Chapter 69 Fudge and Dark Skies

The days in the aftermath of the Battle of Grimmauld Place were quiet enough. The Death Eaters were hopefully reeling from their defeat, and the loss of Bellatrix Lestrange, who had been one of Voldemort's Inner Circle, and top lieutenants. The accurate coverage in both The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet had silenced the rumor mill and gossip mongrels. There was no coverage of the memorial service – at least directly – and Harry had ordered a near ruthless press blackout on the subject: Neither publication carried word of the event, and as far as Harry was concerned they never would, "It's a private affair, and the last thing any the Fallen deserve is to have their memories trampled on, or the grieving families to be subjected to crap." There was, quite simply no changing his mind on the subject, especially since they privately agreed.

For the moment, he had no doubt that the Death Eaters would first want to lick their wounds, before going ahead with any other militaristic actions. That presented a narrow window of opportunity for Harry to capitalize upon. It had taken him almost a day to compose the letter that required a great deal more political finesse than he was used to, and had taken almost two dozen attempts and suggestions from everyone to come up with what they could agree upon as the "perfect balance" between demanding and requesting the meeting in question.

When Harry had whistled for Hedwig, she swooped in and landed lightly on his shoulder. She cooed softly in his ear, "I miss them too," he whispered, "How's Crookshanks?" If owls could snort in derision, the sound would have spoken volumes. As it was, the head shake and eye-rolling made clear that Crookshanks was having far too much fun, living it up in the lap of luxury, "I'll reconsider your proposal for a feline treadmill?" said Harry playfully.

The only response was a baleful glare from across the office, accompanied by the thumping of a tail against the sofa cushions. Harry had no doubt it was a bark of laughter that escaped his owl familiar, "Get out of here before you get me in more trouble!" he said with a laugh.

She nipped his ear affectionately and with a flap of her wings, she was gone. The response was unsurprising, not long in coming. The Minister of Magic had actually penned, signed, and sealed the response himself:

"Greetings Mr. Potter.

On behalf of the Ministry of Magic, I would be delighted to meet so that we can clear the air between us. I find your choice of meeting place and the time to be acceptable. I look forward to seeing you this Saturday at Noon. My only request is that we keep the number of people involved to the bare minimum. I understand that you have retained legal counsel in the form of Ms. Marinashka of Gringotts, and she is more than welcome to attend our discussion.

Thank you for your time and attention,

Yours sincerely,

Cornelius Oswald Fudge

Minister of Magic."

It was gratifying that the Minister had accepted his terms, especially since Gringotts was anything but neutral where Harry was concerned. Besides, given recent events, he had doubts that this particular meeting could take place anywhere safely. There was simply no telling just how widespread Death Eater infiltration was. Given what his various sources had successfully pieced together, the conservative estimate was about half the Ministry.

They had been in the midst of a training match when Dobby appeared with the Minister's missive, "He's agreed." said Harry quietly.

"Harry, you're sure about this?" asked Neville, "It's something we've discussed and thrown about but now... well..."

Harry ran a hand through his hair, "I don't know if peace is something that I want. It's what I need. I can't continue to fight Voldemort, Dumbledore, and the Ministry. After what's happened, I can't ever trust Dumbledore. It has to be the Ministry, and that means Fudge." Trusting Voldemort was never going to be an option. But then, most of them had their doubts about trusting the Ministry given the events of the past two years. The question was not whether the Minister and Harry could bury the hatchet, but whether one would bury said hatchet in the other's back.

However, Ginny was sure that whatever he was asking for, it would be for others. No doubt Sirius would factor in somewhere, as would probably the werewolves and vampires. "You're going to make a deal with him aren't you?" she asked.

"I'll hear him out at least," admitted Harry, "But if I like what he has to say, then I don't see why I shouldn't make a deal. Marinashka will be there, and our memories would be more than sufficient evidence at any trial or if he should go back on his word." He glanced around at his friends, "I'm guessing that none of you want me to deal?"

"Don't ally with him or deal with him because he is the lesser, or rather least of three evils," said Neville, "Voldemort," Neville laughed darkly, "Dumbledore and Fudge.. which is worse?"

