Chapter 84: Awe Inspiring Savagery

They came at dawn in full strength. The walls were shattered and broken. The gatehouse was nothing more than a gently smoldering ruin. There was no keeping them out of the courtyard that lead up the doors of the Castle. The wards had dissipated long ago, and the ancient stone walls, its towers, balconies, and windows bore their wounds and scars of battle with honor, veterans in their own right.

The defenders had fallen back at the first sign of the assault and were now using the castle itself as their final bastion. The fight would come down to keeping them out of the castle itself. The last of their defenses were already prepped and in place and orders were clear to all involved. Ernie McMillian noted that the enemy had crossed the outer marker as his partner in crime Sierra Malkin oversaw the last of the defenders, pulling into the castle as the doors slammed shut with a shuddering crash of finality. The blur in the distance grew close and took form and shape. Death Eaters and the Effingus, a scattering of Dementors, a few trolls. But no Giants and even better: No dragons. The enemy was pushing hard, and she could see the Effingus leading the cheerful charge.

The defenses of the castle were a series of overlapping ambushes and retreats to split up the advancing enemy and overwhelm them in turn. Legion Control would be able to provide an overview of the fighting and hopefully keep communications clear. The vast majority of the students were already holding the Great Hall. Others were stationed in smaller groups at set points designed to cover the first retreats and deploy countermeasures. Rowena herself would be crucial to their defenses. She had animated the suits of armor that dotted the hallways of the castle, and many of her staircases would move to maximize confusion and casualties.

Harry stood alongside the defenders, behind a double rank of the armor suits, watching the front doors as the Patronus came down the stairs, coming to a rest in front of him. "Range in twenty." He sent an acknowledgment and transferred full authority over the first line of external defense. To Legion Command.

Lord Voldemort watched the defenders retreat, abandoning the walls and their defenses, fleeing before the might and numbers of Lord Voldemort's army. "It would appear that they are retreating," his voice was high with amusement and a malicious smile creased his features as his Death Eaters laughed sycophantically, "Hogwarts Castle is our final destination!" he said, "Our enemy lies within! They can no longer hide behind their powerful wards! Their walls are in tatters!" he proclaimed, "Advanced my loyal followers! Strike! Strike at the enemies of our world! Death Eaters: Advance and Attack!"

Bruce Springfield, third-year Ravenclaw felt sweat bead upon his brow before trickling down the side of his face. He ignored it. His focus was completely upon the magical display in front of him. It showed the progress of the Dark Army as they crossed the fifty-meter mark, well within effective range, "Loose!"

Over a hundred bowstrings thrummed as the volley of arrows were launched skywards. At the apex of their flight, they pivoted and slammed down into the front ranks of the Effingus Death Eaters. Every single arrow successfully hit something. Two trolls went down as did almost two dozen Effingus, many were perforated with multiple arrows. The second, third, and fourth salvos rained down, but Voldemort was ahead of the curve, conjuring a solid shield before him, expanding it to provide some cover to his Death Eaters. His lieutenants screamed for order, for everyone to back up and conjure solid shields to deflect the rain of arrows. "Muggle archery," muttered Voldemort, "I did not expect such dogged resistance, nor did I expect them to sink, to such a low!" He studied the ground which was studded with arrows and stared up at the castle. The towers were a good bet, but even as he watched, he saw specks of movement as defenders rained arrows onto his forces from windows and balconies all over the place. His voice dropped in volume, as the temperature around him fell an equal number of degrees as his anger rose, "Break. Down. Those. Doors!"

The first group charged with wands raised and aimed as another wave of arrows slammed down, only to be defeated by their conjured shields. The bombardment of hexes and curses, however, was another matter as many were violently killed or blasted apart. A second group charged in hot on the heels of the first and blasted back at the defenders who immediately ducked behind their thick stone cover. Both attacking groups swiftly merged, from groups who maintained shields while others lay down suppressive fire and pushed their way forward. Lord Voldemort himself advanced, stalking forward like a jungle predator, black robe billowing as the lust for battle began to sing in his veins.

