Avalon - Chapter 92 - Tireless War

Tireless War

Harry would not remain idle.

London, for the time being, might be lost to them, but that didn’t mean the war was at an end.

Dark-Eye would undoubtedly be revelling in his victory, but Harry would not wallow in defeat.

No, it was not in his nature to do nothing when there was much to be done, and although he could not be completely certain of what lay on the path, he knew the goblins would not be content with only claiming London for themselves.

Harry needed to be ready for that eventuality, for that moment to come when the king of the goblins felt emboldened to venture outside the safety of his kingdom to claim more land for himself.

With an anticipatory smile, he continued with his efforts, ensuring that all was in place for when his latest foe was no longer enjoying the high of the victory he’d achieved.

He would come again, but Harry Potter would be ready for each eventuality he could conceive, and as he placed another marker, he scribbled a line on his map to indicate where it was.

In only a matter of days of obsessive work, much of Britain was now under his watch, and in those to come, he would truly be prepared for what came next, whatever that may be.

He whispered to himself as he consulted the map he carried, comparing it to the city below. London had changed significantly over the span of a thousand years, and the map he held now was only of little use in comparison to the city that existed before him.

Nonetheless, Charing Cross was indeed here, just known as Charing, something of a small village within London itself, without the famous monument in front of the train station, and without the useful landmark that would be The Leaky Cauldron.

For weeks now, Harry had been searching for it, for any sign of what would one day become Diagon Alley, but navigating the streets of the city itself was all but impossible.

London was full of goblins, and an array of creatures he did not wish to draw the attention of, not while he was alone and seeking only knowledge.

Not that it had stopped him from adding to the number prisoners he’d accumulated by taking those that had been placed atop the walls on guard duty, well, initially at least.

Dark-Eye had grown wise enough to replace the goblins with other, less valuable beings; usually trolls that would simply roar most of the night, or birds that would screech at any disturbance outside of the walls.

It made Harry efforts all the more daunting when he couldn’t be certain if the sudden alerts were because he’d been detected, or if it was just the creatures acting as creatures did.

Still, that didn’t stop him frequenting London, though thus far, his work had been for little. However, now that he was as close to certain as he could be that he was getting closer to discovering the whereabouts of the goblin’s home, he felt the first feeling of positivity make itself known for many moons.

Fortunately, Dark-Eye had been quite content with having taken London for himself and the goblins rarely ventured outside of it, for now, at least.

Harry did not expect that would last.

The goblins wanted the entirety of Britain, and though they’d been successful in their last coming together, fighting outside of an environment they could largely control was different, and Dark-Eye knew it.

He had become more cautious, more purposeful in his efforts, but such a strained period of something akin to peace was not meant to last.

Neither Harry nor Dark-Eye would allow it, not after all that had transpired between the goblins and humans.

Soon enough, the hostilities would be back in full swing, but Harry had not been idle during the reprieve. If anything, he’d been busier than ever.

With Hook recovered for the most part, save for a plethora of scars and now walking with a slight limp, he’d been preparing for the inevitable arrival of the second child.

This pregnancy for Morgana had been considerably more problematic than the first.

The dreams she’d been having had continued to plague her throughout, only growing stronger and clearers the closer she drew to her due date, and the sickness had not abated after only a few moons.

It had lasted the duration, making the woman’s life quite miserable, and with a husband all were looking towards to defeat the goblins, she’d had a difficult time at best.

Harry deflated as he pondered everything irking him, and he shook his head as he apparated away to return home.

Nothing else pertaining to the goblins would be solved tonight, but he felt closer than ever to a much-needed breakthrough.

No, his time would be better spent with his wife, who, despite her own troubles, still did all she could to lift his spirits whilst he was brooding, even when she herself was not having the easiest of pregnancies.

Even so, both were eagerly awaiting the arrival of the babe, and even Taran, though not quite two-years-old yet, was looking forward to being a big brother.

Such a thought brought what had become a rare smile to Harry’s lips, and as he made his way towards the home he shared with Morgana n the forest, he paused as he became aware of an unsettling presence.

It wasn’t the first time he had felt it, and it wasn’t lost on him what it was.

The goblins were been nearby again, attempting to breach the protections of the school.

Not that they had any hope of succeeding, and even if they did, it would be a most unpleasant achievement for them should they dare to venture within the grounds.

Both Harry and Morgana had seen to that, but that didn’t stop the man’s annoyance at such a transgression.

Everything Harry held dear was beyond those protections; a thought that turned his annoyance into unbridled anger.

