Chapter 71 Battlegrounds

Cornelius Fudge sighed and rubbed his weary eyes. He closed them and rested his head against his hands. It was his favorite substitute for sleep, something which he had gotten very little of in the past few weeks. Voldermort's forces had limited their assaults upon the wizarding world, but that had not stopped them from keeping up a campaign of terror that had the muggle prime minster screaming bloody murder. There was little that he could do, and frankly, he could not blame the muggle in the slightest.

The American Ministry had considered lending assistance to the Legion, but the main problem was the rest of Europe: They were simply too frightened of Voldemort to do anything. Spain and Bulgaria had point-blank refused to take any action to stem the flow of support from their countries to Voldemort. The truth however was that much of Eastern Europe actually supported the Dark Lord. They had made the muggle authorities aware, but there was little that they could do against portkeys and apparition. Fudge had considered raising the War Wards that had helped dissuade a certain Adolf Hitler – known better as Grindelwald to the magical world – from invading Britain during the Second World War. But doing so would be a double-edged sword: They were also dependent upon international trade and business.

"Minister?" said Percy quietly, "You have been up for almost two days. I realize it is still early in the day, but perhaps a few hours of rest would be appropriate."

"Yes," admitted the Minister quietly, not having moved since he rested his head on his hands. The solitude of the blackness behind his eyes was small comfort in such times, "You are right, Weasely."

"Then allow me to assist," The minister looked up, and to his surprise found Percy standing with his wand in hand, pointed directly at him. Cornelius Oswald Fudge rocked back in his chair. He opened his mouth to ask a question, but no sound emerged before he heard two words, "Stupefy!"

Percy Weasely, or rather the Effingus drew a crystal from his pocket and tapped it twice with his wand. It glowed green. Seconds later he heard the alarm blaring throughout the Ministry. He smiled, gently, courteously almost. Under standard procedure, this would lock down every floor, prevent movement in and out, unless you had the proper authorization. As the senior aide to the minister – he looked over the table at the figure slumped in the minister's chair, he had such authority. With a wave of his wand, the former Minister's personal Floo was open to the outside. Wand in hand, he coolly left the office as the Death Eaters snuck in, and dragged out the unconscious lump. By the time the battle was over, the minister would have been replaced by an Effingus, and none would be the wiser. The assault upon Auror Command was in full swing by now. That would make Pius Thicknesse, his only remaining target, easy to find. Percy slipped into the office of the Director of Magical Law Enforcement, shut off the Floo, and simply waited.

Pius Thicknesse ran into his office and stared at the dead fireplace. The pieces fell in place, and he pulled his wand just as the bone-breaking curse smashed into his spine, shattering it from top to bottom. A quick-cutting curse finished the job. Percy Weasely smiled and returned to his office, his tasks complete.

Amelia Bones had been studying the inventory manifest when she felt a rippling sensation that made the hair on her hair on the back of her neck stand up. She knew that feeling, one that she had not felt since the First War with Voldemort. She looked out her window and was not surprised to see dozens, if not hundreds of black-robed, silver masked individuals streaming across the training grounds of Britain's magical police force.

The wards were down, but then, they had long expected such an assault to begin by bringing their wards down. All that had done was to bring the slumbering defenses to life. The Aurors have long been the police force, but for many years, almost a century, in fact, the Aurors have held a dual role: They are also the soldiers, the army of the wizarding world, should it ever come to open war with the muggles. They were under orders and during the first war, Voldermort had almost caused the activation of their second role. There was no time to debate, however: This was war.

Her people knew what to do. They had trained for this after all. She watched as the hidden defenses of the compound came to life. Devastator Crystals buried in the ground detonated sending Death Eaters into the air, torsos, and limbs flying in opposing directions. The compound boasted a defensive perimeter only a few hundred meters deep and the traps would buy them but a few minutes.

She placed her hand on the top of her desk; a red glow surrounded her hand for a moment and then faded. "All staff: Death Eaters are attacking. Prepare for war gear assignment!" She stood, and yanked open a cupboard that had not been opened in some months now when she had ordered that every Auror double-check, repair, and even upgrade to ensure that everything was in perfect working order. Her hands ran over the buckles and fasteners with practiced ease, and she emerged from her office, clad in full dragonhide armor. Everyone in her office was armored and had their wands in their hands. Every Auror wore a belt, hanging from which was a number of pouches. Everyone, she knew, would have at least three Devastator Crystals, and a suite of potions to keep them in the fight for as long as possible. She nodded to those descending the stairs to the ground floor, where her office was located: A total of hundred plus Aurors and Hit Wizards. She estimated that they would be able to provide perhaps thirty minutes of resistance.

"Ma'am," said Tonks, "Our wards are down, and they were quick to set up wards of their own. Portkey and apparition out of here won't work. Floo's also been cut."

A spell lanced through a window, smashing into a cabinet. It smoldered. Whatever documents were stored flared brightly, burned for several seconds as they fluttered to the floor, "Somebody's going to have to spend the weekend refilling those TPS reports," remarked the Deputy Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. There were a few smiles, which brought a smile to her face. Good, she thought, at least there was some morale left. She focused her magic and in a fraction of a second had apparated three feet to the left. She smiled.

If there was one difference between the Legion, the Order, and the Aurors, it was a simple one: The Order dueled to capture, the Legion dueled with the intent to kill. Aurors don't duel: They fight as dirty and as underhanded as the Death Eaters - perhaps even worse than they do. "We can't apparate out," she said, "But we can apparate within Command. Consolidated Defense Plan C," she ordered.

