Eviction
“Merlin’s balls, I hope he knows what he’s doing,” Fred murmured as he caught sight of the swathes upon swathes of men and women following Voldemort towards the gates of the castle.
Just ahead of them, he could see Dawlish and the other aurors making quite the show of doing their utmost to enter the gates of the castle, watching closely for the first sign of the arriving resistance.
That first sign, however, would not come courtesy of a flurry of spells they needed to defend themselves against.
No, Fred and George were not here to simply spectate the unfolding spectacle. They too had their parts to play.
He kept watching from his vantage point, silently urging the Death Eaters on to where he needed them, his hand twitching in anticipation, but he held firm for the right moment to strike, knowing he need to time it just right.
“Come on,” he urged, releasing a deep breath as Voldemort and his followers changed their approach from pacey walk to a sprint, exactly as Harry had expected.
(Break)
This was perhaps the maddest of all Potter’s ideas.
John had quickly come to realise that the boys’ courage knew no bounds, or perhaps the articles in The Daily prophet from not so long ago had been right. Maybe there was a touch of insanity to him.
He snorted at the thought.
There was undeniable.
Anyone willing to fight Lord Voldemort of all people or do half the things he’d done outside of that must’ve taken leave of their senses to some degree. Still, he could not argue the logic of this plan.
It would certainly give the impression that the tide of the war had shifted significantly, if it did indeed work as intended.
John would not deny that he had his doubts, though that was likely due to living through the last war and seeing just how any plan concocted by the likes of Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic had ultimately failed to prevent Voldemort’s rise to power or barely scuppered his progress throughout those years.
Harry was not like Dumbledore, nor anyone who’d been a part of Bagnold’s cabinet.
No, there had been far too much reticence to do what had been required from fear of backlash or moral objections. Harry Potter cared for neither, and Joh had seen for himself just how effective his approach was.
Already, he had struck blow after blow against their enemies, and though Voldemort did not know it yet, by the time sun rose this coming morning, another would come that Harry assured John he would not recover from.
As ever, he’d been rather vague, and yet, he’d come to trust the young man as much as he ever had any of his colleagues.
It was strange to think such a thing when only a matter of months ago, he’d believed the boy to be completely delusional. It turned out that it had been those who believed such about him were the fools, even John himself.
He too had brought into the accusations of delusions, of an attention seeking boy who’s star was beginning to fade.
No, that wasn’t the Harry potter he had come to know at all. If anything, the young man would rather be without this fame and burden resting heavily on his shoulders.
“THEY’RE HERE!”
John turned to see what appeared to be an enormous shadow barrelling towards him and the other aurors from the direction of the village, and he nodded.
“I hope you know what you’re doing, Harry,” he murmured, releasing a deep breath as he placed his hand on the gate he and his companions had been so fervently attacking.
He winced as the ground trembled from the explosion that followed, and at first, he believed that something had gone amiss, that the castle was resisting the instruction to bid them entry, but as he turned and looked back towards where the Death Eaters had been approaching from, he saw only smoke and flames licking up those at the rear of the formation.
“Quick, inside,” he urged the others, taking advantage of the situation.
The aurors funnelled in through the gates, and John was the last to do so, shooting back, a furtive glance towards Voldemort and his followers, who were already continuing on their way towards them.
With a tap of his wand, he slammed the gate shut and joined the others, hoping that the inevitable onslaught that would come could be repelled long enough for Harry to do what he needed.
“Secure the castle, and do it quickly,” he instructed.
Much of the work to do so should already be done, but John was taking no chances, not where Lord Voldemort was concerned.
(Break)
He was glad that he’d taken the initiative to ask Arthur Weasley for a map of the Malfoy home. Without it, he would be wandering blindly through the extravagant halls with no clue of where he was going.
Still, even with it, navigating the many corridors and alcoves was not as easy as he’d like, and despite hoping it would be so, Harry knew he wasn’t alone here.
Thus far, he had not seen another person, but he could sense them, could feel the presence of more than one person within the manor.
Maybe it was merely the prisoners that he was getting ever closer to, but he did not think so.
No, others were indeed here, and were it not for the cloak he was within, he did not doubt they would know that he was here too.
With a frown, he carefully pushed open another door, only to find himself in a parlour of sorts, which did not seem to be used often.