"The fifty million Galleon question," agreed Harry, "I trusted Dumbledore above and beyond all others, for so long. I took my life into my own hands, and he tried… he succeeded to a large degree, in fucking up my life, making it hell from the day I was dropped on the Dursley's doorstep. That's what makes the two different: Fudge at least has fucked me over, but done it publicly and to my face – he's got that much in common with Voldemort if nothing else – and he's looking at political survival: I can help him get that if I get what I want."

"Better the devil you know…" mused Gred,

"Than the devil you don't," replied Feorge.

The twins were of the opinion that Fudge was on the level, and they raised the possibility of Percy being behind the whole thing – that particular young man's intelligence had never been in doubt, just his common sense. Moreover, since Percy still held his position with Fudge, he must be doing something right beyond being a bootlicking yes man.

No. It could not hurt to hear the Minister out, especially if a lasting agreement of some sort could be brokered. Harry studied the frozen battlefield before him, including the half dozen equally motionless Death Eaters, "Aln, please reset scenario seventeen." Scenario 17 had them fighting through the halls of Azkaban itself, in what was essentially a jailbreak gone badly wrong. It took only a few moments as the entire scene shifted and changed. Within a minute, the six were standing outside Azkaban, ready to break in. It was simply amazing what sufficient Galleons could buy, "Let's do this again… and I'll try not to trip the alarm charms again," he added.

Harry stepped from the flames and scanned his surroundings cautiously. Even though there were few places as safe and secure as Gringotts, he found himself wondering where the Aurors would be hiding. Just to ram the point home with Percy, Harry had brought Ginny along. The twins had declined, given that their presence would make the meeting far more awkward than it would have to be, especially since Percy's estrangement was almost absolute. There was also the fact that having Ginny around would keep Harry grounded, and prevent the possibility of Harry giving away the proverbial farm.

They walked into Gringotts and were immediately greeted by Griphook, who lead them towards a private meeting room. Somehow, they were not surprised to find both Minister Fudge and Percy sitting down at a table quietly talking. Fudge was on his feet and stretched his hand out to Harry within moments. "Mr. Potter, Ginner... Ginny, Marinashka. A pleasure to see you all."

Harry nodded coldly, ignoring the outstretched hand of the minister, "Minister, thank you for agreeing to meet us," he looked past the minister and stared at Percy, with an equally cold expression, "Percy."

"That's Mr. Weasley to you, Potter," he snapped. Indeed, Percy did not look thrilled to see either of them. Harry and the Minister however did not miss the dark looks that passed between the estranged siblings.

"Certainly Percy," replied Harry, "Shall we?"

Having taken their seats, Marinashka strolled through the door, and without comment took the seat to Harry's left. The next fifteen minutes were spent lost in idle chit-chat, polite inquiries about work, schoolwork, family life, and so forth, to Harry's complete and utter irritation. The only thing that kept him from snapping was Ginny's vice-like grip upon his hand. Harry was now truly and utterly convinced that the Minister was not under an Imperius Curse, because there was nothing between his ears for the curse to take over – even magic has its limits. How in the world the Minister could miss that Harry was not interested in "friendly" was beyond him.

"Mr. Potter, I believe that we should get the most obvious out of the way. Firstly, I owe you an apology, for what transpired last year, with regards to what was printed in the Daily Prophet, and for what happened with Umbridge last year. I trusted her, far more than I should have, and… we all know the results of her reign of tyranny. And the Dementors she sent to Little Whinging," Fudge could only shake his head, "I have had her removed from office, reprimanded, sanctioned, and demoted. I want her where I can keep an eye on her, not roaming around. I am sorry."

Harry nodded. That was a start at least, and said as much, "Apology accepted Minister Fudge." The minister breathed a little easier for a few moments, "When are the trials of the Death Eaters captured at the Ministry going to take place?"

"The first Monday in November I believe is the time…..what was the date exactly Percy?"

"Monday 4th of November, sir."

"Yes, that's it. Lucius Malfoy will go first, then the others in succession. Since he is their leader, once we have convicted him, the others will be convicted in short order. I have no doubt your testimony alone will put them in Azkaban for life."

"My testimony," mused Harry, "Is there any reason I should give it? Considering that Death Eaters seem to take stays in Azkaban as a holiday from Voldemort and his Crucio, I'd be better off letting the gue'la shar-zkha go free and let natural justice take its course."