The doors were still some forty meters distant as his wand spun and twirled. Targeted by at least six different Legionnaires, he deflected, slapped aside, or absorbed the incoming arrows and spells, without interrupting his spell casting. With a blast of thunderous sound, an angry red and ochre beam smashed into the gates. They shuddered on their hinges beneath the assault as the hastily, localized wards upon the doors were depleted. With a very uncharacteristic and terrifying smile of enjoyment upon his face, he continued to prowl forward as he hear his Death Eaters cast their own spells towards the still formidable castle doors under the guidance of his more than capable Inner Circle. They were hitting the doors with alternating barrages of fire; ice intermingled with the occasional blast of raw power.

Voldemort held his ground, maintaining a shield to protect his most loyal as the great doors began to splinter and crack. Harry studied the doors as cracks began to run up and down its length. He felt the ring grow warm again on his finger but didn't need to read. He knew that it reported the evacuation of the outer defenses was complete. The door shuddered, the cracks splintered into fissures.

"We're in deep shit here," remarked Ernie. He wore a bandage around his upper arm and mid-thigh on opposing limbs. His brown eyes were alight with a cold determination.

"We'll get through this," grunted Neville, the wizard's knuckles white as the bone around the grip of his wand.

Harry opened his mouth to reply when the fissures carved into the cracked doors ruptured, sending wood, stone, and steel through the entrance hall. Everyone ducked in to cover as the deadly rain fell upon them for only a moment. But that moment in cover saw dozens of the black-robed silver masked enemy charge into the entrance hall. The first blistering volley cut down nearly the entire front rank of the enemy.

A curse cracked into the stone pillar, missing Harry's head by a matter of inches. Stone dust lightly seasoned his hair as he gathered his magic and then swiveled out to meet the foe. A shield snapped into place along his left forearm as an ocean blue bolt of magic flared from the tip of the wand. A cluster of Death Eaters was blown off their feet as Harry led the countercharge into the teeth of the enemy. Four Death Eaters unleashed the same curse, a sparkling scarlet that rocketed towards him. With ease, Harry deflected back to their casters with a simple swish of his wand, only after amplifying their speed and power. The spell impact blasted through their shield charms and pulverized them.

Without breaking stride, he leveled his free hand and without uttering a word, yanked a Death Eater off its feet towards him. His wand rolled between his fingers, his grip switching round as a blade of pure magical energy erupted from the tip, extending until it was almost a meter in length, skewering the hapless Death Eater through the chest.

Up in the towers overlooking the castle, the commanders of the Archers could clearly see that the enemy was within their walls, "Brigade: Alpha break!"

In charge of the defense and leading from the front, Harry ordered a slight retreat. The fighting continued as the defenders gave some ground, pulling them into the foyer of the Castle, just out of blast range.

The path and lawn leading up to the castle exploded into a massive wall of screaming flame that devoured everything it touched. The defenders had spent a good part of the pre-dawn hours soaking the ground in the liquid components of the Dragon's Breath fuel supply. When mixed together, they were incredibly volatile. Harry was amazed that so much magic being cast over the stuff had not ignited the fumes. The flames reached almost twenty feet high and consumed much of the initial attackers. Those few that made it into the castle itself found themselves cut off by the flames as a wave of spells penetrated their shields and perforated the isolated few Death Eaters. "Guess you were right about the fumes dissipating," remarked Harry.

Neville shrugged, "I just wish we could do something about the current smell." It was a mix of boiling blood, seared flesh, and cooking stone as the foundations of the doors began to melt under the extreme heat, widening the breach in the castle's defenses. The flames would burn with ferocity but only for a few more minutes.

Voldemort was quick to adjust, using what rubble and corpses he could find as shields while the rest of his forces began to batter down the walls to widen the breach, eliminating the bottleneck. Moving forward, the Death Eaters fired a volley into the ceiling, showering the defenders with chunks of stone and rock, wounding and killing several of the Legionnaires outright.