He suspected the same could be said for much of the house.
Harry had known the Malfoys were gawdy and liked to lord their wealth over others, but this was ridiculous, and as he consulted the map Arthur had drawn for him, he realised that there were at least six others, and four different kitchens.
He shook his head and pressed on, the feeling that he wasn’t as alone as he’d like only becoming more and more prominent.
“Dungeons,” he murmured under his breath, frowning as he pushed open another door to find himself in the entrance hall of the home he had entered into.
Consulting the map once more, he realised he’d not made a mistake as he’d first thought, that the doors here were different than they’d been only a few moments prior.
The map, however, remained the same, and he traced his finger along the various corridors, tapping the one he needed to follow through the door to his left.
No wonder Mr Weasley and the Ministry had always had a difficult time searching the place. Much like Hogwarts, it seemed to change, but again, the presence of others had grown stronger.
Even so, Harry did not expect his efforts here to get any easier. No, although he felt as though he was heading in the right direction, he could not ignore that his magic was warning him of underlying threats nearby.
Still, as ever, he pressed on, ensuring his wand was in easy reach to defend himself, which he suspected would become a necessity.
Despite the protections around the home having been nullified, those within were firmly in place, and they were probing around him, unable to detect him for now but Harry suspected the moment he put even a toe outside of the folds, his presence would be noted.
He would need to be careful, surefooted, and not allow that to happen.
With that in mind, he continued on his way, checking the map once more as he reached a door that Mr Weasley had not included in his sketch. Were it not for the strong inkling of people being within the room on the other side, he would’ve moved on, not wanting to risk being detected.
There was, however, something familiar about what he could faintly feel, and he carefully tapped the lock with his wand, only for nothing to happen.
Harry cursed internally, quickly deducing that unless he resorted to blasting his way through the door, he would need to find the key,
“Well, fuck,” he grumbled under his breath, wondering where he would even begin looking for a key in a house of this size whilst hoping that Riddle did not keep it on himself.
If that was so, there was only one way that this would end, after all.
Harry certainly wasn’t leaving without what he came for.
(Break)
She breathed a sigh of relief as the familiar faces of her colleagues came into view and even heard the scream of rage from near the gates as they clanged shut in the distance.
“What on earth is going on?” Flitwick asked as he and the other members of staff arrived in the entrance hall, his eyes widening at the sight of the aurors pouring into the castle.
No longer seeing the need to maintain her cover, Nymphadora removed her disguise in response, and the diminutive man’s eyebrows vanished into his hairline.
“The castle is in lockdown,” she explained. “Any threats within the walls have been neutralised. Harry is breaking into Malfoy Manor to free the prisoners being kept there.”
Filius shook his head.
“I always knew he was mad,” he murmured sagging as the weight of what all of them had endured these past months was lifted. “What do you need us to do?”
“As many protections as possible,” Nymphadora implored. “Harry said he will arrive as soon as he can to make sure he cannot get in. Dobby?”
The little elf appeared immediately and offered her a bow.
“The rest of the elves are helping the students escape the castle, Miss,” he explained. “Master Harry is inside Dobby’s former home.”
Nymphadora nodded.
“And the Slytherin students?”
“Are still in the dungeons. Master Harry says that no one should try to open the door. He will speak with them when he is here.”
Nymphadora wasn’t going to go out of her way to defy Harry. His instructions regarding the Slytherins had been firm, and he would not be pleased if anyone interfered.
“He’s here, isn’t he?” Filius asked, looking towards the gate as the ground began to tremble.
“He’s here alright,” Dawlish answered, “and he’s not happy. Something tells me he will be even angrier before the night is done. Come on, let’s do what we can to keep him out.”
He and the rest of the aurors split up in several directions with some climbing the nearby staircase and others heading back into the grounds.
“You heard the man,” Filius spoke up once more. “Anything we can do to keep him out must be done. I just hope Harry knows what he is doing,” he added, drawing his wand and following the aurors who’d exited the castle.
Nymphadora nodded as she took a deep.
“Me too,” she murmured, readying herself for what was to come.
(Break)
How?
That was the only question running through his mind as he watched the aurors running towards the castle.
To bypass the defences around the castle so easily was impossible. The Dark Lord knew that for himself when he had looked into doing decades prior, but the aurors had somehow managed it, unless something was else was afoot.