No, it couldn’t be allowed, and as his feet carried him once more towards the gates of the school, he was determined to send a reminder to Dark-Eye that he should not be taken lightly.

It had been too long that the king of the goblins had received such, after all.

(Break)

“There was no other choice but to leave,” Myrddin explained. “Had Potter not given the order to retreat, many more would’ve lost their lives.”

“Fucking coward,” Flint grumbled.

“Then perhaps you should lead them, Marcus,” Lady Meadows suggested. “I have heard the reports from my own men, and they all agree with Harry Potter’s decision to retreat to fight another day. London already belonged to the goblins; we just didn’t know it yet. It’s all well and good you hiding behind your vast protections and large iron gates. I do not see you volunteering to go into battle.”

Her words were spoken with a firmness quite uncharacteristic of the woman, but Myrddin agreed with the sentiment.

There was nothing stopping Flint, Rookwood, Gaunt, or any of the others from joining the ranks, but they had not, nor did Myrddin expect them to.

“What will happen next?” Lord Danvers broke in.

“The war will continue,” Myrddin sighed. “I still have every faith that Potter will be successful. This is merely an unpleasant setback, but only that. Dark-Eye is wary of Potter, and for a goblin, that is quite the show of weakness.”

He’d meant what he said.

His words had not only been spoken to placate the members of the Wizard’s Council, and though all had been rather quiet on the surface for several moons now, Myrddin knew better than any that Potter had not been idle.

He was seeking a way to destroy the goblins, to put an end to the war without having to march the army to London to find themselves in another impossible situation.

No, he was looking for a way that would force them out of the confines of the city.

How he would do that, Myrddin remained wholly clueless, but it was what he would do, and there was no denying Potter’s own keen mind.

Nonetheless, there was no ignoring what had happed that evening.

For the very first time since he’d known him, Harry Potter had appeared vulnerable, even if it was the briefest of moments, it had been enough to steer him in a direction he did not wish to take.

Myrddin had seen the expression of loathing, the utter contempt with the very idea of fleeing from the city, but ultimately, Harry Potter had done the right thing by his men, who had suffered greatly at the hands of the goblin forces that had ambushed them.

Not that any platitudes had been given.

Potter had not remained in Camelot.

He’d left the next afternoon when he knew that Hook would indeed make something of a recovery to continue with his efforts and had scarcely been seen since.

Myrddin wondered what the man had specifically been doing, but as ever, Potter remained elusive and tight-lipped, once again becoming something of a phantom on the edge of the consciousness of the country.

Of course, rumours were rife, whispers of the Crow stalking Britain, of a spectre in and around London itself, sometimes casting a shadow over the moon as a reminder of his presence, but little else of substance.

Owain had been in Camelot regularly, and the soldiers spoke of Potter arriving sporadically to train them further, but Myrddin had not seen the man himself.

Once more, he had become that same figure of mystery of questioning, and there was an undeniable unease amongst their enemies.

Dark-Eye may have gotten the better of the exchange in London overall, but Myrddin had no doubt it would prove to be little more than a hollow victory when all was said and done.

That, he expected, would come much sooner than most would anticipate.

Harry Potter had proven he was not one to allow things to drag out unnecessarily, and the goblin rebellion had long outstayed its welcome.

No, something had to give, and it would do so quite suddenly, violently, and resolutely when Harry Potter decided the time was right to strike.

What would come after, Myrddin didn’t know.

He and Potter had their own things to settle between themselves, and given Flint’s continued rantings and ravings, it appeared no less likely that there would be a reckoning between him and the other who would once more prove himself to be the hero the people of Britain needed.

The others, however, even Rookwood, did not seem as keen as continuing where they had left off before the goblin’s uprising.

Whatever animosity they had once harboured seemed to have faded as their need of the man had grown.

Flint liked to boast and bluster of how he would have done things differently thus far, but words were all he had, and the others had come to see it for themselves.

Despite the setback that had been one singular night in London, they had all come to realise that Harry Potter was no like other men, not like them for the most part, and not quite the monster he’d been portrayed as by Marcus Flint, and even Myrddin.

No, Harry Potter was a man that lived by his own morals, and for the most part, they were not wholly misguided, just different, more direct, and left no room for questioning of what he decided to do when confronted with a problem.

Myrddin could not say the for himself.

Although he was first and foremost a wizard, a purveyor of magic, he had the mind of a politician and conducted himself as such.

Harry Potter was no such thing.

He cared little for games, for outmanoeuvring his peers on the political battlefield, and boasting of his exceptional wit and wisdom.

