Chapter 83 The Second Storm

Dawn stole over the tenth day of the conflict, and the haze of war hung over the castle and its attendant killing fields. The smoke had cleared and the rains had extinguished the burning flames but visibility was still a measly hundred or so meters from the tops of the badly fractured walls of the castle. From the semi demolished towers that dotted the Castle, they could see only slightly farther given the smoke and haze that effectively formed a boundary between the two sides of the war.

"Any movement?" asked Harry.

"Nothing," came the quiet reply from Fleur who was scanning the smoke bank with a pair of omnioculars. Harry stared into the smoke for a long moment and then sat down, leaning his back against the cool stone.

"Wish the fuckers would just get on with it," he muttered as his fingers twitched. He was craving a cigarette. He was craving displacement activity to provide a break from the monotony of waiting for them to come to the Castle again. Only this time, he knew they would overrun the walls, and fighting would spill into the castle.

He looked up, studying the wavering wards – or rather what was left of them. They were more than imperfect: they were patchy, without cohesion, and on the verge of collapse.

The terrain around Hogwarts worked in their favor because it forced the Dark Army to come at them in only one direction: up the winding path from the main gates.

The other approaches – the boats across the lake, and the bridge leading down to the Quidditch Pitch had been sealed in the most permanent fashions imaginable: The Giant Squid had been instructed by Rowena that nothing would be allowed to pass over or under the water. The Legion had also destroyed the docks and left all manner of very nasty, lethal surprises in wait for anyone that did cross the lake and try to tie up. The Bridge and quite simply been sealed off on the castle side, and the Legion had executed a protracted and layered fallback, ensuring that the bridge was packed full of minions of darkness before blowing the bridge. They had left the same mixed bag of lethal surprises. A frontal assault was the only practical way in. However without wards…

Harry sighed. He wasn't sure what scared him more: literally Giant-sized siege towers, or dragons breathing down hellfire from on high. The idea had always been to force the enemy to wear them down, but now, a week and a half into the siege, even conservative estimates put enemy casualties in the hundreds.

At least the break in the fighting had made it possible for them to bring it supplies, tend their wounded and conduct some repair to their fortifications. But the next attack… the waiting was really beginning to take its toll upon them. There had been more than half a dozen false alerts and fatigue was taking its toll: More than one man had been found asleep at their post, overcome by exhaustion.

Jill McDaniel sighed and slumped next to her Commander, taking a long pull on a charmed bottle of water and offering it to Harry. Harry took the proffered bottle and took a sip as well. It was slightly warm, which helped ward off the wintery cold of the Scottish nights. But then again, that was what warming charms were for. "Still thinking about the defenses at the gates sir?"

"Yeah," said Harry as he capped the bottle and handed it back, "You've all done the impossible by fortifying it, but I'm scared it's not going to be enough to hold the bastards back." He knew that even with Dumbledore having fortified them, along with Flitwick and McGonagall, it was only a matter of time.

"We'll hold 'em," she replied, "We'll kill 'em. If we can't hold 'em, and if they kill us, we won't make it cheap for 'em." Harry studied the young woman crouched next to him. He felt a small portion of his already shredded soul die with her words. He had trained them, arranged their training and he had made child soldiers, killers out of children who should be focused on their first crush and their studies. Instead, they were the last and only line of defense again Darkness.

The Patronus burst through the wall and settled in front of them both, "Observers detected movement in the smoke to the West. Stand to!"

Harry rose to his feet, "Ready?"

"Not really," she replied with a tired grin, "But we're getting tired of waiting."

Whatever Harry's reply was, it never left his mouth as a cordon of spellfire smashed into the fortifications. Millions of white-hot shards of shrapnel whickered simply everywhere. He could hear the scream and call for a medic. The Second Storm had begun with a change of tactics.

The First Storm had been an all-out assault on the length and breadth of their walls. This time, the assault had opened with a barrage of spells that had vaporized the last of their wards, and the Dark Army was maintaining the bombardment rate, keeping the defenders reeling and pinned as they made a concerted assault in three locations: The first was to breach the gate, the second was across the Black Lake, and the third was by using the Dragons to literally drop Death Eaters from the skies.

