Chapter 33

AN: Beta'd by Sedition till the last second. Massive thnx to him!

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The title of level 6 Dueler was considered the epitome of realistic ambition by many. While the rank was only now being popularized to the rest of the world, most European wizards were familiar with the weight behind the title.

Of course, for a rank with such high regard, the conditions to achieving it were just as high.

Officially, there was a list of stringent requirements that the British Ministry loved to flaunt. Though in actuality, they simply hoped to encourage their citizens to work harder, glorifying the rank like an award given to the greatest wizards of each generation.

The first requirement was to have master level knowledge in at least one out of the three listed subjects; Charms, Transfiguration, or Defense against the Dart Arts.

Second was the ability to defeat no less than three mid-ranked Level 5 opponents, or two high-ranked level 5 opponents, simultaneously.

Third was to have a well-developed situational awareness and tactical knowledge, tested through a series of survival and adaptability tests that each bearer of the rank went through.

Should a wizard meet all the three requirements, they shall be given a level 6 Dueler's badge. Officially.

Unofficially, the leaders of Magical Britain knew that only those who have touched the pinnacle of magical arts; Elemental Magic, could be truly considered level 6 wizards.

And this was the requirement that Rufus Scrimgeour failed to meet sufficiently, and can thus only be counted amongst the average level 6 wizards. It was also another reason for his hatred of Potter and Black, who—unlike him—had the support of familial magic to advance their knowledge and might.

Politically, Rufus was perhaps the second most powerful wizard in Britain. Magically however, he'd barely managed to etch his name alongside the elites.

Rufus wasn't completely hopeless in elemental magic, but he'd never managed to develop the type of senses required for the art.

The little that he did know however, was not enough to bridge the gap between him and the true elites, who had been practicing their elements for a long time.

And while this was all clear to him for a long time now, he did not like the reminder while he fought a god-like enemy—being the only one to not have even a single element mastered in the group.

"Rufus, back!" As if on cue, Moody shouted, coming to the fore—pushing Rufus behind like a child needing protection—to deal with their opponent's next attack.

A twenty-meter long whip of cursed fire—dark, gleaming, and thirsty—splintered the air apart as it came swinging horizontally towards the gathered English wizards.

Rufus smothered the urge to cast his trusty Protego—knowing how incredibly foolish that would be—and quietly backed away.

"Shields!" Bellatrix Black bellowed, surging forward along with Moody, their wands twirling together to create a translucent wall of Force element—one foot thick and pale-yellow in colour—that covered the gathered wizards in a semi-spherical dome.

'Force shield.' Rufus had trouble suppressing the bitterness in his heart, knowing that Black knew not one, but two different elements of magic.

The only other person he knew to have achieved that feat—apart from Dumbledore—was Lily Potter. And even she wasn't able to use it in combat.

He could only stare enviously as the black whip struck against the yellow translucent wall with an air-shattering sound, splattering dark flaming liquid around them as it came to a forced halt.

Yet, it didn't simply dissipate, trying to worm its way even deeper into the shield—its dark flames seemingly sucking the magic out of the yellow wall slowly.

Wisps of its shadowy tendrils wormed their way into the yellow translucent wall—creating crevices—slowly but surely making their way inside, and spreading cracks through its pale surface.

'This is it.' This was the power Rufus had always dreamt about, but never possessed.

The moment his whip lost its momentum, the Dark Lord pulled it back with a tug, swinging it overhead like a lasso as he prepared to strike again. Seeing the matte black whip that seemed to suck all the light around it sent shivers down Rufus' spine, especially when he realized that with each and every spin, the whip seemed to be gathering more and more darkness from the night.

Thankfully, the rest didn't stay idle. The moment Bella and Moody released them from the shield, they acted.

"James, Bella, restrict his movements!" The Minister snapped off as they spread to cover the Dark Lord's front. "Lily, hit him with your strongest bolt! Leave the defense to Alastor and me!"

Then, as if an afterthought, the Minister turned to him. "Rufus, distract him! You've the permission to use the unforgivables."

Rufus wasn't a brooding teen to cry about his weakness, but he'd be lying if he said the situation wasn't affecting him.

Yet, he had his orders, and being distracted now would cost him his job. Which would be disastrous at this point of his career.

The whip of darkness came around to make another deadly pass—this time splitting the air vertically—but Rufus could feel the quidditch pitch building up with power as his allies prepared to shed their own elements into the mix.