Harry wondered if Fudge would bring up the topic of his godfather or not, and found himself disappointed that the theories of the minister attending this meeting had anything to do with Percy's persuasion - especially if the surly, silent young man's behavior was anything to go by. But the minister was not willing to go there just yet, "I understand that you are having some… difficulties with regards to Dumbledore?"

Harry's eyes narrowed and even Ginny's gaze hardened slightly. Marinashka made her first foray in the conversation, carefully, "He is a powerful wizard with a powerful presence as his tenure as the Headmaster of Hogwarts means that he has touched the lives of virtually every witch and wizard in Britain over the past few decades."

The Minister nodded, and Marinashka pounced, "You have someone inside the Order of the Phoenix, do you not?" Percy's eyes went wide, and the minister looked particularly impressed.

"Yes I do."

"I don't need to know who," replied Harry. It appeared that the two men had reached something of an accord at that particular moment, "It is certainly a wise move to keep an eye on whatever Dumbledore and the Order get up to." Harry glanced discreetly at his watch. He had spent more than enough time, wasted more than enough time. It was time to cut to the heart of the matter. "Minister, while I believe we have cleared the lingering ill will between us, I have other matters to attend to. What do you want?"

"What do I want?" He laughed, "What I want is Voldemort killed. He's tried to kill you so many times, and frankly, there have been rumors that you were offered a place at his side."

Harry rested his eyes against the palms of his hands, unsurprised that word of that offer had leaked out, "Five years ago, when I battled him for the Philosopher's Stone, he did offer the resurrection of my parents in exchange for my loyalty, and the stone." Harry simply could not process that Voldemort expected him to switch sides. He shook his head, trying to still his anger and rage, "You know what happened to Hermione," he whispered, dangerously quiet, "You think I would join him after what he did to her that night? Put yourself in my accursed position: Would you join him?"

Percy looked affronted at that question, but to his credit, Fudge didn't bat an eye, "A valid question." The minister pulled the sleeves of his robes up past his elbows, "The answer is no."

Harry did not hesitate, gently slipping a legilimency probe in to the Minister's mind. He did not have to look very hard to find that he was telling the truth on that score at least, "So then, what do you want?"

"What I would like from you, is a show of public support to the Minister, perhaps share information from our different sources but I want us to work together to take the fight to Voldemort and his Death Eaters."

"Fine words," Harry replied, "But to, ensure my cooperation, I have a number of requests."

"You are not requesting," snapped Percy, "You're making demands! This is not some, muggle flea market where you can buy and sell! The Minister of Magic has requested your assistance and as a wizard of Britain, you should assist for that reason if nothing else!"

Percy suddenly found himself on the receiving end of the very withering and pointed glares from the other four people at the table and he wisely subsided as Harry continued, "Consider these requests as compensation for what your office, your ministry has done to me over the past few years. We will start with Sirius Black. Friend of my parents who was never their secret keeper. I want him cleared of all charges, and pardoned posthumously. You can say that a large amount of circumstantial evidence has emerged that exonerates him. A reward should be announced for the capture of Peter Pettigrew, dead or alive. You do that in a press conference, and I will make a generally positive statement, and provided we can continue to work together beyond this occasion, I will be available for comment at a slightly later date."

It would be a small matter, though it would probably take several weeks to spin the story to the satisfaction of both parties he agreed. In essence, if Harry believed, then everyone else would quickly fall in line over what to believe. "Secondly, I want the anti-werewolf legislation on the books revised or repealed. Werewolves are dangerous but those with access to the Wolfsbane Potion should be allowed to hold jobs. I also want word of a Wolfsbane trust to be spread. The Goblins of Gringotts," he nodded pointedly to Marinashka, "have agreed to administer the trust. The Ministry only has to agree with the idea."

The minister nodded thoughtfully. That he could do, but it would take some time to gather the required votes, though he was confident he could convince Dumbledore to support such a move. "This will be difficult as it requires a two-thirds majority to repeal or revise any law already in effect. In this matter, I am confident that Dumbledore will vote with me, and thus with you, but this might have to be postponed until after the trials of the Death Eaters in November."

"Done," said Harry, "The next few items should be pretty simple," Marinashka passed over a list of names, "I want signed Apparation licenses and authorization for these individuals to use Avada Kedevra. The second list: Every name is to be granted full wand rights."