Not that there was time to contemplate that very thing, not when Hogwarts was slipping through his fingers.
Fortunately, he had people within to ensure something so brazen would come to nothing, and yet, as he waited for something, any sign that this would be quelled immediately, he could not ignore the niggling feeling that this was not a mere inconvenience.
No, for this to have occurred as it had, they would’ve needed help from someone on the inside.
He began running the names of those that had been placed here purposely to ensure the castle remained secure, and the Dark lord could think of none who’d dare betray him in such a way.
Despite his belief in the loyalty of those men and women, there came no sign of any struggle beyond the gate he found himself standing before.
He unleashed a snarl of rage as he levelled his wand towards, his nostrils flaring as his magic dissipated to nothing, but he wasn’t done. No, he would not allow Hogwarts to be taken from him.
“Potter,” he whispered dangerously.
Although he had not seen the young man here, he knew that without a doubt he was involved.
“POTTER!” he roared. “I KNOW YOU’RE IN THERE, POTTER!”
He received no response, and the Dark Lord only felt his fury become more palpable the more he was ignored.
“ROOKWOOD!”
“I’m here, my lord.”
“Find me a way in, now!”
The former Unspeakable was undoubtedly looking at him dumbly from beneath his mask, but the Dark Lord did not care. He wanted the castle back under his command, and he would see it done by any means necessary.
“My lord, that could take weeks, or months, and that is even if it is possible.”
He felt his anger rise once more, and his wand snapped towards the man in frustration.
“Crucio!” he spat and took a moment to watch Augustus writhing on the floor as he screamed in agony.
Nonetheless, what would usually bring him such immense joy brought only another wave of anger, which he directed towards the protections around the school.
No, he would not simply allow what had happened pass without repercussions. He would take Hogwarts back by any means necessary, even if he had to destroy every last piece of magic blocking his way.
(Break)
It was far from being the first time that he’d skirted the edge of the Forbidden Forest. He and Fred had ventured here more times than he could when they’d been students and been chased out of it by Hagrid and Filch more often than not, but it felt different tonight.
George couldn’t be certain what it was but it almost felt as though the forest itself was on alert, that it was looking on in anticipation at what was unfolding outside the gates of the school that protected.
With his wand in hand, he carefully proceeded, his ears sharp to every leaf rustling or twig breaking underfoot.
This used to be something of an adventure for him when he’d been much less careless. With Voldemort so nearby, however, he could not ignore the danger he was in.
“You will be fine as long as you avoid the centaurs and acromantula.”
“What am I even looking for?”
“Nothing. What you need will find you.”
“That sounds like something Dumbledore would say, Harry.”
The other man grimaced at the observation.
“Shut up,” he grumbled. “Just be there.”
“Who’s there? If you move a muscle, I will shoot.”
He breathed a sigh of relief at the familiar, gruff voice speaking from within the trees, but George could not help but think that it wasn’t Hagrid Harry expected him to meet.
“It’s George, Hagrid. George Weasley.”
“What the bleeding hell are you doing here?” the behemoth of a man asked as he warily stepped forward.
“I could ask you the same thing.”
“Well, I’ve been here for most of the school year. It’s safer for me.”
George frowned, but he didn’t press the issue.
“Harry told me to be here. He’s getting rid of the Death Eaters out of the castle. The aurors are here.”
Hagrid stood a little taller and nodded.
“About ruddy time too,” he muttered. “I don’t why he’d want you to be here. I mean…”
He broke off.
“What is it?”
“Well, you see, he might…no, Harry wouldn’t,” Hagrid replied sheepishly.
“Wouldn’t what?”
“I suppose he might, but not without asking me or speaking to him first.”
“Speaking to who?”
“Grawp. He’s my brother.”
“Grawp?”
“Ah, so he didn’t tell you. You’d better come with me.”
Hagrid turned and began heading deeper into the trees with a thoroughly confused George Weasley following him, pausing as a low growl and then a roar sounded from somewhere ahead of them a few moments later.
“What the hell is that?” the latter whispered.
“Oh, that’s just Grawpy,” Hagrid said almost fondly. “He’s alright enough. He seemed to like Hermione a lot.”