The assault across the Black Lake was doomed from its inception. While the Death Eaters certainly had the vessels, they had not counted on the Giant Squid, which proceeded to smash the smallest of the watercraft to matchstick kindling with unhurried blows of its tentacles before dealing with the larger vessels by using the same tentacles to enfold and then to either crush or tear the hulls of ships apart. It was the quickest resolved engagement of the Second Storm and the first victory for the Legion defenders. However, they knew that they still had to hold the walls, hold fast and kill every last assailant, or die.

High in the sky, some fifty feet above the castle, the dragons executed yet another devastating pass, this time they leaped from the scaly backs of the dragons. They plunged headfirst, screaming through the sky towards earth rapidly approaching terminal velocity. The idea was perhaps ill-conceived at best but successful enough to drop nearly a hundred Death Eaters into the courtyard, behind the defenders manning the walls and defenses.

"Perimeter breach! Repeat: Perimeter breached in Centre Courtyard! They're… dropping out of the sky." The last part of the warning was repeated twice more, just to ensure it was received and confirmed. Once upon a time, their defense plans had included having a reserve corps of broom riders to take the fight to the enemy in the air within the umbrella of the wards. But the loss of their wards left anyone that went up painfully exposed.

The message went out to every Legionnaire but all were engaged at the wall, leaving only those ferrying munitions, supplies, and the wounded to the infirmary, and the wounded themselves to fend off this incursion. Harry made the choice, "Potter to Legion: We are fully engaged! I need volunteers to hunt down and eliminate the incursion!"

In the Infirmary, more than one of the wound struggled to their feet, "What are you doing?" growled more than one of the medical cadre who realized the answer as soon as the question was asked, what the light and walking wounded were about to do, "You're nuts!" was the other frequently repeated refrain as the wounded drew their wands and set about hunting the Death Eaters, even as the dragons made yet another pass, bringing down the last of the castles' towers, and annihilating the last of their long-range artillery team in the process.

The ad hoc unit that had macabrely taken on the moniker, "The Wounded," found themselves being led by a sixth-year Ravenclaw, Sybil McNamara who took command and mobilized those who answered the call. She had them running patrol sweeps throughout the castle in combat formations, checking corners, classrooms, and all the angles even as hell itself erupted around them. They rounded a corner and suddenly found themselves face to face with the enemy. His first curse went wide, slamming and gouging a furrow of stone into the air. Those stone shards saved his life as the two Killing Curses aimed missed to the left and right of him. He adjusted his aim and dropped a Death Eater with his second and then a third. Legionnaire accuracy drills proved their worth as both fell with pierced hearts.

Hell was erupting around them. As the forty-strong "Wounded" brought the battle to the rear line of the Death Eaters now laying into the wall defenders from the rear. Two Legionnaires flung themselves out from cover, following their Ravenclaw leader into the fray, hexes, and curses leaping from their outstretched wands.

Spells slashed back in return, flickering in multi-colored, searing lines of death. Someone a few feet, or meters away was screaming but Sean Dempsey shut it out, took careful aim with his wand, kept his breathing slow, and then silently cast: A burst of amber light. Another black-robed Death Eater spun off his feet.

He pulled a fragmentation sphere from a belt pouch, tapped it with his wand, and hurled it. There was a crump and vortex of wind that carried the smell of burned blood back towards them. "If we can – "he began. Sybil and Catherine Ching never found out as a cutting curse lived up to its name and took off much of his face from just above the bridge of his nose before blowing out the back of his head. Horrifyingly, his body rose of its own accord and two more curses struck in the chest and leg. Another Legionnaire lost.

Ducking behind the rubble pile that had shielded them thus far, they scampered and linked up with another group of four slightly farther along. A tremendous storm of spells hammered the former cover and breached it in several places. One Legionnaire went down, cursing as blood spurted from the stumps of the fore and middle fingers on his right hand, which was still clutching what was left of his ruined wand. Catherine started to bind Philip's hand with conjured temporary bandages when Neville stepped from around a corner, the smell of burning and ash, sticking to him like a second skin.