No, he was a man that would look you in the eye as he plunged his sword through your guts instead of doing so under the guise of embracing you.

If anything, Myrddin quite admired that about him. It made a change from the others he’d always associated with. At the very least, one always knew where they stood with Harry Potter.

Still, such admiration did not solve their differences, and t did not change that there were many in Britain who looked to men like Potter rather than those who led them now.

Eventually, something would have to give, and such a realisation would see them all at odds once more, unless an accord could somehow, as doubtful as it was, be reached without further bloodshed.

Perhaps that could indeed be so.

Myrddin did not know how such an agreement could be found and maintained, but further violence and unpleasantness would end terribly for most.

That, however, was for another day, one that did not see the threat of the goblins still looming over them so precariously, and for that day to come, there was no denying that Harry Potter was needed to see the sun set on this one first.

(Break)

Those that had been left behind had breathed quite the sigh of relief when London had been taken. Although the goblin’s stint in Winchester had been somewhat short-lived, their absence had left the women, children, and elderly feeling rather vulnerable in their absence.

Dark-Eye stood by his decision to venture out of the home he and his fighters had grown in. They needed to experience the world for what it was without the security of the caverns they dwelled within, but he could not deny that doing so had been both detrimental and hazardous.

Here in London, however, they were much safer, the magic of generations gone by keeping them as safe as possible from the threats outside the walls.

Not that all had gone so smoothly.

Soon after their victory, those atop the walls had been going missing, snatched in the night by Harry Potter.

Thoughts of the man gave him pause.

Dark-Eye had not missed the expression of promised retribution the night the two had met on these very streets.

Potter had bowed out of the conflict, not out of fear, but out of care for his men.

It was a weakness of sorts, but a strength that inspired incredible loyalty, and although the magical army had not been seen since, Dark-Eye knew they were still out there, still unwaveringly loyal to their leader, and merely biding their time before they next struck.

Not that he and his own had been idle.

London was indeed as secure as it could be, but it wasn’t the great victory he’d promised his brethren. Dark-Eye had promised them the entirety of Britain, an entire country they could call their own, lands they could live safely without fear of persecution.

That would come in the future, and he would not rest until he’d delivered on that very promise.

For now, however, he was content with seeing the families reunited, husbands with their wives, father’s with their children, and son’s to their mothers.

Each and every one of them had fought for what they had now, and although it was not all they deserved or would one day have, it was a start, a success that instilled a sense of belief within the goblins that a true, decisive victory was possible.

That was some time away.

Despite how well their endeavours had born fruit here in London, the war was far from being over.

The humans would not yield so readily, not with Harry Potter leading them.

Even without the enigmatic man, there were others that would do so.

Owain Peverell and Myrddin Emrys to name only two, and then there was the muggle King Arthur.

The goblin’s enemies were plentiful, and removing only one would not be enough. No, their defeat would need to be absolute, leaving them no choice but to fall to their knees like those within the city walls had.

It would’ve been easy to put the muggles here to the sword. Instead, Dark-Eye had granted them the choice of death or servitude, with most choosing the latter.

The magicals that had been here had left with Potter, affording him perhaps another few hundred or so men; an inconsequential number in the grand scheme of things, and negligible when Dark-Eye considered his own forces.

His goblins alone outnumbered the humans, and with the array of creatures at his disposal, there was none who could be so foolish to deny such an advantage.

He chuckled to himself, though he frowned as he spotted a crow perched on the wall of the city only a short distance away.

Despite the safety here, he still insisted on the most vulnerable returning to the caverns before the sunset. Potter had proven his ability to come and go as he pleased when darkness fell, and he would not risk those unable to fight being snatched by the man.

No, until the war was over, it was better to be safe than sorry, a sentiment that was only punctuated further as he reached the infernal bird and glanced over the wall.

On the ground below was a pile of bodies of his own men, twelve in all, the very same dozen he’d sent to find a way through the protections of Hogwarts.

Dark-Eye ground his teeth in fury at the sight of the heads resting on pikes, and all but snatched the missive out of their air as the crow vanished in a plume of smoke.

With a trembling hand, he unfurled it to be greeted by a short, succinct missive.

The more you send, the more will die… Look up…

Dark-Eye did so just as a bolt of lightning careened from the sky and smashed into one of the few stone buildings still standing. The ground trembled for several seconds from the impact, and as the heavens opened and the cool water fell upon the city, the remains of the building smoked eerily, the vapours coalescing into a menacing cloaked figure before dissipating.