"Retreat to position two!" ordered Harry. The frontlines withdrew smoothly, dodging spells, hexes, and curses that lanced through the now broken doorway. The retreat was not without its unfair share of casualties. Moving back to the various balconies and overlooks, the defenders pointed their wands at the doorway.

The castle itself had a plethora of defenses, chief amongst them was the wards and walls, added many years after its original construction. As such, those defenses within the castle itself could only function within the castle proper. Those defenses stepped down from their alcoves, forming a front rank of stone and steel statues brought to life at Rowena's command. They were all heavily armored and even more heavily armed, each standing between ten and twelve feet tall, armed with gigantic swords, held in a cross across their chests. In total, some eighty students, twelve statues, and six professors now held the Foyer and Entrance Hall of Hogwarts Castle against the Dark Army that had spent days bleeding against their defenses.

The Patronus flirted down through the stone ceiling but was obliterated by a rapid burst of three coppery green bolts that mowed through two of the castle's own defenders like a knife through butter. Stone slivers incapacitated two Legionnaires. Professor Vector's wand arm was severed mind-forearm by metal shrapnel moments before a high-speed projectile struck her in the face.

Neville was standing right next to her and watched in horror as her face formed a frown, then grimace and then adopted an impossible expression as a chunk of sword blade punched into her nose, and sucked her face in upon itself, moments before it exploded out the back of her head along with fragments of skull and brain matter drizzling down.

The Dark Army charged into the castle and met the stone statues that sprang to life, swords drawn and shields raised. A number of Effingus fired curses but most bounced off without effect. The killing curse does not affect the non-living after all. Guiding the constructs, Rowena guided them in a slaughter even as the statues were cut down with a combination of blasting hexes, cutting curses, and other dark magics.

The spellfire punished the statues that lead the defense and as the last one fell, Harry estimated over a hundred enemies dead in just the entrance hall. But even with the advantage of a kill-zone and higher ground, Harry found himself being forced to call one retreat after another using Devastator Crystals, Dragon's Breath in conjunction with fire-and-maneuver tactics until they were practically on top of the Great Hall and its pre-prepared positions. Killing the enemy was having next to no effect as they simply expended manpower in a manner not seen since the attrition wars of the Napoleonic Era where the side willing to bleed the most and lose the most men would win. Indeed, the Death Eaters seemed to have two replacements for everyone that they lost.

The last of the statues screeched in protest as its four arms wept laterally from left and right and smashed into a violet shield. Lord Voldemort finally crossed the threshold of Hogwarts. His crimson eyes gleamed with battle lust and pleasure at the scent of death and battle. His upheld wand by only his fingertips twitched and the shield inverted, wrapping itself around the sword-wielding defender before powerful, invisible forces crushed, forcing its arms and legs to cave in as its sundered torso was carelessly flung across the room. The Inner Circle added their powerful skill and experience to the battle as Crimson Eyes locked with emerald green.

They advanced towards one another, Legionnaires and Death Eaters alike parting before their Commander and Master respectively. They stopped by unspoken, yet mutual consent some ten meters apart. "Just like the graveyard" mused Harry, as he saluted his foe with his wand, "Welcome to Hogwarts," Harry said coldly as he dropped into a duellist stance, "Tom Marvolo Riddle."

The Dark Lord hissed in wordless anger but observed the formalities, with a very slight bow before adopting a more serpentine stance, wand raised overhead and attacked with his trademark killing curse. The torso of a broken statue leaped from the floor, intercepting the curse as Dumbledore himself stepped forward. "What the hell are you doing?" growled Harry.

"What I should have done, many years ago. What I failed to do when it came to Grindelwald," replied the headmaster calmly as he raised his own wand, "I will delay Voldemort for as long as I am able. Use the time: Rally your Legion and see to your stratagem. Today, you will end this, Mr. Potter."

Harry was about to growl a response when the fight broke out for real, as a series of curses snapped past the duo. "You cannot match me, Tom!" Dumbledore called as a series of explosive hexes blasted the flagstones at Voldemort's feet into a hail of stone knives.