The minister stared at the first list, "The Apparation licenses can be owled to you before days' end. Avada Kedevra," for the first time, the minister hesitated, the wheels churning in his mind, "I will authorize this, personally, but only for these seven names. No more." Harry nodded, "But this list of names... these are all Hogwart students Harry. I do not think..."

"Battle of Grimmauld," Harry said, "Let's not pretend that you don't have Unspeakables from the Department of Mysteries trying to chase the magical signatures. Heck," said Harry, taking a somewhat perverse pleasure in the fact that Percy flinched at his choice of words, "I'm pretty sure you know everyone involved in the battle. But you have not moved against them: I would know if they had received owls, similar to the one I received about two years ago."

"I target them and you would bring the full force of your legal team down upon the Ministry, and the ax blow would fall upon my head. I would not survive the vote of no confidence. There's no telling who they would put in office to replace me. It could be Madame Bones, Thicknesse, or even you."

He laughed. Minister of Magic? Him? Not bloody likely. "Perhaps we can come to a compromise that will satisfy us both?"

"Is there anything else that you want?" countered the minister.

"Just one final thing," admitted Harry, "and it's plenty easy. I want the next available promotion to go to Arthur Weasley. If he refuses it, then he gets a pay rise equivalent to said promotion. His family - for the most part - deserves this at least."

Upon later reflection, Ginny would realize that none of Harry's requests of the Minister, or the ministry for that matter had gained him anything at all: He had protected his friends, cared for the well being of her family, and ensured that none of the Legion need fear a notice regarding the misuse of magic.

"A number of our department heads are fast approaching retirement age; I will have a discussion with Mr. Weasely when the time is appropriate." Harry nodded his agreement. The last thing he wanted was for someone to get fired, "However your request," the minister tapped the parchment on the table, "Two hundred is a lot of names. A compromise: I will approve those students in their sixth or seventh years. The others will gain their wand rights once they have completed their OWLs, or turn fifteen, whichever comes first."

He ran the numbers in his head. That left him with just over half the Legion's immediate strength for any... unsanctioned field trips, and the rest to support and defend Hogwarts. "Acceptable," said Harry at last, "All apologies accepted in exchange, and I will want those licenses and waivers by the end of today, the announcement of Sirius Black's exoneration before the 1st of September. The trial of the Death Eaters is going ahead and I will be there as a witness. After those trials are concluded, the Wolfsbane Trust is to be announced. In exchange, I will support and cooperate in the war against Voldemort, starting at the press conference, and at the trial of Lucius Malfoy and the others who were captured." He stood and extended his hand to the minister who shook it, wearing a massive smile that threatened to crack his face in half.

"I hope that we have reached a turning point in this war," said the Minister cordially.

"We have," agreed Harry as he tightened his grip on the minister's hand, "But I give you fair warning: Minister or not, treachery will be met, and dealt with, harshly."

The minister blinked and a flash of fear crossed his face, but he mastered himself even if Percy looked like he was about to call in Hit Wizards. All Harry got was a firm nod, acknowledging the point, "I will inform you as soon as the press conference for Black is arranged and Thicknesse will contact you regarding the pardon papers, which will be sent to you. Good day, Mr. Potter."

"Minister."

The press conference announcing the pardon of Sirius Black took place at the Ministry of Magic in the third week of August, and the Ministry did an excellent job of spinning the decision based upon an article that had appeared in The Quibbler nearly a year and a half ago, which had started the investigation. Flanked by Harry and Percy, Dumbledore stood off to one side and was only there in body, as the Legion Counsel stood on the other side of the same stage. Minister Fudge spent a good fifteen minutes explaining the background and filling in the history and frankly admitted that he had agreed with the decision to sentence Black without a trial. Harry himself had a few words to say about Sirius, their relationship, his parents, and the betrayal that they had suffered at the hands of Peter Pettigrew. One reporter had questioned how the relationship was between Harry and the Ministry. Harry had said there had been bumps in the road, but that they were on the same side in the war against Voldemort. The media swallowed it whole.