Those few Legionnaires who had mastered the Dragon's Breath demonstrated the effectiveness of their chosen weapon once more during the Second Storm. Neville crawled to the lip of their cover and sent a withering blast of fiery death over the top. He was already boasting "flame-tan" from the First Storm where he had personally washed the battlements and one of the living, Giant siege towers with enough flame to cock it apart. Legionnaires fell in alongside him, led by another of the wounded, Beatrice Wolverhampton.

"Best I can do!" shouted Catherine as she thrust a wand from one of their fallen comrades into his left hand. Working on pure adrenalin and a lack of common sense, he engaged the enemy casting as best he could into the mass of now shielded Death Eaters. Their wands flashed as spells were launched all along the eastern length of the wall.

Suddenly, Chris was gone, punctured by no less than a half dozen curses. In one of the most heroic actions of the Second Storm, Sybil ordered her Legionnaires to draw their blades and then stepped out from cover and led the charge against their silver half masked enemies. With no more than 15 Legionnaires around her, she engaged, killing the Death Eaters with both spell and blade as the destination of the Death Eaters became clear: The Castle Gates.

Sybil had fought in every Legion engagement: From Grimmauld Place through to the pitched street fighting against the Dementors in Newcastle upon Tyne, and then the near massacre at the Hogwarts Express coming here. She was a Legionnaire. She had her honor, but all she had seen, all she had done had hollowed out her soul. Fighting was something to be done. She let himself go and fought and killed, almost mechanically without caution and without fear. It was the only way to ensure that she was alive and would be alive.

And there was no time to get a message to Command, not in the midst of the swirling melee where spell fire was exchanged at point-blank range and blades hacked and stabbed. The swirling savagery of such close fighting had raised the skills of each Legionnaire to a near instinctual and brutal level. Embroiled and embattled, the sheer press of bodies was keeping the dead upright. So much so, that they were killing the same Death Eaters twice over. The tide of black-cloaked and hooded Death Eaters continued their heroic push forwards towards the Gates of Hogwarts, fighting against the press of bodies that kept he dead upright, long after they were dead.

Effingus Death Eater Percy Weasely still had more than two-thirds of his force with him. They had fought, bled, and died to get this close to the gates. Their original plan had been to find the mechanism controlling the gates, take it over, and then open the way for the forces of his Lord and Master. But the resistance mounted by mere school children had astounded him. That they had the walls and wards to support them was one thing. But their resistance was fanatical. But he was a fanatic in his own right. Every member of the hundred-strong force had received personal mental conditioning from Lord Voldemort. They would open the gates, or bring them down by any means necessary.

But they had realized that there would be no storming of the Gatehouse: When the Castle had gone into lockdown the doors had vanished to be replaced by blank stone walls. Mentally conditioned by Lord Voldemort's Imperius Curse, there was no way around their orders as he lead his cohort to their objective and he had no doubt, to their deaths. A wave of blasting curses pounded the walls of the gatehouse, cracking then fracturing the heavy stone barrier.

The Legion was quick to turn to address the threat as spells lanced into their ranks from above, cutting down a number of the Death Eaters as several more Legionnaires levitated stone and rubble to block the approach.

The Death Eaters responded like a single, giant gestalt organism, laying down a blistering curtain of spells as Percy charged towards the broken wall of the gatehouse structure clutching a simple leather pouch against his hip. The pouch contained the two canisters of liquid that when combined would produce a blast powerful enough to bring down a muggle building with ease. If he was struck down, there was a good chance that he would not only vaporize himself, but most, if not all of his surroundings as well – not that he would be in any position to complain if that did happen.

He came to a rest with his back against the broken stone in an enfiladed position, temporary immune to fire from the top of the wall, and only vulnerable to the children who had pursued him and his Death Eaters halfway across the castle. Two of his fellows fell in to cover alongside him. One was already wounded, and the second slumped to the ground, his body perforated and burned. "Give them to me." Wordlessly, he was handed a similar pouch and then a third from the corpse of his fallen kinsman. "For the Dark Lord, my brother."