George could only shake his head at the sight of the giant they came upon in a clearing the creature had evidently made for itself. Trees had been uprooted and had been thrown aside as though they were mere sticks, and the ground had been squashed completely flat by its feet from where Grawp, as Hagrid had named him had paced back and forth.
“Hello, Grawpy,” Hagrid spoke.
“HAGGER!”
Grawp made Hagrid look as though he was a child as he picked him up and held him tightly to his chest, jumping up and down, making the ground shake beneath George’s feet.
Hagrid simply laughed in response until he was placed back onto the ground.
“There are bad people coming to the castle, Grawpy,” Hagrid whispered. “What do you say we help Hogwarts in its hour of need?”
Grawp stared at Hagrid questioningly for a moment, almost vacantly, before nodding, but George’s attention had already been caught by something else moving in the tree to his left.
“Err, Hagrid. I’m not sure if Harry meant for me to meet you here,” he spoke, pointing towards the figures that were appearing all around them.
“I don’t think he did,” Hagrid agreed in a whisper. “Come on, Grawpy, you come with me. Don’t worry, George, they’re gentle enough unless you provoke them.”
George nodded as Hagrid led his brother away, having finally realised why Harry had asked him to come here tonight.
(Break)
Nothing.
Despite his best efforts to navigate his way through the home and even feeling the presence of others, Harry had been unable to find them. It was as though they were on his periphery, and yet, whenever he seemed to get closer, the presence shifted elsewhere within Malfoy Manor.
Still, it appeared that his efforts had not been entirely wasted.
Somehow, he had managed to find the rooms that Tom was using, a section of the house he had all to himself, a study, bedroom, private bathroom, and even his own kitchen.
Had he the time to investigate it further, he would do so, but it wasn’t as though the man would have a book of his plans left on a desk for him to peruse, or anything else of much use here.
Of course, he’d carefully searched the area but had come up with nothing, and he’d not missed the opportunity to leave a few gifts behind before making his way back towards the entrance hall.
What Harry had realised during his time here was that although he could indeed feel the ambient magic in the air, and even the presence of others, his ability to do so was being severely hampered by the cloak.
It was as though what would usually be clear shouting, telling him what was around him had been muted to little more than a muffled whisper, and the more he pondered it, the mor he realised that he might just have to once again adapt his plans to being something much less subtle.
That thought only became more prominent as he reached the entrance hall and came to a stop at the sight that greeted him.
Harry liked to think that he’d gotten better at managing his temper these past couple of years.
Of course, he still became angry and irritated by anything pertaining to Riddle, but it was the very man he saw emerging from within the very door he needed to get through that made his blood boil beneath the surface.
The last time he’d laid eyes on Wormtail, the man had tied him to a tombstone and took no small amount of joy in relieving Harry of some of his blood for Voldemort’s ritual.
Ever since, he’d dreamed of finding himself alone with the man, peeling the flesh from his bones and causing the worst pain imaginable in a bid to obtain justice for himself and his parents for their betrayal. At this precise moment, however, Harry knew he had to stay his hand, fight the urge to pull the house down around him, and have belief that he and Pettigrew would inevitably cross paths once again.
As much as it pained him so, he’d not come here for the rat. No, he was here to rescues Luna and the others being kept prisoner.
Nonetheless, it was Peter who seemed to know the way in, so, Harry needed to find a way to coax it from him without raising the alarm.
“Accio key,” he mouthed, pointing his wand towards the man, his jaw tightening in frustration as nothing happened.
Pettigrew showed no signs of being aware of the attempt as he continued on his way, unknowingly being followed by Harry, who was pondering how to proceed, something, it turned out, he need not concern himself with.
“S-Severus, what are you doing here?” Wormtail sputtered as the man entered the home through the front door.
Harry could only look on in surprise, wondering what the hell he was doing.
“The Dark Lord sent me,” Snape lied. “Hogwarts is under attack, and he believes it is either a trick or a trap, and he wants the prisoners here moved to a secure location.”
“He t-thinks someone is here?” Pettigrew asked pitifully, his rat-like gaze shifting to every corner of the entrance hall.
“It is merely a precaution, Wormtail,” Snape said dismissively. “Now, give me the key.”
The smaller, rotund man hesitated only briefly, but an unwavering glare from Snape, who clearly despised Pettigrew saw him reaching into his pocket and removing a small, gold key.