Dark-Eye growled in response, scanning the land outside of the city for any sign of the man, to no avail.

Potter had once again been here, undetected, but only seemingly to deliver his message.

Hogwarts was evidently off limits, and whether or not the king of the goblins would send any more of his experts was something he would need to ponder carefully.

Those that had gone thus far had not fared well after all, and Dark-Eye did not doubt that any others would be slaughtered, much like those below him now.

It was a troubling thought, one that angered him, but one that only made him more cautious of Harry Potter.

For a man, he was proving to be quite the formidable enemy, and though he had learned some time ago to treat his foe with caution, this was another stark reminder that such was absolutely necessary.

“You cannot allow this slight to go unpunished,” Burgock spoke, intruding upon his thoughts.

The wolves that were kept away from the others howled in the distance and Dark-Eye nodded his agreement.

They had become quite restless these past weeks, howling and baying at all hours as their hunger for flesh was not being satiated.

Keeping them hungry kept them furious, but doing so left his own people at risk.

Already, he had slain two of the beasts that had eaten a goblin tending to them. The blasted fools had gotten a little too close for their own good and paid the ultimate price.

“Then release them,” he instructed. “Allow them to be put to their intended use. There are many nearby villages they can eat their fill.”

Burgock grinned as he nodded and took his leave.

Dark-Eye had perhaps thought that Potter might try to attack London again, that he would unleash the wolves upon the man as he had intended the night the city had become his.

That had not come to pass, and with the wolves only becoming more feral, now seemed to be a prudent time to send his own reminder to his nemesis that Dark-Eye was winning the war now, that the shoe was truly on the other foot, and that there would be swift repercussions for any action Harry Potter took against him and his own.

(Break)

He rested her hand on her swollen belly in a bid to settle her lively babe.

Taran had been active from time to time, kicking her regularly, but nothing like this little one that seemed to spend her days somersaulting around, and playing havoc with Morgana’s bladder.

Worse still were the nights.

The dreams that had plagued her throughout the pregnancy had not abated. If anything, they became more frequent, more surreal, and yet more worrisome the close she came to giving birth.

Stronger still was the urge to seek solace in the stars on a clear night, but it appeared that it was her husband doing so now.

Morgana had expected him home some hours prior, had even felt his presence approaching before it suddenly vanished once more.

He returned a few hours later, somewhat calmer than he had been, and had taken a seat on a large rock only a short distance away from the house.

It was indeed a clear night, and as much as it appeared that he was looking towards the sky, Morgana knew that he was practicing the Mind Arts. Harry had little understanding or care for the stars, and lived his life under the insistence that he would ultimately control his own fate, that things may be put on his path before him, but it would be him that dictated what came and past.

Morgana too felt such a way, well, she had until she had fallen pregnant with their second child. Now, she didn’t know what to believe, but she wouldn’t deny the power she had been shown, the visions that haunted her dreams, and the feeling of the very different magic possessed by her daughter.

“Is she giving you trouble?”

“No more than her father.”

Harry chuckled as he shook his head.

“There were goblins here.”

“Were?”

“I killed them and sent them back to Dark-Eye.”

Most would be troubled by the casual way he spoke of slaughtering sentient creatures, but to Morgana, it had become a part of their life, so to hear him speak so candidly of it was not so shocking.

“They’re still trying to reach us.”

“And they will fail at every turn.”

She believed her husband.

If there was one thing Harry would never allow, it was for his family to be in any danger within their own home.

Both she and him had implemented exceptional protections around it, so much so that none could hope to even find their home unless either of them wished for it to be so.

Still, if by nothing short of a miracle it occurred, all that awaited any trespasser was a most miserable, agonising death.

“They will,” Morgana agreed. “Are you any closer?”

Harry frowned as he removed the crystal he had liberated from Dark-Eye the night the two of them had stood opposite one another in London.

He spoke little of the exchange, but Morgana had no need of it to see how much it bothered Harry.

To him, that night was a failure on his part, and even now, it was something he was struggling to come to terms with.

“Closer than yesterday, but further away than tomorrow,” he answered.

“And you think the crystal will help you.”

Harry frowned at the ominous gem.

He had spent many hours studying it, deciphering the magic, with little to show for his efforts.

“Maybe,” he answered. “I’m still unsure what it is, or what it can even do, but I have felt this magic before when we visited Gringotts to empty my vault. It was on the door, so I think this is protective magic of sorts.”