"For the Dark Lord," agreed Alecto Carrows.

She threw herself forward and into the line, conjuring a wall of flickering yellow-red flames before cutting loose with a salvo of rapid-fire hexes and curses. Following her lead, almost a dozen others followed her lead, forcing the pursuing elements of the Legion to find cover. Standing out in the open, made her a target for a half dozen wands that cut her down instantly. But she had served her purpose, shielding him from the spell fire that would have otherwise cut him down well short of the target even a storm of curses and hexes whipped around him. Those who saw it and lived to talk about it on both sides would not hesitate to call it a miracle. He was less than a meter from the door when a hex clipped the back of his knee and sent him sprawling through the blast ruined wall.

Percy gasped in pain as he managed to roll himself over. He studied his ruined leg for a moment. He ground out the incantation for a spell and gritted his teeth, holding back a scream of pain as the flames seared the bedraggled stump of his leg. He was going to die. He was certain of that now. He was so close. But he would die with honour, having served his Lord to the best of his ability.

The Legion had left no one to guard the precious mechanism because they were sealed away. How wrong they had been. He smiled through the pain. He could see the massive gears and counterweights that kept the gates closed. He could see the chains that kept the counterweights in place and thus prevented the gates of Hogwarts from opening.

He was running short of time: He could hear the cacophony of battle grow closer. No doubt his fellow Death Eaters were pulling tight around the small, almost non-descript building, that was more of a carbuncle attached to the wall than the actual structure. They would buy him time to achieve this task, the culmination of his life. That he was certain of.

He pulled the pouches into a pile, the containers rattling dangerous together. He was dizzy enough not to care as a sticking charm glued them together before he calmly levitated them with a swish and flick of his wand. "Thy will be done," he gasped before he banished the volatile potions mix up towards the heavy, greased chains that ran along the far wall of the building, "My lord!"

The roof of the building exploded upwards and outwards. Stone rained down in every direction upon both sides of the wall as a colossal jet of fire stained the dark skies a shade of malevolent yellow and bloody pink. The ground was cratered where the gate house had once stood, and one-half of the massive gates to the Castle now lay in broken ruin, torn completely from its hinges.

Far above the now ruined gates of Hogwarts Castle, smoke curled cyclonically like an ink-stained whirlpool, as the raging firestorm raged and stone melted beneath the lick of flames until the already improvised gateway collapsed, sliding as a ship-launched from dry dock into the ground where the hungry fire continued to cling and eat away the wreckage.

The first Death Eaters stormed through the breach. And like all who are first into the breech, they were greeted in the traditional fashion by the defenders: Massed defensive firepower.

Two of the Wounded went down. One with his chest ripped asunder, a second through a vicious hit to the groin and his screams echoed around them. A third ran through the horizontal rain of spells to grab her twice wounded comrade. An enemy blasting hex struck her full in the face, obliterating her head and most of her upper torso as well. They snipped from amidst the rubble and ruins at the oncoming storm troopers only to find that they literally refused to die: only precise headshots appeared to drop the foe so that they would not rise again. More than one of the Legionnaires blanched as precise kill shots passed through them cleanly. The defenders clearly had no such advantage and were quickly on the back foot, and then on the verge of being overrun.

"Withdraw! Stagger and layer our fall back!" Sybil ordered. She hurriedly composed a Patronus message and sent it back to Command before taking charge of the withdrawal and to her credit, managed to keep it from turning into a total rout as the morning itself rose above them all, and once again, it began to snow. "Damn Scottish weather!"

At the collapse of the gate, Harry had turned his attention from the enemy outside the wall to those that were now inside. He could see the enemy reserves and for the first time since in ten days, he smiled with satisfaction: He could see the last of the enemy reserve pushing up to force an assault to take the gates. He knew this was the last of their reserves because he could see his nemesis moving at the heart of this last enemy formation: The nose-free flattened snake-like features of Lord Voldemort, locked in a near-permanent sneer seemed to latch on the Harry's own scarred and bloody face. They locked eyes for a moment, and Harry raised his wand, pressing the tip to his forehead in a mock salute to his lifelong enemy before turning his attention back to the battle at hand.