“I think it is best you make yourself scarce,” Snape suggested. “If Potter is here, I do not think he will treat you so kindly.”
Wormtail whimpered and sprinted away as quickly as his legs could carry him, and Snape breathed a sigh of relief.
“I suspect you were either going to kill him or blast your way through that door.”
“I thought about it.”
Something of a smirk tugged at the corner of Snape’s lips, and with a jerk of his head, Harry followed him towards where the prisoners were being kept.
“Stay within the cloak, Potter. He did not forget to activate his hidden measures before he left. He has become more paranoid than ever these past weeks and will be even more so now.”
“As he should be.”
Snape paused.
“Do not make the mistake of underestimating him. You have become a competent wizard in your own right, but he truly is exceptional. It is as I said to you when we first began working together, it will be your resilience and heart that will be his downfall, or maybe I was wrong,” he added with a frown. “You have come a long way, Potter. It would be a shame for you to die because you became too cocky.”
“You mean like my father.”
“Now you’re putting words in my mouth. Quickly, go and fetch the prisoners. You will be unable to use the portkeys within the house.”
Harry nodded as Snape unlocked the door.
“Had you have tried this without being marked, you would have experienced a most unpleasant death.”
“Then I should be thanking you.”
“I do not need your thanks, Potter. Now, go. I will watch the door for you.”
Harry did not need to be told twice, and as he descended the staircase into a gloomy, dimly lit room below, he found himself looking upon around two dozen faces.
Some were familiar, and others were not, but there was only one he was searching for.
“Luna,” he whispered, as he reached the blonde.
The girl jumped in surprise, her cracked lips parting slightly before she shook her head.
“Luna.”
“Harry?” she gasped. “Is it really you?”
“It’s me.”
“Bloody hell, Potter is here,” another voice spoke.
“Potter? Now you’re seeing things.”
“Quiet!” Harry snapped. I have portkeys to get you all-out of here. They will take you somewhere safe whilst I make arrangements to move you on. It’s better that you wait there for me to get you. The protections you will be under are less friendly than here. Luna, can you pass them around? There should be enough for one between four of you, but don’t try to activate them in here. I need to get you all outside.”
Given that they were undoubtedly desperate, having spent weeks within this room, and shocked by his sudden appearance, none offered no argument, nor asked any further questions as the portkeys were handed out.
“Quietly,” Harry urged. “We’re not alone here. Come on.”
They said nothing as they climbed the staircase, and though some of them were taken aback by Snape’s presence, they remained silent, their eyes squinting as they adjusted to the much brighter light of the Malfoy home.
Not that they lingered long.
Seeing their chance for freedom, the prisoners immediately ran from the house, and did not hesitate as they began activating their portkeys, and though they did so quietly, it proved to not quiet enough.
A caterwauling charm began sounding throughout the house and beyond, and the presences that Harry sensed were out of reach to him only moments prior became prominent once more.
“Let’s go, Potter!” Snape urged, following the prisoners who had spilled from the house with Harry in tow.
Both looked on as the last few stragglers vanished from the grounds of Malfoy Manor, but any internal celebration Harry was able to enjoy was cut short as he caught sight of something out of the corner of his eye.
“SNAPE!”
The man turned as he shouted his warning, only for something to lock onto his neck and drag him to the ground.
Snape fought back as Harry took aim with his wand, trying to find a way to help the flailing man as he wrestled with the enormous snake that had taken hold of him.
With a well-placed curse, the snake screeched and attempted to flee towards the treeline, only to be intercepted by another spell. It began to thrash on the ground, screeching in protest as Harry bore down on it, hitting it again and again with the first pieces of magic that came to mind.
Still, it continued to its attempts to escape him, and Harry knew he needed to prevent it from doing so quickly.
Levelling his wand towards it once more, he uttered the two words that had haunted him for much of his childhood, and watched as the familiar, sickly green curse hurtled from the tip of his wand.
“AVADA KEDAVRA!”
As a rule, he despised the curse, but it served to still Nagini, and the screech that escaped it next was one of agony, a mixture between a shrieked death rattle and a final protest by what had been dislodged by it.
Evidently, Dumbledore had again been right.
Riddle had used his loyal serpent servant to house a piece of his soul, but that was far from Harry’s mind as he hurried towards the downed potions master.