“Which is why you cannot figure it out. If it was created by the goblins using magic we can’t use, then it will remain a mystery to you.”

Harry nodded his agreement.

“It will, but that doesn’t mean I can’t use it. I am almost certain I can use it as a beacon of sorts, or at least as a means of leading me to more magic just like this.”

“And that magic will be at its strongest where the goblins live.”

“I expect so,” Harry mused aloud. “Dark-Eye has proven there isn’t anything he won’t do to win this war, and I must be willing to do the same. If I can find where they are…”

“They can be used as leverage. He will not be able to ignore it.”

“He won’t,” Harry murmured. “I have no intention of harming them but given that we are outnumbered because we cannot keep peace amongst ourselves for our numbers to swell sufficiently, we are on the backfoot in this war.”

“But you will win, Harry. You always find a way.”

“And this won’t be any different. The prisoners will be vital to negotiations when the time comes, but Dark-Eye and any other fanatic that follow him must be defeated. They will never adhere to any terms we set out for them, not until they realise they have no choice. Dark-Eye would sooner die than admit defeat.”

“And you will defeat him,” Morgana soothed, taking a seat on his lap and wrapping her arms around his neck. “London was just a setback, Harry.”

His expression darkened as he nodded.

“It was, but one I must still make right,” he murmured unhappily. “Dark-Eye has only grown in confidence.”

“But what has he done with it?” Morgana asked. “He is wary of you, as he should be.”

“Maybe,” Harry conceded, “but I will give him a true reason to be soon enough. We cannot afford another incident like London.”

“So, you intend to lure him out of it.”

“Exactly,” Harry confirmed as he stood, carrying Morgana in his arms as he walked towards the house. “I will give him no choice but to meet me where he has no advantage.”

“Accept for his numbers.”

Harry hummed thoughtfully.

“There are ways around that,” he mused aloud. “Fighting in London was a mistake, and that is on me, but he will not know what it is he is facing when it matters most. He may have the numbers, but I have the experience, and that is what I will use to my advantage.”

Morgana offered her husband a grin.

She did not doubt his word. She never had, and she wouldn’t now.

She just hoped that whatever happened did not interfere with the birth of their babe, which she could feel would be sooner rather than later.

Perhaps when the fighting was done, Harry would once more be content with simply being a father for a while, tending to their land and livestock, and finding no need to venture out so readily to fight the other wars that would inevitably come.

Morgana hoped, though knowing her husband, he would likely never be satisfied with such a pedestrian life.

Even so, she would enjoy even a modicum of peace whilst it lasted, if such a thing could last.

(Break)

It had not been a difficult decision to make, even if accommodating so many was not so simple.

Losing London had been quite the blow to Arthur and his kingdom, and word had quickly spread of what had transpired. Of course, the men and women of Britain were terrified that their own homes would be next, so once more, just as he had when Guthrum had been sweeping across the country, the king had opened the gates of Camelot to the population at large.

Houses and even cities could be rebuilt, but the loss of life was not something that could always be recovered from.

Fortunately, the magicals residing within the keep had assisted with making concessions to accommodate so many people, even if some had done so reluctantly.

However, a few words from Owain Peverell and Harry and swayed them, and quite the project to build suitable homes had begun.

Between the hundreds of magicals, and with some clever work with their spells, they had not only expanded the size of Camelot significantly, they had all but built another entire town in a matter of days, followed by three others, solely with the purpose of housing the arrivals.

They came in droves.

Columns upon columns of men, women, and children from around the country had filed through the gates of the castle, and yet, many others refused.

The people in Britain were as hardy and stubborn as they came, and many would not leave all they had spent their lives building.

Arthur understood their reluctance. For some, they could not stomach the thought of abandoning their homes to the enemy.

Even so, more and more stragglers arrived with each passing day, and the king had never been more grateful for the presence of the magicals, even if the feeling was not so mutual among many of them.

They were able to ensure that all were fed, warm, and clothed with seemingly so little effort on their part; something Arthur could not thank them enough for.

To be able to produce enough crops to do so would be all but an impossible task, and so few had the foresight to bring their own food with them.

He shook his head at the problem that thankfully did not exist, and frowned as a rather grim Gawain entered the throne room.

It was here that Arthur spent much of his day, settling the inevitable quarrels that occurred between his subjects.

“What is it?” he asked worriedly.

Gawain deflated as he handed Arthur a missive from one of the dock masters in the south.

“He is certain?”

Gawain nodded.

“He was the one who helped us board the ship,” he explained. “There’s no mistaking him, is there?”

