we weren’t the only ones there.”

“Riddle?”

“Macnair. He was there trying to recruit them, and the giants left with him. They haven’t been seen, Harry. But I’d bet they’re around here somewhere.”

“How many?”

Twenty or thirty.”

“Well, shit,” Harry huffed, evidently wracking his brains for a solution. “Well, we’d best prepare for that eventuality as best we can too.”

Hagrid nodded his agreement and wondered just how they could fend off so many giants.

He had seen the devastation they wrought upon each other.

They were far from being the friendliest creatures, and the diplomacy skills were all but non-existent.

Harry, however, seemed to be calm enough as he pondered the latest problem they faced, and even nodded to himself a few times.

“Do you think the centaurs would help, or even Aragog?”

Hagrid swallowed the lump that formed in his throat and shook his head.

“Aragog died, Harry, a little over a year ago now. He was old, even for a marvellous creature like him. Without Aragog, the other spiders, well, they don’t like me coming around much.”

The young man gave his forearm a sympathetic squeeze.

“I’m sorry, Hagrid,” he offered sincerely. “I know how much he meant to you.”

“It’s alright,” Hagrid sighed. “It broke my heart, but he’s in a better place now. The centaurs might help. I can always see Firenze.”

Harry nodded.

“Do it,” he urged, “and quickly. If there is anything in there waiting, it would be best not to run into it.”

“You don’t need to worry about me, Harry. I can handle myself. You just get old Filch to tell you what you need to know. I expect even he will want to help you out.”

Harry nodded appreciatively, and Hagrid head towards his humble home to gather his crossbow, and the little pink umbrella he should not be in possession of.

He wasn’t much of a fighter with a wand in his hand, but he’d learned more than enough during his years in the forest.

(Break)

She checked her work for the umpteenth time, ensuring that the blood from the older Dumbledore sibling was draining at the same rate as Aberforth’s was being introduced, and Morgana breathed a sigh of relief before handing the latter another blood replenishing potion.

The work itself was tedious enough, but it required the utmost concentration.

Even the most minor of errors could be disastrous, but thus far, all seemed to b going according to plan; perhaps the only thing that had done so in a number of days.

Still, it was not over yet, but Morgana was hopeful and confident in her calculations.

“We’re around halfway through,” she declared as she took note of another measurement of blood. “How’re you feeling?”

Aberforth was pale, but he waved her off dismissively.

“Well enough,” he said gruffly, drinking more of the potion Morgana had handed him. “If it saves his life, it’ll be worth it.”

He had nothing kind to say about his brother, but Morgana could see he cared for the man, even if he did his best to hide it.

His entire demeanour had changed as he’d looked upon the unmoving Albus, and he’d wasted no time in insisting they begin the moment the preparations had been completed.

They’d been at it for a little over an hour when the door opened, and a frowning Harry entered.

“What is it?” Morgana asked.

He shook his head tiredly.

“Everything,” he sighed, rubbing his eyes. “We may need to change our plans a little. As soon as you are done here, I need you in the forest.”

“Why the forest?”

“Because I expect Riddle will try to send something through there,” Harry answered. “If there’s anyone who can delay it, or even stop it, it’s you. We just don’t know what that might be. It won’t be the Dementors, and I doubt he would use the giants for that. He will want them at the front of his forces.”

“What else could it be?”

“Werewolves,” Aberforth grunted. “It’s the full moon tonight, and he used Greyback last time.”

“Greyback?” Harry pressed.

“A nasty piece of work,” Aberforth said grimly. “He leads the biggest pack of werewolves in Europe, and he’s every bit a wolf as he is a man. A vicious bastard in both forms and wanted in every just about every country on the continent.”

“And he’s working with Riddle.”

Aberforth nodded.

Harry could only shake his head, and Morgana gave his hand a comforting squeeze.

“He’s not met me yet,” she said with a grin. “If he’s going to come through the forest, he will be in for quite the shock, but I will need a little time to prepare.”

“Go,” Harry encouraged. “I still need to speak with Bones. Filch is with Sirius closing off the entrances Wormtail will know of. I’m sure Madam Pomfrey can handle this.”

The healer nodded, and Morgana left the Hospital Wing to return to the forest she’d called home for several years.

No one knew it better than her, and if any wished to pass through it, they would not do so easily.

She would ensure Greyback regretted attempting to unleash his werewolves on them.

(Break)

“Are we even sure he’s coming here?” Dawlish huffed irritably.

He was nervously pacing back and forth in front of one of the fireplaces within the Great Hall, his gaze shifting towards the enchanted ceiling sporadically.

“He’s coming,” Amelia said grimly.