Voldemort shielded easily, "I cannot be killed Dumbledore," he cast a spread of killing curses, "I am farther along the path to immortality than you could possibly realize. Death is not a limitation!"

"Perhaps not," said Dumbledore amicably, as a flick of his wand moved the stone torso to block the curses, before banishing the broken stone shards backward. "But your lack of imagination and creativity," the hourglasses that displayed the house points shattered, and hundreds of faux gemstones sped towards Voldemort, glowing with a magical heat, "is a limitation."

The wave of projectiles smashed off a conjured shield of stone and metal moments before the sharp shriek of agony escaped the lipless mouth of the Dark Lord. A rope of flame-seared into the flesh of his left arm. With a crack that echoed around the entrance hall, the flame froze and shattered moments before a dark wave of blackness raced towards the Headmaster.

With only seconds, he managed to redirect its path. The curse crashed into the head table, pulverizing stone and wood and much of the entire area. Risking a glance towards the doors, he could see that they were being pushed back as the dark army crossed the threshold of the castle. A trio of cutting curses cleaved into the Dark Lord's back, from right shoulder to left hip.

Voldemort faltered for a moment snarling in anger, "I will crush you beneath my boot and keep your soul as a personal plaything!"

Albus Dumbledore simply smiled, satisfied that he had drawn first blood, and proven to all that the Dark Lord was not immortal as he raised his wand and adopted a more defensive stance. He shielded and deflected with long-practiced ease before bringing down the ceiling with a wave of magic: A little more time for the besieged.

There was a strong smell of ozone and burnt magic, a crackling feel of static upon the skin, the overpowering smell of spilled blood and charred flesh. Harry ducked below an incoming curse and his wand flashed as a piercing curse streaked into his target's chest, killing it instantly. He ducked in to cover behind a pillar and took a moment to gather his breath. Taking a moment, he pulled the Marauder's Map from a pocket and studied it, noting where his forces had fallen back, and where they were still holding the line, and holding hard against their enemy.

He snarled in frustration and dispatched several patroni and tapped out a message to his Commanders, ordering a full retreat to the Grand Staircase on the far side of the Great Hall. The high ground would give them a momentary advantage. They had few advantages left and would need every single one in the coming hours.

His wand spun through the air, a circle overlaying a triangle before a harsh vertical slash and a poke. Demolisher crystals exploded, a string of firecrackers that crept up the walls and across the ceiling, bringing down tons of stone. Rowena herself had agreed to the drastic necessity of such a measure when it had first been proposed. Doing the best she could, a shimmering field of wards enveloped the stone. It would just buy them some time.

"The Wounded," a unit that had proved its worth in the earlier days of the siege and in their counter-assault against the dragon dropped Death Eaters. They were led by a different face, but still provided ample support and cover fire as they retreated up the stairs and reinforced the already entrenched defenders. "Where's Sybil?" shouted Harry.

"Slain," came the quiet reply from Beatrice, "Died buying time for us to fall back when we lost the greenhouses along with Sprout and Vector."

"Damn!" thought Harry as he hung back at the bottom of the staircase as his Legionnaires and students streamed past him. He paused as the headmaster staggered towards Harry, limping slightly as he bled from a number of shallow cuts and wounds. They stared at each other for a long, long moment, before Harry grabbed the man's arm, supporting him to the base of the stairs "Headmaster Dumbledore."

"Mr. Potter." They made their way up the stairs together, "I have failed you, Mr. Potter," said the headmaster quietly, breathing slowly but heavily, as blood stained his robes from the wounds to his shoulder and upper arm. They stood together at the top of the stairs, overlooking the Great Hall, the fallen students, the staff, and the Death Eaters. "At the end of it all," thought Dumbledore, "we all bleed the same."

He drew a bundle of papers from the front pocket of his robes, neatly wrapped, "My last will and testament," explained Dumbledore, "leaves the entirety of the House of Dumbledore to you." His eyes twinkled slightly, "It is not much, but I hope that it will serve you well."