Just when the whip started snapping down, a sheet of solid ice—originating from the Minister—rose up from the ground to meet it. Thicker than the previous force shield, the plate of ice managed to catch the whip on its surface, wrapping around it from all the sides to keep it contained.

Yet, even as the Minister guided it from beneath—the whip of darkness was rapidly melting through the ice, the sheer power behind it simply too much for a single wizard to resist.

Luckily for them, Moody was proficient in reinforcing an element. A wave of yellow energy dug into the ice, spreading through its melted crevices and strengthening it passively to prevent the whip from sheering straight through the icy sheet.

Had Moody been a second too late, they would've had to face the whip point blank.

"Together, James!" Bellatrix's yell forced his attention ahead, and Rufus joined Black and Potter as they worked together to push back against the Dark Lord.

Through all their commotion, Grindelwald stood unmoved from his place—his eyes fixed upon the shielding duo—guarding the Death Eaters behind him as they proceeded with the ritual.

A part of Rufus' mind was bubbling with unease, feeling like they were being treated as mere irritants. Sure, producing a whip of mixed elements—fire and shadows—was an astonishing feat of magic, certainly nothing they could hope to recreate. And yet, the way Grindelwald stood—one hand behind his back, half turned to face You-Know-Who's cauldron—it felt like he cared more for the ritual than defeating his enemies.

The Dark Lord simply let a continuous stream of magic into the whip, trying to overwhelm them with sheer power, rather than the skill that Rufus imagined he possessed.

And yet, from the looks of it, it was working. Even with Moody and Bones combining their elements, the whip was slowly but surely grinding through the yellowish sheet of ice.

Rufus wasted no more time. Now it was his turn to step forth as his wand danced through the air, every stroke releasing a spell with sharp accuracy. While he may not be an accomplished Elementalist, he was still a level 6 Auror—touching upon an entirely different level of spell casting compared to the average Aurors.

His spells—ranging from explosive Bombardas and piercing Reductos to quick Transfigurations—were strategically cast, targeting the area aroundthe Dark Lord rather than at him, in hopes to make it land.

After all, they were fighting a lone enemy as a combined group. No matter how powerful, even a second of distraction could prove fatal for the Dark Lord.

But Grindelwald wasn't called the Overlord of the West for nothing.

Without turning his attention, the Dark Lord held up a finger, and multiple force shields suddenly popped up into existence, accurately placed midair to intercept each of the spells away from his body. And just like that, Rufus' spell-chain fell apart way before they could ever hope to reach their targets.

'Wandless Elemental Magic.' Rufus grimaced. 'Of course.'

'Well, time to cast that horrid spell.'

Just when Rufus prepared to cast the Killing Curse however—something he knew even the elemental shields cannot block—the air around him suddenly became electrifying, the smell of ozone spreading through their side of the pitch, and he could sense a deep power rapidly building up behind him—like a dam about to burst.

Stunned, he turned back to see Lily Potter standing in the middle of a power vortex, her wand glinting with a pure white hue as she took control of her element.

'Beautiful.' His heart skipped a beat, taking in the stunningly beautiful redhead wielding such incredible power.

Up ahead, the other two elementalists matched the redhead's timing to cast their own spells, unleashing a horrifyingly powerful attack upon the Dark Lord.

Rufus' heart burnt as Bellatrix released her family magic, finally utilizing her main element—shadows. It wasn't the burning flame-like shadows that Grindelwald had produced, but the pitch black kind that bubbled beneath the Dark Lord's feet—earning the Black family their ancestral name.

Just as multiple strands of darkness lashed out at their target from one side, the earth trembled beneath the Dark Lord's feet; cracking apart to launch thick arms of wood and mud from the other side as James Potter cast his own family magic of earth element.

And yet, they weren't the main attacks. They were simply distractions meant to open up their target for the crackling bolt of lightning released from the wand of Lily Potter.

The power that she unleashed was such that it gladdened Rufus to count the redhead on their side. He wouldn't wish to stand against such raw might.

Thankfully for the Dark Lord, he was better than Rufus.

Much better.

With an irritated tsk, the man abandoned his whip—which had been barely half-a-feet away from cutting through the elemental shield—letting it disintegrate into nothingness.

The next second, a sphere of yellow energy entombed him inside its protective embrace as the attacks landed.