She could feel it in the air, that nervous tension that filled all before an inevitable confrontation happened.

It was oddly the a similar mood that came over the Aurors on a Quidditch day when two rivals would meet, only this time it would not be drunk fools throwing punches and the occasional hex, it would be men and women attempting to kill them to gain control of the school.

“We have a problem.”

Amelia rolled her eyes as she followed Potter away from the gather Aurors.

“Of course we do,” she huffed.

Potter shook his head.

“It’s the full moon tonight.”

Amelia swallowed deeply at the memories of the previous war when the Dark Lord would send the werewolves out to terrorise the country.

She’d been in more than one tangle with them herself, but it was the aftermath of the attacks that had stuck with her.

Bloodstained streets, errant limbs, and broken families…

That was all that could be expected after such nights had passed.

“Greyback,” she whispered.

Potter nodded.

“I expect they will come through the forest, but Morgana is in there waiting for them. She will stop as many as she can, but we must be prepared for their arrival.”

“Any ideas?” Amelia asked.

“A few, which I plan to begin preparing immediately, but it will take a little time. We can expect the Dementors, and several giants too.”

Amelia could only shake her head.

“Potter, we do not have the numbers to win such a fight.”

“No, but we have the castle,” he pointed out. “We will make do. We may not be able to defeat them absolutely, but we can keep them out of Hogwarts. I suggest you have the Aurors set up on the battlements to begin with. It will be safer for them up there.”

“But the fighting will be happening in the grounds.”

“It will, and I will need them to move when the time is right. I will fire up red sparks when they should do so.”

“What are you planning, Potter?”

“Many things, Madam Bones, most of which being things you would likely have me arrested for under any other circumstances. Now, I need to take a quick trip to the dungeons, and then one more place before they arrive. I would move your Aurors soon.”

Before she could reply, Potter left the Great Hall, and Amelia found herself uncertain at how the evening would end, but one thing was for sure.

Either Riddle would find a way to take the castle, or he would be violently repelled.

Amelia knew what she would prefer, but the execution of a plan was never done smoothly, and she prepared herself to face the inevitable unexpected developments as they unfolded around her and her Aurors.

(Break)

It had taken some time for the sound of hooves to reach him after Hagrid had enter the forest. Usually, Bane or Firenze would accost him only moments after he’d wandered amongst the trees, partly to ensure that it was him and not a wayward student trespassing on their home, but to also remind him of that very fact.

“It is not safe to roam the forest, Hagrid, especially on such a night to come,” Firenze murmured as he came to a halt in front of him, his hooves pawing the ground irritably.

“That’s the reason I’m here. Vol-the Dark Lord is going to attack the castle.”

Firenze did not flinch at the revelation, and his gaze shifted towards the sky.

“Indeed,” he whispered. “His agents are already here. We have been watching them, Hagrid. They are men, but they will not remain so when the sun sets.”

Hagrid frowned and turned sharply to aim his crossbow at a disturbance behind him.

“Werewolves,” Morgana announced as she made herself known. “Many werewolves,” she added quietly.

“Werewolves?” Hagrid said nervously.

He despised them, except for Remus, of course.

He remembered all they had done during the last war, and the mere thought of them within the grounds of the school was a harrowing one indeed.

“You are her,” Firenze whispered, walking slowly towards Morgana. “You are the girl of the forest, the one we have seen in the very stars. Blessed by her and gifted from the fairies.”

Morgana nodded in response.

“And I am here to fend off the unwanted creatures,” she replied. “The help of you and your people would be most appreciated.”

“You will have it, my lady,” Firenze assured her. “You will have it.”

He galloped off into the trees, leaving behind a thoroughly confused Hagrid, though his confusion shifted to confusion, as he heard a deep grumbling coming from somewhere in the distance.

“Grawp!”

“Grawp?” Morgana queried.

Hagrid released a deep breath as he shook his head.

“I brought him here some years ago. He’s quite harmless when you get to know him.”

“A giant,” Morgana sighed.

Hagrid nodded.

“He’s my brother, you see. I couldn’t leave him with the others. They bullied him because he was smaller than them. I have to go to him!”

He hurried off into the trees, followed by Morgana who managed to keep stride with him.

Only a few moments later, they appeared in the clearing Grawp had made his home, and Hagrid’s younger brother looked at him pitifully.

“Ah, Grawpy, it’ll be alright,” Hagrid soothed.

“HAGGER!”

The giant reached forward clumsily with both of his hands, and Hagrid offered him a smile.

Grawp shook his head.

“HAGGER!” he said almost pleadingly, pointing towards the trees in the distance.

Hagrid nodded sadly.