With a start, Harry realized that the twinkle was not a signature wizarding effect, as it became a sparkle. These were tears, of what, or for whom, or why, Harry could not say. "You're not dying here you idiot," snapped Harry, "We planned for…" Harry came to an abrupt stop as he had an epiphany, "… you want this don't you?"

The headmaster nodded slightly, "We have walked different paths, and though they have converged and diverged repeatedly, this is where we part ways for the last time, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore, "Hogwarts will not fall, not while you still stand to defend her, and everything that she stands for. He is mortal and can be killed. Despite our… differences, and for what it is worth, I am proud of the man you have become. I have abandoned much, lost sight of a great deal more…" His voice trailed off, eyes misting as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. "Hogwarts has been my home for the greater part of a century. Prepare your warriors, and may you find victory this day as you fight."

Harry blinked in surprise at the use of a more traditional Goblin blessing, normally given upon the eve of battle, "Fight well, and drench your blade in the blood of your enemies," replied Harry with a nod as he made his way up the stairs.

He was about to turn when he spoke for the last time, "Mr. Potter… I have a final request, if I may?"

Harry turned to face his former mentor, turned nemesis, turned partial ally with a cautious nod, "When this is over, after Voldemort has been defeated, promise me: Do not shoulder the blame or responsibility for all that has transpired. Love… and live your life to its fullest."

"I will."

"Promise me, Mr. Potter," said Dumbledore.

Harry hesitated for a moment, "I promise." He held out his hand, "I wish… things were different."

They shook hands, for the first and last time, "As do I." It would take a whole other world for there to be friendship and true brotherhood between the two men. But in the here and now, they parted company as respectful acquaintances. Dumbledore broke away from him, his eyes looking over the balconies and railings where the full strength of the Legion now stood. "We will see each other again someday." It was goodbye. They both knew it, but neither would say the words.

Harry was halfway up the stairs when he recalled the words, something about acidic hate damaging both the vessel that contained it as well as what it sought to destroy. He turned, "When that day comes, call me Harry!"

"Only if you call me Albus!" Dumbledore did not walk alone as Fillius Flitwick leaped the balcony and joined the headmaster in his walk, "You should not be here old friend," said Dumbledore quietly.

"Where else should I be?" replied the Charms Master demurely, "Hogwarts is my home, much as it is yours."

"Indeed."

Albus Percival Wolfric Brian Dumbledore turned towards the mountain of stone and calmly, a curved shield snapping into place in front of him as the stone began to glow a deep volcanic mix of red and orange. Moments later, the wards collapsed as a wave of near molten stone blasted past around the shield, splattering the walls, floor, and base of the staircase, singeing stone, charring wood and bone as it vaporized cloth and flesh. Dumbledore lowered his shield as Voldemort stepped through the smoking aperture.

"This ends now, Dumbledore!"

"Indeed it does, Tom." His wand was already in motion as a flame whip snapped towards Voldemort. The flames were transfigured into a giant serpent which was banished with ease as he followed up with a barrage of curses. Weakened, the Dark Lord fell back, opting for a duelist shield over a full shield to conserve his remaining strength.

A lone reductor slipped by the shield and pulverized his right knee. Biting through his tongue, Voldemort's wand wove a complex healing spell that would restore his mobility for a few hours at least. Following up, Dumbledore lashed open the chest of Dark Lord with Severus Snape's own infamous cutting curse.

He fell back slightly, trusting in Harry to not let this opportunity go to waste: The Death Eaters, the true fanatics of Voldemort cause streamed past the dueling pair, knowing that interference would mean death. Dumbledore fought with an intensity not seen since his youth since his duel with Grindelwald. Dumbledore was not fighting for his life. He fought for his school, his home, and his students.

Voldemort roared in rage and disbelief as his opponent battled on, "Why. Won't. You. DIE?!" Dumbledore conjured a wall of granite as a trio of snap-cast killing curses streaked towards him. Two curses were stopped, spraying stone shards into the face of the headmaster. A flaring nimbus of flame erupted and Fawkes intercepted the final curse, dying and reborn all at once.