The strands of shadows struggled to pierce their way in, while the dirty wooden arms punched upon its pale surface uselessly.

Finally, the bolt of lightning met the shield of force.

Thunder rumbled upon the Quidditch pitch as the two elements met in a terrible display of power, the land around Grindelwald turning blackened as the green grass burnt from the impact. The lightning did not differentiate between friend and foe, burning away the spindly shadows and wrecking apart the earthly limbs.

Yet, when the dust settled, the overlord was revealed standing on the ground, utterly unharmed. If anything, he looked vaguely irritated as his shield was left weak and flickering, cracks marring its surface.

Rufus stood stock-still, mouth hanging open, as the Dark Lord tanked all of the attacks upon his single shield.

Oh, he knew killing Grindelwald wasn't going to be this easy. He hadn't actually expected for the attacks to land.

But he'd also expected the Dark Lord to at least struggle! To do something more impressive than just stand his ground passively.

Perhaps an impressive combination of mundane and elemental magic to put up a nigh impenetrable defense. Or perhaps a show of pure skills; casting magic with inhuman speed to deal with each of the attacks one by one.

What he never would've guessed was for the Dark Lord to just stand in place—eyes closed, wand held in front, and a hand inside his pocket—as a simple force shield revolved around him, stopping a combination of three powerful elemental attacks on their track.

'Perhaps that's something even more impressive.'

And not just block, as he found out the next second when the Dark Lord's flickering shield suddenly dissipated into motes of yellow lights that recombined together with the remnants of lightning, earth, and shadow—turning to a surreal mixture of elemental hue—to form a blazing inferno of multiple elements.

A twenty feet tall inferno that quickly took the form of a coiled cobra surrounding the relatively tiny figure of Grindelwald.

"It seems I may have underestimated you." The Dark Lord spoke out, his voice earning a small lull in the battle as the gathered wizards stared at the cobra coiled around the man with trepidation. "I'm afraid playing with you might exhaust more of my valuable materials, which just won't do. Killing had not been my motive today, but then again, it seldom is. All the same I must do what is needed. For the Greater Good."

He removed his hand from his pocket, throwing down a small broken container on the ground. "I have seen what you can do. Now it's time you lay witness to what I can."

Then the Dark Lord unleashed hell upon them.

The great elemental serpent came snarling, crossing the quidditch pitch in the blink of an eye, its jaw wide open—flaunting wooden fangs that danced with electricity.

Rufus' teammates reacted even quicker, everyone knowing exactly what to do. Minister Bones, Bellatrix, Moody, and James joined together to provide physical defense, while Lily started forming her lightning bolt again.

In a high-paced wizarding duel, a beginner using elemental magic would be an assured death sentence. Not only does it take intense concentration to sense the suitable element—which the user is most comfortable with—but it takes even more effort to exert your control over them—enough to shape them to a degree.

Which is why Rufus did not even bother using the paltry elemental magic—of the fire element—that he knew. Instead, he separated from the group—wand held aloft—in hopes to catch a distracted Dark Lord by surprise with a Killing Curse, or at least ruin his focus from the elemental monster.

Shockingly however, when he forced his gaze away from the behemoth serpent, he found the battlefield to be suspicious empty, giving him a clear line-of-sight towards the Death Eater's ritual as Sirius Black dropped a bone into the cauldron, chanting something inaudible.

'What!?' Frantic, Rufus did a full scan of his surroundings.'Where in Merlin's soggy beard—!?'

Shadows suddenly bubbled just beside his feet, giving him little chance to react as a whip of black fire once again materialized out of nowhere, coming straight for him.

'Protego!' He cast instinctively, and a protective blue wall flickered into existence.

Yet the whip melted the shield apart as if it weren't there, and the next second Rufus felt an uncomfortable heat spreading through his chest.

He gasped. Then choked, unable to gasp due to a lack of air. His hand pressed against his chest as his legs gave out, and his palm came up bloody.

'No, no, no, no, no. Not now, please.'

'Not like this'

His eyes went down to his chest, staring uncomprehendingly at the naked ribcage dripping with blood.

'Is this…the inside of my body?' Rufus asked himself, strangely confused. 'But…why am I not feeling anything then? Oh! It must be a dream.'

Now it made sense. Cause the only thing he felt from his open chest was a slight stinging and an incredible heat. Or was it cold, perhaps…? He couldn't decide.