“I know, Grawp,” he murmured comfortingly. “Bad men are here.”

Graw appeared to be almost clueless for a moment before he suddenly stood at his full sixteen-foot height and unleashed a bloodcurdling bellow.

“I think he wants to fight,” Morgana said amusedly, laughing as the giant uprooted and entire tree.

Hagrid nodded.

“I think we might all need to,” he murmured, turning as once more the sound of galloping hooves filled the air.

He and Morgana could only look on as the larges herd of Centaurs he’d ever seen emerged from the trees.

For a moment, he thought they were going to attack Grawp, but instead, Bane stepped forward and presented his sword to Morgana.

“My lady of the forest, are swords, our bows, our arrows, and our spears are yours.”

The woman placed a hand on the centaur’s shoulder, and Hagrid felt a sudden warm breeze blow through the chilly forest which somehow lifted the gloomy mood plaguing them all.

“Then we had best get to work, Bane. I fear we do not have as long as we’d like before they come.”

(Break)

He watched with morbid curiosity as his blood continued to flow out of his veins and into his brother’s. His head was light, and the room was spinning, but as Aberforth took another deep swallow of the potion placed into his hands, he felt measurably better.

“That’s it,” Poppy Pomfrey declared only a moment later. “All of Albus’s blood has been drained and replaced.”

Aberforth breathed a sigh of relief as the crude needle that muggles used was pulled from his arm, and he downed the next potion, grimacing at the burn of the steam billowing from his ears.

The Pepper-up however, did its job, and he felt much better than he had only a moment prior.

“Is he…?”

The question died on his lips, and Pomfrey offered him an encouraging nod.

“He’s still alive,” she assured him. “It is a good omen. All that remains is to see how long I takes before he wakes. A man in his advanced years…”

She broke off and shook her head before taking the large bucket of Albus’s blood away.

Aberforth merely continued to sit in his chair, not yet well enough to stand without feeling unwell, and he watched his brother closely.

“Bloody hell, you git. If there was ever a time you were needed, it’s now.”

Still, Albus didn’t move, and Aberforth tentatively took his hand in his own, squeezing it encouragingly.

It was all he could do for his brother, and as he peered outside the window to see the sun setting low in the sky, he could only hope what they’d done would be enough.

Much blood would be spilled this night, but if Albus woke in time, it need not be too much.

(Break)

It had been with due haste that Harry had rushed to gather all he needed, and as he emerged from the castle and into the darkening grounds of the castle, he drew his sword and walked the length halfway between the school itself and the gates that separated it from the outside world.

Here, he jammed the blade into the ground before taking his wand into hand and watched in anticipation as the sun continued to set, though he did not remain idle.

He could not be certain what would come for them first, but he was as ready as could be for it; a lone figure with dozens at his back, though a little too far away to be of much use to him should he find himself in grave peril.

Sirius had not liked the idea.

‘Not even your father do something so reckless!’

‘Maybe not, but I have done so more times than I care to remember, and I have lived to be older than him.’

Harry had taken no joy in pointing that out, but his words, but his words had been nothing but the truth and had served to quell the protests of his godfather.

Still, he felt truly vulnerable to what was coming.

Riddle himself posed a considerable challenge to overcome, but with perhaps hundreds of followers, and vicious creatures with him, it could well be insurmountable.

Even so, it was not in Harry’s nature to flee, and there was no fleeing from this.

The prophecy drew the two of them together, and perhaps he was relying on that odd, unexplored magic to see him through whatever might come through the gates, but it would be Harry that kept himself alive.

Not that he believed tonight would be the culmination of such.

No, there were too many loose ends, too many unanswered questions, and much more violence between him and Tom Riddle to be had before Fate would be satisfied.

He shook his head as he paced back and forth, waiting for the inevitable attack, but it was the sound of baying from the east that had him pause.

The sun had set now, and the werewolves were on the move, but waiting for them amongst the trees was his wife.

Although Harry was worried for Morgana, he knew she would be well enough.

Within the trees, she was in her element, and it would be Fenrir Greyback that would rue his decision to ever follow Tom Marvolo Riddle.

Before the night was out, much of, perhaps all his pack would no longer exist.

Morgana was just as ruthless as Harry, and Voldemort would see that for himself when he arrived to find his servants had not as he’d anticipated.

Nonetheless, the violence would still ensue, and Harry waited, twirling his wand between his fingers for the first breech of the defences that would not hold for as long as he’d like.

(Break)

The howling and baying drew nearer until Morgana could hear the snarling of the wolves as they approached. How many there were, she couldn’t be certain, but the Centaurs were in position to funnel the creatures towards her, and Hagrid stood by with Grawp, who already swinging his make-shift club menacingly.