Having the high ground yet again, the defenders used it to devastating effect, cutting down the swarming Death Eaters. Harry was at the forefront, shielding and deflecting with one hand while spells flew from his wand. A vibrantly bright yellow and red beam seared a Death Eater with barely a sound as flesh sizzled into char. Harry spun, his wand banishing matched spears of ice at another target, even as a shield snapped into place. A blasting hex was redirected into the ceiling, raining stone shards and dust onto the defenders.

Alongside him, the duel had crossed much of the open ground, and the headmaster and Flitwick held the bottom of the stairs against Voldemort who matched both his adversaries in terms of physical aggression, endurance, and staying power as they mixed and matched offensive magic with Transfiguration and Charms. But all those watching could clearly see that the Dark Lord was able to hold his own against two opponents. And that his opponents were not just any wizards, but Albus Dumbledore himself, and an internationally renowned dueling champion and charms master: Fillius Flitwick.

Studying the scene before him, he knew that it was only a matter of time before the numbers would truly overwhelm those still engaged in a brawl to decide the fate of Light and Dark. Without hesitation, he cast a pulling charm, twisting it so that it pulled himself towards the target: The ruined doors to the Great Hall. Spells flashed past and chased him through the air as he landed and dove between the legs of the Death Eaters, more than happy to kill each other in a desperate attempt to kill him.

Casting a shockwave charm, at least a dozen fell, their leg bones and lower legs destroyed; Flitwick rose to his full three-foot height, his face was a mix of determination yet resignation as he flicked his wand in a series of forceful patterns, as a wash of powerful magic radiated into the walls and ceilings: He stood his ground for a long moment as a series of hexes and curses smashed into the refraction shield he had erected, allowing him to absorb the raw magical energy from the incoming barrage, channeling it into himself. He knew that he would have only moments before the sheer quantity of magical energy killed him.

He stared at the array of defenders, his students, his classmates, his friends, for a long moment, "Goodbye, my friends." His shield collapsed outwards in a flaring corona of energy as he cast what would be his final spell, "Tempestatem Infernus!" His voice was a shout of rage and power that reverberated around the corridor as his wand leveled towards the broken doors of the castle. The last thing he saw was the blend of shocked, scared, and terrified faces as the expanding nimbus became a roiling ring of fire. The ground grumbled then exploded as a ripping stone and rock and flame first obliterated the tangle of Death Eaters and then cracked the walls. More were obliterated, bodies crisped by the flames as stone shards tore through robes and flesh, cut into ribbons, leaving barely recognizable corpses in their wake.

Three writhed on the broken stone floor, barely alive as their lifeblood leaked out across the flagstones as the flames have congealed the blood of the slain as the arch-rivals let the last of the heat fade which waiting behind their shields. Those fighting within the confines of the castle were sealed within, the entrance to the Great Hall blocked by fallen stone, melted together by the majestic power of the last spell cast by Filius Flitwick.

Both let the stone dust settle as the smoke cleared, "He was powerful, for a half breed," remarked the Dark Lord as he sized up his opponent, adopting a more aggressive dueling stance, with his wand held chest high, spreading his weight evenly on both legs.

"He was," agreed Dumbledore, "He was no mere half-breed, however: He was my friend!" A jagged bolt of flame lashed towards his foe. Voldemort transfigured the tongue of flame into a serpent, weakening himself even as rage-fuelled the Dark Lord.

Standing his ground, Dumbledore banished the reptile as an array of cutting curses leaped from his wand. The Dark Lord gave ground as he blocked and evaded, saving his strength. Where Voldemort was driven by anger, Dumbledore was continually driven by what he fought: His school, and his students. A blasting curse broke the flagstones underfoot, stone shards cutting into the calves of the Dark Lord as a bone-breaking hex smashed into the Dark Lords' chest, shattering a number of his ribs. Albus Dumbledore did not have much more to give, but he knew it did not matter. Just a little more, then he could rest. He would be able to enjoy an eternity of rest.