'Yep, definitely a dream.'

And as his eyes gradually shut forever, Rufus let go—thinking he'd wake up after everything was over. Perhaps he may even throw a small party this time, the PR was sure to be good for standing up against the most successful Dark Lord of all time….

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When Harry and his group arrived in the stadium, it was to witness a scene of pure chaos.

The quidditch pitch was lit up by a multitude of torches hovering mid-air, illuminating the otherwise pitch-black night. The magic in the air was overwhelming, giving it a physical weight that Harry could almost taste upon his tongue.

Up ahead on the other side of the pitch, two groups clashed in a fierce conflict—their silhouettes dancing under the dark night as the fight raged on—neither one familiar to Harry's eyes. Although he did know which side he must support.

They were spread out upon the open field, almost two dozen in numbers; one group wearing Auror robes—though clearly not of the English variant—while the other group were garbed in black cloaks that were much more practical than the silly Death Eaters costumes.

Behind the battlefield was a wall of stone taller than three men stacked together, cutting through the quidditch pitch and extending over a hundred meters long—completely hiding the events happening behind it from Harry and his group's gaze.

Yet, he could still make out the bright flashes coming from behind it—though they looked much more natural than a spell's glow—and as his eyes scanned the battling forces—not finding Lily and Bella amongst them—there was no confusion in his mind as to his destination.

Neither, it seems, in the mind of his companions.

"He's here...N'thy." Longbottom elbowed Shacklebolt, pointing at—what looked like—the leader of the opposing force. "Aber N'thy, the level six Brazilian team-leader."

Beside Harry, Stella gave a very unconvincing cough. "Its…ah, Abernathy, Mr. Longbotttom. Just one word."

"Filthy name-changing bastard." Longbottom spat to the side. "Doesn't matter. All of you, follow me. We'll strike them hard and fast, not letting them know what hit em' until they're buried six feet deep."

Wanting to avoid further wastage of time, Harry quickly followed along as the Aurors took off—signaling his group to do the same—making their way across the quidditch pitch, wands held tight and ready for a fight—cautious eyes flickering around at the shadows every now and then.

His target wasn't actually the battle taking place in front of their eyes of course, but the one hidden behind the stone wall. He simply intended to break away from the Aurors once they reached their destination.

When the time came however—their feet coming to a brief halt as they surveyed the situation—Harry found himself hesitating slightly; his eyes falling upon the fighting figure of Tonks amongst the clearly struggling group.

The foreign Aurors—while skilled and numerous—were very close to being overwhelmed. The presence of a level 6 Dueler simply created too big of a gap for an extra member or two to cross.

Yet, as much as he liked Tonks—their recent bout of debauchery a sweet reminder of that—Lily and Bella were simply too important for him, undoubtedly his main priority.

Even so, the cold-hearted decision of abandoning Tonks pinched him in the guts tightly.

'But she'll have Longbottom and Kingsley though.' His mind comforted.

Decision solidifying, Harry occluded his momentary weakness away with a heavy heart, steeling his will to abandon a friend, and hope his allies were competent enough to turn the tide thoroughly.

Just when he made to command his team however, a group of people suddenly barged into the stadium from the official entrance one by one, laying into the enemies with a shower of spells.

He could make out the faces of the two eldest Weasley sons, followed by their father, while Andromeda Tonks trailed behind them in a much more sedate pace, though still huffing from exhaustion.

"Rejoice my friends!" Exclaimed one of the African wizards suddenly. "Reinforcement has arrived from both sides! Let us revel upon the greatest slaughter of this decade!"

Harry furrowed his brows. 'They are the good guys right?'

Beside him, Shacklebolt and Longbottom seemed to finally lose their patience and started bombarding the Alliance members from behind.

The new reinforcement gave the struggling group a much needed support, indeed turning the tide of the battle.

'They'll be fine.' Harry decided.

"Stella, Ms. Delacours, with me!" He snapped off, finally breaking away from the group as the edge of the stone wall drew closer.

"Mr. Potter?" Shacklebolt called after him as Harry broke into a run.

"I'm off for Grindelwald, you lot go and support those Aurors!"

He did not look back again, rapidly crossing to the other side of the wall, his feet crossing the distance in large leaps.

He'd just reached the thick front of the wall— heart pounding with anticipation and adrenaline—when a piercing screech shook his entire world, forcing him to a halt as he clutched his ears with a wince.