Of course, Dumbledore was more than a little put out when he had been literally summoned and told to attend while keeping his mouth shut. What frustrated him the most was that he had been pressuring Fudge for two years to do something, and while it was no secret that Fudge and Harry had met, it amazed him that once Harry had asked, Fudge had written the pardon and the wanted notice for Peter Pettigrew at record speed. Dumbledore found himself wishing for the opportunity to have a chat with a Veritaserum intoxicated Harry Potter to figure that out, more so given the history between Fudge and Harry.

Remus Lupin, last of the Marauders simply could not believe that this day had come, especially without the capture of Peter Pettigrew. Harry had ensured that if all else went to hell, he could die a happy man, knowing that his friend's honor had been restored. Harry's choice was the right one, and he had taken steps to ensure that his family was all protected, no matter what happened. His mind flashed over the preparations that Harry had made for all of them, should the worst happen, but banished the thought to the recesses of his mind. Now was not the time for that.

Tonks and Mad-Eye were, of course, more than a little impressed, and a touch concerned with the deal made, but then both knew that while Harry listened to, and would at the very least hear and consider what they had to say, he was ultimately his own man, and would make his own decisions. They also knew that Harry Potter being Harry Potter, he would stand by his choices, personal costs be damned.

The entire press conference lasted a little less than an hour, and Harry made clear that he was not going to be answering any questions. That suited both men quite well: Harry managed to stay out of the limelight, and Fudge got all of it and he fielded the questions asked with practiced ease. But given there were no real hardball questions, Fudge truly held court with ease before the conference closed. Harry, of course, had interviews to give to both The Quibbler and the Daily Prophet.

Beyond London however, events were in motion, the Death Eaters had regrouped, and strengthened their number as far as possible. They had lost the Battle of Grimmauld Place with what were essentially minimal casualties. However, Voldemort was far from defeated: The city of Newcastle upon Tyne, commonly known as Newcastle in North East England was historically a part of Northumberland on the north bank of the River Tyne has a rich history dating back to the time of the Roman Empire. As one of the top twenty cities in terms of population, "Geordie" as the locals refer to it has a reputation for having an interesting and varied nightlife. Tonight, however, that nightlife served a darker, and far more malevolent purpose.

The offices had let out for the day, the store owners were open later to cater to the tourists who had flocked to the quayside in what seemed like record numbers. The forecast had called for a beautiful sunny summer day. Coupled with the fresh breeze coming off the river, it was simply packed during the day, and the crowd swelled in anticipation of a good time with friends out for drinks, or dinner with family.

Those of non-magical blood could not see them, but more than one person had seen the cloud bank, darker than night itself, blotting out the star-filled sky, that rolled in upon the quayside. None of them could miss the sudden, sharp drop in temperature that had their breath fogging before their eyes. The few magicals in the immediate area included the fifth-year Hufflepuff Simon Townsend and several others. They could see what the fast-approaching cloud of darkness truly was, "Mom! Dad! Get inside!" he shouted as he ran into his father's pub, "Shut the door and windows! NOW!"

"What's going on?"

Knowing he was about to violate Merlin alone knew how many different statues of law including the Decree for Underaged Wizardry as well as the international statute of secrecy, not to mention the Legion's own unwritten rules, he drew his wand, earning a number of bemused expression and outright laughter from a number of patrons. "Protectus Totalus!"

The laughter stopped as the windows and doors glowed blue for a moment and then slammed themselves shut, latches and locks turning. He tapped the silver ring upon his forefinger, and focused his thoughts, sending out a message that he hoped would reach the Legion, "Dementors are coming," he said quietly to his amazed parents, who had never seen the magic their son wielded.

His father peered through the window shutters, "I can't see a thing, Simon. Stop joshing about!"

"You can't see them because you're not magical!" he grabbed the phone and dialed a number, only to curse in frustration: Dementors are magical creatures and such a concentration of them would make any form of even moderately advanced technology worthless.

Simon Townsend and everyone else may not have been able to see Dementors but they could certainly hear something trying to break through the barred door and shuttered windows. He could see their effects on everyone around him, feel it draining the happiness, the life, the will to resist right out of him. "Expecto... expecto patronum!" Nothing. He cursed, focusing his thoughts. He thought back upon his life, searching for that happy memory and it came to him, he felt it within, the love, the kindness, the acceptance of his parents when they had received the letter, of professor McGonagall's visit some six years before. How so much that had been "strange" had been explained. "Expecto patronum!" he roared.