Voldemort roared, a blend of rage, pain, and disbelief as Dumbledore pressed the assault. The Dark Lord snapped his head up, his gaze suddenly catching Dumbledore's, a piercing legilimency attack that was easily defeated by the impressive mental defenses of Albus Dumbledore. But it was merely a feint, one that caused the steady assault to falter for a fraction of an instant - A fraction too long: "Avada Kedavra!"

The bolt of acidic green death seemed to dribble off the tip of Voldemort's wand, crossing the expanse towards its target with infinite slowness. Those who watched it from the balcony would later describe it as one of the worst moments of their lives, as if the light itself was being snuffed out, leaving a dark trail in its wake. The curse did not strike with the brutality of any hex or curse, but seemed to caress the headmaster's robes gently, spidery lines of green lightning flickering outward from his chest. There was a mix of serenity and pleasant surprise upon the face of Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore as he slumped over to his knees and then rolled onto his side, wand rolling across the broken ground.

It was that moment, when all combat seemed to pause, as the Legionnaires ceased fire in disbelief, and the Death Eaters fell back, forming a rough semi-circle around their master. Voldemort stared at the body for a long moment before he began to laugh. Voldemort stretched out his left arm and a moment later, Nagina flowed out of the sleeve and coiled lazily at its master's feet. The Dark Lord hissed to his familiar and she turned, bringing herself upright as she unhinged her jaw, dripping venom onto the robes of the fallen headmaster.

"No!" a single voice rose in a defiant scream. It was a cry of pain and rage. It was a cry of the wronged. It was a cry seeking justice, "You shall not touch him!" Minerva McGonagall advanced down the stairs, casting a stream of spells. Fire, lightning, and ice from her wand as rubble transfigured and animated. Voldemort countered swiftly, blocking, deflecting, and countering what he could but her aggression had snapped the Legion from their stupor.

"All offensive! McGonagall's target!" roared Neville as he advanced down the stairs to stand alongside the professor he had feared and respected in equal measures for years. Where Voldemort could hold against a single infuriated witch, and perhaps even Neville Longbottom with ease, the bombardment lasted a little over twenty seconds, but hundreds of spells crashed into the Dark Lord's familiar. Even her magical constitution and toughened hide could not withstand such abuse as every bone within her body was alternately crushed, burnt, broken, pulverized, and cut.

Voldemort was left thunderstruck at the death of his beloved familiar, and at the loss of a Horcrux. A part of his mind noted with a detachment that not a single spell had actually struck the prone form of the deceased Albus Dumbledore. Not that he was overly concerned with either, as only a portion of his soul was lost, and that he had many more Horcruxes were secreted across the country. Not true immortality but then, he knew he was farther along his chosen path than anyone else could possibly imagine. He turned his attention to the Legionnaires and unleashed blast after blast of raw magic into the landing and balconies that overlooked the Great Hall. His Death Eaters joined in, obliterating several of the stone balconies and the Legionnaires behind them.

"My most loyal! My most faithful!" shouted Voldemort, "Now is your time! Show these insolent children who are the true master of the Wizarding World!" The Death Eaters howled in adulation and followed their Dark Lord into battle. They fought their way through the rain of spells, casting as they went. Harry saw that these were no Effingus. These were true Death Eaters who believed in their cause. Warriors of courage as volley after volley of lethally effective Legion spell fire harvested a bloody toll.

They advanced to the bottom of the grand staircase, heedless of their losses as Voldemort himself stepped forward to lend the strength of his shield to the assault. The grand staircase was a killing ground: Fully bracketed from above, the carnage of the killing ground did nothing to deter the Death Eaters who crossed behind shields of magic and conjuration, a sight of awe-inspiring savagery.

They had been killing each other for days, weeks… longer. It did not matter anymore. All that mattered now was that the goal was in sight and that the end game could begin. With a bestial roar, he leaped the railing smashing his knees into the chest of a Death eater, driving him to the floor, he rolled as several curses obliterated the corpse and cracked the stone where he had landed only moments before.

Rising to his feet, he summoned Dumbledore's wand to him and cast with both hands outstretched before him, "Avada Kedevra!"