The earth rumbled beneath his feet, and he felt something truly magnanimous moving upon a shared ground.

When his eyes finally fell upon the monster—towering well above the stone wall—he was forced to let Occlumency reign upon his mind completely to stop from freezing up in sheer shock.

Easily as tall as a giant—and not the below average kind like Grawp—and made up of a patchwork of raw energies that Harry had only ever read about in his recent studies, the gigantic cobra sped through the lands towards a target out of his eyesight.

"Holy Morgan's soggy arse." He commented calmly.

Behind him, his group of females—having finally caught up to him—nodded at his words in utmost seriousness.

"Alright." Harry addressed them. "You've just seen what we are up against. I will not judge any of you for backing out now. Yes, even you, Stella."

He'd expected at least the last one to jump on the chance of escape, but all he received from the three was a steely look of determination.

"We came back to help you, Mr. Potter." Apolline solemnly said. "We will not abandon you at the end."

Fleur—and Stella, for some reason—nodded silently, their eyes still upon the elemental serpent.

"Very well then." Harry turned back. "Come, let's end this."

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Alice Longbottom quickly made her way through the mouth of the stadium's back entrance. Alongside her were the three eldest Weasley males as well as Andromeda Tonks.

They'd decided, after much arguing and muffled shouting, that Alice and William will enter the quidditch pitch to rescue Jacob and Nymphadora, while the rest would stay back guarding the kids.

Unfortunately, the entire argument became moot when the Weasley patriarch and his second son decided to tag along anyway, unable to let their eldest go into a magical fight alone.

Of course, how could Andromeda sit there quietly, ignoring the life of her daughter, after witnessing such familial love? Finding some sudden stubbornness in her Black heart, she didn't budge from her decision to fight for her daughter's safety.

Thus here they were, marching into death's maw with heads held high, stubborn and determined fools thinking they might change the course of history.

Alice sighed. 'At least Neville will be safe.'

But that was not enough. No matter what happens, she will have to drag herself and her husband back to their son; alive.

They had once deprived him of his parents, leaving the poor boy to fend against the world all on his own. He may have his grandmother, but Alice wouldn't count her as the best of guardians.

She loved her mother-in-law, truly she did, but the woman can be quite uppity sometimes, and she'd rather not leave her son with only Augusta as an influence.

'Not again.'

Not this time.

Thus it was, with determination to come back alive, that Alice Longbottom finally joined the battlefield.

The night was dark and full of terrors. The only source of light upon the quidditch pitch was the shy moon hesitantly peeking from behind the dark clouds, and a bundle of levitating torches spread across the pitch—burning with a powerful intensity.

And bringing the terror upon the night were the horrific sounds of battle ranging across the grounds. Screams, spell whooshes, splintering air and demolishing grounds, crackling bolt of lightning…they all combined to almost deafen her entire world as they arrived upon the battlefi—

'Wait. Lightning Bolts?"

"...Lily." She whispered, horrified by the conclusions. "And the only being who could force her to use it…"

Grindelwald.

…Well, unless Voldemort was back. In which case she must drag her husband and son and get out of this country with all haste.

No, not just the country, but the entire continent.

She'd heard India was quite lax with their magical immigrants. As one of the strongest wizarding countries—and quite far away from here—it would most likely be one of the last ones to gain the Dark Lords combined attention.

'And those flying carpets are quite interesting as well…'

All such thoughts left her mind when her eyes fell upon the massive stone wall dividing the pitch in two, each side housing a battleground.

"...Dora." William whispered, before dashing off in a mad scramble, taking the left side of the stone wall.

"Bill, wait!" Charlie ran off after him, "Think a little, stupid! We can ambush them from the side!"

But the eldest child seemed to be deaf to his younger brother's plea, and soon both had sprinted off, their voices disappearing into the mixture of chaos.

"…leaving an old man behind at this age..." Their father sighed, turning to give her a nod before taking off after the boys, his wand held tightly within his grasp.

Only she and Andromeda remained as the battle raged on around them. And Alice knew where the woman was going.

"I'll be taking the right side then." Alice announced before the woman could give her a farewell.

She might start doubting her decision to choose Grindelwald if she was left alone.

The Tonks matriarch gave her a grim nod. "Good luck."

"You too." Before her mind could whisper cowardly nothings, she took in a sprint.

Her destination? The greatest Dark Lord in existence.