Any who received a blow from such an implement would not live to see another day, werewolf or not.

For Morgana’s part, she used her wand to prick her finger, before drawing a rune on each of her cheeks; one representing the element silver, and the other for the moon.

Mostly they would only serve an aesthetic purpose, but she was already well protected.

In the light of the full moon, the countless runes etched into her skin glowed eerily, and she tilted her head as she spotted the first of the wolves bounding towards her.

Yelps filled the night as the arrows of the centaurs felled and guided the others, and Morgana raised her hands.

The trees and other plants answered her call, and many of the creatures were snagged, subdued, and even throttled as they did their utmost to reach the grounds ahead of them.

Those that did manage to evade capture were met with Hagrid and Grawp.

The latter was in his element as he crushed their skulls, and the former fired bolt after bolt from his crossbow, roaring ferally as he tangled with others.

It was a testament to his own strength as he fought the werewolves off, striking them with his enormous fists and even snapping limbs.

Morgana had not been blessed with such strength, but her wand was a blur as she cursed the creatures, ignited others, and tore shreds of flesh from bones as she flayed them.

It was a rather distasteful course of action, but a necessary one. The werewolves would certainly show no kindness or restraint.

Still, despite their efforts, there were many more wolves than there were centaurs, and soon enough, the sound of arrows being loosed from bows ceased, and were replaced by whistling blades as they whistled through the air.

How effective the swords would be, Morgana didn’t know, but she did not miss that more and more were making it through to her, and when she felt as though she might just be overwhelmed, she transformed into an arrow and took to the trees above.

When she was settled in a branch, she reverted back to her human form, and bent the tree to her will, using the shrubbery as cover and angling the trunk towards the ground, where she continued her fight.

Here she remained until she was suddenly dislodged by a werewolf much larger than the others, and she instinctively rolled away from the dagger-length claws as a vicious swipe was aimed towards her.

Morgana breathed a sigh of relief as only her dress was torn slightly, and she quickly turned into a small insect to scurry away.

Fortunately, the werewolf could not see her amongst the leaves, but she could not gather ground quickly.

She heard the whinnying of the centaurs, and the continued roars of Hagrid and Grawp as they fought on, but it was the sound of scuttling in the distance that caught her attention.

Her beady eyes widened at the sight of hundreds of spiders coming towards them, much like the tide would wash across the shore, and she quickly turned into a bird once more.

Once in a thicker, taller, tree, her worst assumption proved to come true.

The spiders were assisting the werewolves, and in  only a matter of moments, the centaurs, Hagrid, Grawp, and her would be overwhelmed if she did not do something.

Still, even facing such adversity, she was not helpless, and she closed her eyes to seek the help she needed.

Only a moment went by before the trees themselves sprang into life, swiping and bludgeoning the werewolves and Acromantula as they attempted to reach the Hogwarts grounds.

Seeing the werewolf that had struck at her below, sniffing the air confusedly, Morgana narrowed her eyes.

That must be Greyback, the most infamous of his kind.

Readying herself for what was to do, she commanded the roots of a nearby to snag the creature.

It would not halt the attack entirely, but a pack without their alpha would be lost.

Greyback snarled as he was seized, and whimpered loudly as the branches and vines slammed him into the trunk.

Morgana lowered herself to the floor in front of the struggling creature, and stood at her full height, calling upon the magic she had been blessed with.

Once more, the air around her turned warm, and she aimed a curse towards another of the werewolves that dared interfere in her work, her silvery ripping its lower jaw away from the rest of its face.

It screeched in agony as it thudded to the ground and began pawing at it in its discomfort.

Morgana, however, paid it no further heed, and instead turned her attention towards Greyback.

“Silly beast,” she whispered almost sweetly as she smiled. “Not even your curse can protect you from me.”

(Break)

The commotion within the forest could be heard across the grounds, and Harry fought the urge to throw himself into the fray. He needed to trust in his wife, though when the first of the werewolves and enormous spiders reached the treeline, he did find himself in quite the dilemma.

At the very same moment, undoubtedly orchestrated by Riddle, he felt the coldness of the Dementors seep into every fibre of his being, but it was the trembling ground and rattling gate in the distance that concerned him most.

Above him, the Dementors waited to swoop, from the forest, the spiders and wolves readied themselves to leap, and ahead of him at the gates, he could see the Death Eaters and giants on the cusp of smashing the only true barrier that separated him from them.

Still, he did not flee.

No, Harry waited with a patience he did not know he possessed, surrounded, but oddly calm as he brought his wand to bear to face all of his enemies, giving no ground, and nor would he in the moments to come.