From his wand a large shape erupted, the silver mist quickly taking shape. It seemed to growl as it reared up onto its hind legs, the ten-foot-tall Grizzly Bear seemed to slap its front paws together, in eager anticipation of the coming fight.

The doors finally gave way beneath the incessant clawing and pounding and the bear charged head-on into the horde of Dementors. He breathed a sigh of relief as they scattered. They had bought a few minutes - he hoped.

A scream.

He turned. A woman was hanging in mid-air the skin of her arms turning pale as some unforeseen force held her off the floor. His Patronus was far too busy guarding the front of the pub. This one had slipped in somehow: The broken window in the kitchen. He took aim, "Perspicuus Lancea!"

It was easily the most powerful, targetable spell that the young man had in his repertoire of spells, and he spared no effort, as the beam of white luminescence punched a hole through its chest and up through its cowl.

Under the flare of magic, perhaps the young woman caught a brief glimpse of a nightmare brought to life, one that stole her voice just as the Dementor wanted her soul. He took two steps forward, shaking slightly, wand raised, "Back off!" he shouted.

The Dementor paused as if sizing him up for a moment and then hovered forward, reaching out with its decaying, skeletal hands.

"Expecto patronum!" A silver falcon soared past him and slashed at the Dementor's face with ethereal claws. It broke off and fled back the way it had come. Simon sagged in relief as a half dozen witches and wizards stormed forward, lead by a shocking pink-haired witch, "Aurors! All offensive! Take my target!"

She marked a Dementor with a simple color charm and five voices chorused, "Iuogolo patronum!" Despite the stupidity, governmental incompetence, backstabbing, double-dealing reputation of the Ministry, it was part of the legacy of Amelia Bones that Aurors knew how to kill Dementors. After all, one does not simply employ a race of damned, demonic lost souls without having some way to kill them.

She tagged another one, "Nice job kid! Anyone hurt?" a flurry of spellfire saw the creature explode, its dark robes pierced by five spells were all that remained, fluttering to the ground where it decayed, leaving a charred stain upon the road. Smoke rose as the tar began to bubble.

"None," he replied, "but if you've got some chocolate..."

She handed him a bar and paused when she saw the ring on his finger, "Legion?" she whispered.

"Forever against the Darkness," he said, eyes widening in surprise.

She quickly stripped off a glove, revealing the same silver ring on her middle finger, "Ready for when war is waged," she replied, "Name?"

"Simon, Townsend. What's it like out there?" he asked quietly.

"Tonks," she replied, "It's dead bodies from here to breakfast. Hundred plus Dementors.... the muggles, they never stood a chance."

Tonks turned to the gathered muggles, cowering at the back of the pub, behind the counter, "Listen to me very carefully," she said, "You all stay close to the six... seven of us," her wave encompassed Simon, "You wander off, you will die, and I will not risk everyone's life to save one. Am I clear?" there were silent, fearful nods all around, "Stick with us, stay alive!" she turned to her Aurors, "Defensive circle and keep your Patronus ready. " she nodded to Simon, "Stay close to me."

He nodded, "Where are we heading?"

"Ministry evacuation point, about three blocks away."

Nobody questioned the men and women in snug-fitting body armor waving wooden sticks that directed them to safety inside what was essentially cordoned off crossroads. Simon saw the Aurors maintaining a perimeter of Patroni to keep the Dementors at bay. It wasn't going to be enough, he quickly realized: The Aurors had killed perhaps a dozen, that still left more than eighty of them, and if he could tell... "They're preparing to attack."

Tonks nodded tightly, taking aim and unleashing a silvery beam that seemed to carve a Dementor in half, "And we can't hold them off," she replied looking around at the dozens of bodies, interspersed with those of fallen Aurors, lying with open sightless eyes: The bodies were alive, but their minds had clearly been ripped away, leaving ruined husks.

It was clear that the Dementors had come to the conclusion that they could not breach the Patronus-filled perimeter and swept away. She frowned at that but focused her attention on evacuating the muggles: Each one that made it in was slapped with something that was the size of post-it note and promptly vanished: The Department of Mysteries was awaiting their arrival where they would be processed: Given a medical check, treated for any wounds, subjected to a little memory modification and returned to their homes.