Arthur released a deep breath.

“He would be a fool to come here.”

“He would,” Gawain agreed, “but if there was ever a time we needed a commander like him, it is now. I’m not saying you should forgive him, Arthur, but Lancelot was born here. He has just as much right to fight them as any.”

“He forfeited that right the day he…!”

Arthur broke off and shook his head.

“You gave your word that you would execute him should he return.”

“I did.”

“And he came back knowing that,” Gawain pointed out.

“What would you do?”

“I would understand that these are extenuating circumstances, Arthur, for the sake of all of those people out there. Lancelot is an invaluable warrior, ad his mind is as keen as any other.”

Arthur chuckled humourlessly.

“When did you become so wise?”

“I have spent many years at your side.”

“Bloody, take your lips away from my arse, Gawain,” Arthur huffed. “I can make no promises, but I will make no decision until he arrives. If he arrives.”

Gawain nodded and took his leave of the room as Arthur pondered the unwelcome news, though his thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of Myrddin.

The man seemed to be doing his utmost to work himself back into Arthur’s good graces, but with the news he’d just received, it only served to remind him of the man’s betrayal.

Lancelot may have been the one to bed Arthur’s wife, but Myrddin had known and kept it to himself for the sake of his own vision and ideal of what Britain should be.

“Wolves, my king. The goblins have unleashed the wolves.”

Arthur had been waiting for it.

He had seen the monstrosities for himself whilst fleeing London; enormous beasts that would tear through an entire village in a matter of moments.

What he could do about them, he didn’t know, but before he could make a decision, an ethereal crow appeared in front of him and spoke in a familiar, welcome voice.

“Do nothing and send no one. I have it in hand.”

“He has it in hand?” Arthur murmured. “He can’t possibly…”

“It is best to do as he requests, Arthur,” Myrddin urged. “After what happened in London, I expect him to hold nothing back, and if he has asked for you to not send assistance, it means that they would be in danger if they were to attend.”

Arthur could only shake his head.

He hated being left behind when a battle was afoot.

As the king, he felt it his duty to be there, but he was not foolish enough to go against the wishes of Harry Potter, not when he had been so insistent.

For now, he would have to wait for word to reach him of what had transpired, and hope that Harry knew what he was doing when it came to facing such things.

A single dragon was one thing, but dozens of wolves like those he’d seen for himself was another matter entirely, after all.

Still, he had unwavering faith in Harry, and that brought the king some comfort whilst he remained firmly on his throne.

(Break)

He had known this moment would come, not specifically what he saw unfolding before him, but Harry did not expect that Dark-Eye would remain idle.

Evidently, his dispatching of the goblins attempting to break through the protections around the school had been the needed catalyst for him to respond, though he had done so somewhat conservatively.

He’d received no other alerts to further attacks, and Harry suspected the king of the goblins had simply released the wolves from within the city walls without much thought of what they would do or where they would go.

They’d not ventured far and had only reached a village half a dozen leagues or so away from the city itself.

Fortunately, those that had lived here had left days prior to head to the relative safety of Camelot, so the marauding wolves were left with only scraps of food left behind, which meant they would not linger.

With that in mind, Harry brought his wand to bear, and upon casting a few hand charms courtesy of Fantastic Beasts and Where to Find Them, the wolves were all but stuck within the confines of the city, something they quickly became aware of as the magic washed over them.

They began howling to one another, but any effort they made to escape would be for nothing.

Landing on a roof that had been used as a church by the wayward villagers, Harry carefully removed one the quiver of arrows he’d prepared for such an occasion; the very reason he had insisted that no other join him here.

Being hit with one of the projectiles meant certain death, and as Harry banished the first one towards his target, a yelp of surprise and pain filled the air.

In only a matter of seconds, the large wolf fell to the ground with the dull thud as the basilisk venom took effect, and Harry continued on in the same vain, eliminating what would be a considerable threat on the battlefield.

As he had said to Morgana only a matter of hours ago, they could not hope to match the goblins for numbers, especially with their seemingly unending supply of creatures, but that advantage could be nullified with tactics.

Salazar’s basilisk had been happy to provide what he’d needed for this method of doing so, but Harry had many more ideas up his sleeve to implement, but first, he needed to return the wolves to where they had come from as a reminder to Dark-Eye that the war was far from won, and that much more like what had transpired here as to follow.

He would force the goblins from the city, even if he had to eliminate each of them one by one until they knew they were no longer safe from him.

This was war, after all.

Harry had yet to lose one, and he had no intention of doing so now.