The air was thick with hexes and curses zig-zagging back across the entrance court yard and there were gouts of flame from Dragon's Breath and balls of exploding flame lighting up the battlefield. Harry ducked in to cover as a fireball smashed into the ground, throwing up a hasty shield as he did so.

A Patronus floated down next time him. Neville was driving a wedge forward from the Western courtyard. He wanted Harry to support the push to drive them out. Harry used his ring, tapping out a message to everyone, man to man to unify a coordinated effort but the Death Eaters were everywhere. More than three-quarters of their strength was raising hell for the still incoming enemy. By his best estimate, the Death Eater still held the numerical advantage of almost two to one. When their reinforcements hit, then it would be three to one.

The Legionnaires around him pulled back slightly, consolidating their numbers and their perimeter, taking cover as a number of Legionnaires hasty transfigured, levitated, and literally forged fortifications under fire as spells continue to shriek and sizzle through the gate. The sky overhead opened up once again, dousing the castle, its grounds, and the combatants in sheets of torrential rain. The fighting continued.

Neville studied the battlefield and sent his message and began to lead four others out into the open, plodding into the open, spreading wider. Each of them carried the shrunken down flame thrower affectionately referred to as the Dragon's Breath. "Fire Warriors," exhaled Neville, as they arrived in place, standing upright, and tall amidst the rubble. Spells hissed, cracked, and flashed around them. There were two legionnaires with each of the Fire Warriors, their sole task was to maintain shields and solid barriers for defense. "Let's see them."

The enchanted tasks sloshed and gurgled as the first of the Death Eaters charged out of the smoke and fog, dodging rubble and still burning stone. Spells flashed and deflected off their shields deflected sideways and up into the sky. The Death Eaters raised a howling cry as they advanced. They adjusted a number of switches along the side of the weapons; a sharp chemical spell tinged the air.

"Cook 'em!"

Flames roiled from the muzzles of their weapons, a mix of blue and red in a wide swatch that hugged the ground. The searing plumes raged forward and the front line of the charging Death Eaters were caught in the inferno, shrieking and staggering, they became walking candles enveloped in flame.

Gouts of liquid flame encompassed the second and part of the third waves, leaving more and more of the Death Eaters stumbling, encased in fire even as the drizzle of rain became a shower. A Legionnaire fell wordlessly, his lower jaw, neck, and throat blasted away. Harry could see the Death Eaters piling onto them like a tidal wave. He turned and killed three as a spray of curses cut down another pair of Legionnaires, spraying the wall with blood. Stephan Crawford was taken apart as curses smashed into his elbow, knee, chest and a killing curse flipped him halfway heads over heels as the brutally intense fighting continued

The tide turned in favor of the defenders as a full spread of reductor, piercing, and blasting hexes cut across the embattled gates of the Castle. The Wounded had fallen back obliquely, allowing them to provide supporting fire. Insanely, Sybil was singing at the top of her lungs, a rendition of the Legion's Battle Pledge and oath, yet was somehow still able to pull those retreating or falling back in good order to fall in alongside her counter charge to push back the Death Eaters.

The dying continued as bodies were torn apart by explosive shrapnel. Spell fire shredded Trolls. Patronus Charms slew Dementors and the Death Eaters bled for every inch of ground they laid claim to. In minutes, dozens of new corpses littered the ground. The defenders continued their bombardment even as their assailants shielded or threw themselves to the ground before responding with their own spells. Light flashed and danced back and forth as both sides fought for control of the gatehouse.

It was just before dusk once again when the Death Eaters retreated beneath banks of fog and smoke that drifted lazily over the ruined battlements of the castle like a joyless carpet. The outer walls had nearly been overrun in several places, and the outer defenses were on the point of collapse. Walls were cracked and radiating fractures, fires continued to burn, and the dead were strewn simply everywhere imaginable.

The Second Storm had broken the outer defenses in more than one place, and it was quickly agreed to that there would be no point in even attempting to effect repairs. The Second Storm had come close to breaking the back of their resistance. But they were still alive, and the students, professors, and everyone else would make preparations to die standing.