Simon however, had no intention of going anywhere. His parents were safe, that was all that mattered. The air turned cold, "Iogulus Patronum!" Where the Aurors had produced focused beams of silvery lasers, his was more of a diffused spread, like water spouting from a broken fire hydrant. But it would do, forcing the creature to break off its attack.

"Iogulus Patronum!" six beams lanced out from the crowd of Aurors. The Dementor exploded in a shower of black greasy ash.

Simon felt the ring on his finger grow warm and scanned the message: Legion reinforcements and they were coming in all from all over the place: The Dementors would cut them down, he realized. He focused his magic and fired a cerulean beam of energy into the sky. It exploded outwards, taking shape: A phoenix, clutching an Axe in one claw, a wand in the other, marked his position, and that of the Aurors.

Instantly, there were multiple snap cracks as Legionnaires apparated to his side, and he breathed a sigh of relief: The Core group were the first to arrive.

Harry paused a moment to study the emblem floating in the sky, "Nice," he said, "Who's work is that?"

"Mine, sir!" replied Simon, stepping forward.

"Drop the sir crap," said Harry, "You know my name, use it, Simon." The wizard nodded in awe at the fact that Harry knew his name, "Dementor attack?" There was another string of snap cracks as more Legionnaires joined their ranks.

"Hundred or more, I... we've been evacuating the muggles," Harry looked around and said nothing as the Auror let their perimeter of silvery-white animals fade away. Maintaining a Patronus takes magic, energy, and focus. Better to summon them again than be too weak to maintain them. The sweep of his gaze took in the muggles and magical, their unseeing eyes, faces frozen in a rictus of terror. So many dead... and many, many more who would be better off dead. He shook his head, knowing there was nothing he could have done for them.

"Incoming!" screamed someone. The sky darkened as the Dementors, clustered together swept down towards them, a mob of terrified muggles just ahead of them. A quick count made clear that only forty Legionnaires had responded to this particular summons. Harry somehow, was not surprised: Many of the Legion could not even get the silvery mist of a Patronus.

There are two types of enemy to be utterly cautious and careful when fighting. The first is that which is completely and utterly methodical, with a strong command structure that can receive orders, and ensure they are carried out no matter what the cost. The second is the utterly bestial and barbaric that knows neither fear nor pain and would stop at nothing to achieve victory. The Dementors were embodying the strengths of both: Eighty plus dementors in their trademark tattered black robes closed the distance, herding the muggles who were running for their liv... "Tonks!" Harry yelled, "They're using the muggles as a stampede! They'll overrun us and the Dementors finish us! "

She hesitated, staring down the street. At least a hundred, perhaps two hundred muggles, against their paltry sixty or so: They wouldn't be able to cast enough stunners, or erect wards to slow the tide. A physical barricade would only slow them, and make them fodder for the Dementors. Either way, she realized, those men and women were already dead.

She bore a haunted expression upon her face, "Aurors! Legion! Volley line fifteen four! Two cycles! Apparate out!" Harry nodded. It was his Legion, but when it came to fighting Dementors, the Aurors certainly had the edge in training and experience. "The Dementor Killer," she shouted to the Legion, "Work's just like the Patronus Charm. Incantation: Iogulus Patronum!"

They formed four ranks of fifteen as instructed and waited. The tide of humanity came closer, so did the Dementors. At fifty feet, there was no real need to aim: The Dementors were the big black cloud hanging above the condemned, "Fire one!"

Fifteen beams of silvery light smashed into the Dementors, injuring if not killing several. There was no way to tell given the moving mass of blackness. The first ranks retreated and reformed their line as the second wave of fifteen white lasers spat forth. Not as effective as the first, given it was the first time the Legionnaires had ever used this particular charm, but at least one Dementor was decapitated in the volley.

Again, and again, six more times they would fire. Each time a number of Dementors would die, erased forever from existence, but the gathered warriors could do little to stop the stampede. Harry was amongst the last to leave as he took in the sight of the bodies one last time: Men, women, and children, staring sightlessly at the sky.

Harry Potter apparated, and reappeared on the designated area of the Manor's front lawn, where his friends and forty Legionnaires awaited him. He stared at everyone, staring at him. He shook his head, "We... lost no one," he said quietly, "But we lost this fight as well."