Snape was not in a good way.
His already pale skin had become paler still, and he had several puncture marks in his neck and chest which bled freely. There was a fear in his eyes that Harry would never expect to see from such a man, and yet, there was a peace to it.
“Potter,” he wheezed.
Harry shook his head.
“I don’t think there is anything I can do for you,” Harry replied, looking back towards the house.
“I know,” Snape chuckled humourlessly. “Take it.”
Harry frowned as a milky tear fell from the corner of his eyes, and he quickly retrieved a vial from within his pocket.
“You deserve to know the truth, Potter. End this.”
Harry frowned as he sealed the vial, and Snape’s breathing quickly became more erratic until he fell almost still, a fond smile cresting his lips as he met Harry’s gaze once more.
“You have her eyes.”
What little life had remained in his own was gone, as though a light had simply been switched off, and Harry deflated.
He would not deny that he’d wished the man dead more times than he could count since he’d met him, and yet, it was a rather bittersweet feeling that filled him having witnessed it for himself.
He and Snape had never truly seen eye to eye, but the man had truly come through for him when he’d needed it most, had helped Harry master the mind arts, and even passed on knowledge in magic that so few would ever possess.
Now, he was gone, and Harry did not know how to feel about it.
“Come Death, come,” he murmured. “Grant him the peace that life could not.”
With a wave of his wand, he set the body ablaze and looked towards Malfoy Manor once more to see the first of the Death Eaters rushing outside.
“IT’S POTTER!” one of them yelled, but none of the others who emerged made a move towards him.
Shooting another glance towards the dead snake just a short distance away, Harry’s nostrils flared and he aimed his wand towards the house itself, determined to leave Riddle with a constant reminder that he’d been here.
He said nothing as he unleashed his curse and activated his own portkey as the black and gold flames began consuming the stately home.
(Break)
He could feel the strain of the onslaught courtesy of the Dark Lord’s followers, and though they had prepared as best they could for the eventual collapse of the protections around the castle, John could not say that he was relishing it.
With every barrage of spells, it was as though the very air around him was being strained, and as he looked upon the defences before him, he could only hope that it would be enough to defend the school.
From what he could glean, the majority of the students were already gone, transported out of Hogwarts via portkey, and John was pleased Harry had the foresight to do so, especially as it seemed that the Dark Lord himself and his followers would soon be spilling onto the lawn.
Flitwick had done an exceptional job charming everything and anything he could use to throw at the enemy, and the aurors had taken up solid formations across the grounds and even the ramparts of the castle.
Even so, there was no denying that they were outnumbered, that when the defences inevitably gave way, it would be them under the cosh. Still, John’s faith in Harry Potter would not waver.
The young man would come through for them again, just as he had every time thus far, and I even if the slimmest chance of him not doing so became a reality, those gathered here would not allow this to be an easy victory for the attackers.
“He’s bloody determined,” Jones commented.
John nodded, his wand poised and ready to strike down any who made it through the gates, with each passing second making that more of a reality.
“It won’t hold much longer,” Tonks spoke.
“It will not,” John agreed.
True to his word, a loud groaning like an old wooden door being put under immense strain sounded only a few moments later, and the tension of the air seemed to lift, as though the castle itself was taking a deep breath, and the first of the Dark Lord’s followers forced their way through the gates, charging towards the castle.
Nott hat they were given a clear path to do so.
Filius’s animated golems would not be so easy to overcome, and it wasn’t as those defending the castle remained idle. No, spells of all colours began raining down on the Death Eaters, and John believed that they might just be able to hold back the tide, though those thoughts faltered as he watched the Dark Lord himself reduce one of the stone golems to dust with just a wave of his wand.
“Well, shit,” he murmured, continuing with his own efforts.
Neither Tonks nor Jones said anything, but they didn’t need to.
Both were truly talented in their own right, and it was impossible to miss the uncertainty and concern in their eyes.
They were right to be concerned.
With the golems being vanquished quickly, there wasn’t so much standing between the attackers and defenders. John, however, sensed that all wasn’t as it appeared to be, and as another explosion, much louder than the last that had come as Voldemort had approached the gates tore through the air, he could only marvel at the purple fire that tore through the rear of middle of the ranks of the Death Eaters.
Many caught ablaze and their focus began shifting towards preventing themselves from being immolated; a difficult task as the attackers were set upon by a huge herd of thestrals that seemed to appear from nowhere.
The horse-like creatures dived from the sky, tearing through flesh and bone with their teeth and pounding away with their hooves at the same time.
“Is that Potter?” Jones asked, pointing to a figure atop one of the mounts.
“Unless he’s dyed his hair ginger, no,” John snorted, grimacing as one of the thestrals pummelled a Death Eater into the dirt.
It wasn’t Harry who had brought them, but there was no mistaking that he had something to do with them being here. He seemed to have something of a close relationship with the creatures. His patronus was a thestral, one of only two John had ever heard of being a magical being with Dumbledore’s being the other.
How the man would despair if he was here now.
John shook his head of the thought, his stomach sinking as the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters again managed to continue on their path towards the castle, and unless there were any other surprises waiting for them, they would reach it in only a matter of moments.
(Break)
Their attempts to thwart him from entering the grounds had been nothing more than pathetic.
Of course, the defences around the castle were quite something to behold, but the Dark Lord suspected that they’d not managed to get Severus to cooperate with them in doing his utmost to keep his fellow Death Eaters out.
Even so, the only way into the grounds would’ve been to have cooperation from someone able to assist them, and the Dark Lord would have the name of the individual before the night was done.
Still, perhaps it had been just a little too easy for him.
No, that couldn’t be so. Even with the headmaster of the school incapacitated the protections were among the very best in the world, and yet, they had crumbled under the might of Lord Voldemort.
The thought brought a grin to his lips, but it faded as another made itself known.
Potter.
There was a lack of his presence, in the grounds at least, and he knew that the aurors would not dare attempt such a daring heist without the support of the blasted man to support them.
So, where was he?
As he blasted one of the infernal thestrals aside that had lashed out at him with its wings, he questioned was answered in the form of a figure landing on the ground between the Dark Lord, his followers, and the castle he was attempting to prevent being taken from him.
“Potter,” he seethed at the sight of his foe.
He had the temerity to look rather pleased with himself, but there was an undeniable edge to his gaze, and as he brought his wand to bear, a deep thrumming seemed come from the very ground and castle itself.
Nonetheless, it was none of those things that irked the Dark Lord so. It was the sudden silence his appearance brought, the sense of fear he seemed to draw from those around him, and that damned coldness that seemed to follow him wherever he went.
Once more, the Dark Lord noted that it was unnerving, and still, he had no explanation for it.
Not that it bothered him as much as it did his Death Eaters.
Over the past months, Potter had carved quite the reputation for himself for what he’d done at the Ministry of Magic, at Azkaban, and even more so, at Grimmauld Place.
His followers had become wary of him, cautious, and many even fearful.
He same could not be said for the Dark Lord, however, and he began stalking towards Potter, who did not shift an inch with his feet or in his demeanour.
The young man was a fool, and yet, the almost inviting grin he wore did not lack in confidence. No, this was not the same terrified boy who’d unwittingly helped him regain a body almost three years prior.
This was what the prophecy had spoken of; and the Dark Lord almost hesitated to confront him.
Did Potter know something he didn’t?
It was the only explanation as to why he no longer trembled before him, but it was too late to change his mind now.
The two of them would meet here, but as he continued on his way to confront his foe, Potter stabbed his wand into the ground, and a wave of magic so cold that it seemed to freeze the joints of his bones still washed over them.
The Dark Lord blinked only to find himself and his followers back on the other side of the gates to the castle, which were firmly shut.
“COWARD!” he roared at the figure in the distance still glaring balefully at him. “POTTER!”
He received no audible response, only a glare from a pair what seemed to be a pair of white eyes before Harry Potter dared to turn his back on him and walk into the castle that he had no right to.
“My lord.”
He ignored the voice for a moment, his palpable anger unable to be tamed, but as it persisted and the gates refused to yield to him, he could do so no longer.
“My lord!”
“What is it, Wormtail?” he snapped, wondering what the rat was doing here.
“Y-you’re not going to like it, my lord,” the man stammered, his eyes wide, but it was the fact that he seemed to be covered in soot that the Dark Lord noticed, and he felt his heart sink into the pit of his stomach.
“What is it, Wormtail?” he repeated.
“I-I think you s-should see it for yourself.”