Auror Command was a large, sprawling compound that had simply grown over the years as facilities and buildings were added. Despite the sprawl, Amelia Bones had spent some time studying the entire complex by eye, and the result was Consolidated Defense Plan C. Instead of focusing on fixed, almost static defenses, she had identified intersections, pathways, and even buildings that could be used to execute snap ambushes and given that they could still apparate within the wards themselves, they were far more mobile than the enemy realized.

She sent a Patronus messenger to her daughter, and another to Dumbledore and the Order. She hesitated and sent another to The Legion. Reinforcements from, well, anywhere would be welcome. But she knew that reinforcements would take time. If Voldemort was confident enough to strike at Auror Command, it was more than likely that the Ministry, St. Mungo's, and Diagon Alley were also under attack. The thought of Voldemort targeting the Hogwarts Express never crossed her mind.

The Aurors apparated from the main building to take up pre-prepared positions. The main building stood at the far end of the compound. Seven stories high, it was a free-standing structure, surrounded by a low wall about ten feet high, and only a foot and a half thick, but every stone had been enchanted and strengthened, giving the wall a disproportionate amount of strength. Beyond the wall was a series of low-rise buildings, collectively the "Warehouses" that stored anything and everything. They lay just off to the left across a generously wide path. Archives were a similar structure that stored miscellaneous bric-a-brak and a lot of junk, only to the right. The three groups of buildings formed a loose "v" shape. Across open ground lay the obstacle course, surrounded by a running track. The left side of the running track was what was almost a refugee camp: rows of neatly pitched tents, which contrasted sharply with the four, six-story accommodations blocks for senior trainees and junior grade Aurors.

On the far side, opposite the main building, was a series of roofless structures, known as the "Kill Houses." They ranged in size from a single bedroom to a full seven-story structure. They were used in training for actual combat including room, apartment, and house clearing, as well as full-scale vertical assaults. Needless to say, the same rooms were also used in reverse, teaching Aurors how to ward and defend against all manners of attack.

She cocked her head and listened: The Death Eaters were singing. Something, a song she had never heard before, in Latin perhaps, or some other language she couldn't place, "We're going to have to put a stop to that," she muttered.

They had crossed into the Kill Houses, passing by the first of the structures. It blew itself apart in a ball of flame, stone, and wood. The Death Eaters stopped singing and went to ground. Amelia smiled: They were using the other structures for cover. Two more exploded, courtesy of Devastators Crystals no doubt placed by the Aurors. A quartet of Aurors broke cover, running and leaping down in the obstacle course, commonly known as "The Pit." They drew a horrendous amount of spellfire, and pulled the Death Eaters forward.

"They're not too bright," mused Tonks as the remaining half a dozen smaller, three, four and five-story buildings came apart with explosive force. The only still standing was the tallest of the Kill House buildings, and the Death Eaters had it fully surrounded, but they continued to press the advance.

Conjuring and casting flame is not a difficult task for many witches and wizards, but most lack the necessary skill to control it. This makes spells such as Fyndfire beyond the reach of many. Enter: Dragon's Breath. A muggle-born had essentially taken a muggle flamethrower, shrunk it down, and replaced a lot of mechanical parts with magical components to create a hand-sized weapon capable of projecting a cone of burning flame. The ground and first floor seemed to roar for a split second before cones of flames descended upon the passing Death Eaters. Fire lanced in all directions, creating a twenty-meter-wide kill zone with the building as its epicenter.

The smell of burning flesh and melting fat sizzled. More than a few of the Death Eaters were turned to blazing candles that ran and staggered forward several paces before collapsing, dead on the ground.

The Aurors followed up, banishing yet another weapon from their warfighting arsenal into the midst of the Death Eaters: Fragmentation Spheres. They were the size of a clenched fist and flew through the air in gentle arcs, before plummeting to the ground or bouncing off the chests, heads, and, in several cases, the face of a Death Eater. They detonated with spectacular results. Flames of blue, red, and green exploded outwards, like miniature suns going supernova as heat and shrapnel cut holes through the ranks of the attacking Death Eaters. The structure was immediately targeted with a ruinous volume of firepower, gutting the structure completely. But the Aurors had already displaced, apparating back to Command.

In the tent city for the new recruits - of which there were none this year - the Aurors proved that they could fight dirty, using disillusionment and invisibility to great effect, along with silent casting and blades, both magical and conjured to inflict brutal casualties upon the Death Eaters that left the embattled Aurors covered in a thin film of gore. "Place!" the harsh whisper strangely loud as Death Eater curses ripped the tents apart. The Aurors were already gone, leaving a gift for the Death Eaters in the form of Devastators and Fragmentation Spheres, turning the entire expanse into a swirling firestorm, courtesy of Auror Nymphadora Tonks.

Similar scenes of carnage were repeated upon the left flank, as the Death Eaters realized that they were facing a determined resistance, one that would probably fight to the death. The Death Eaters stopped singing and sought whatever cover they could get. The Death Eaters pressed their advance, cautious but determined to kill all those who opposed the will of the Dark Lord. The Death Eaters got smart, however, pummeling the last free-standing building in their immediate vicinity until they had reduced it to ruin. Of the seven Aurors within, two were killed instantly, three others were stunned by the ferocity of the spellfire, and died when the building collapsed upon them. Only two managed to apparate to safety.

From the sixth floor of the Auror Command building, Moody watched the progress of the battle and gave a somewhat satisfied grunt. The Effingus were stupid, but they learned from their mistakes quickly enough: They were advancing with caution into the massive pit that sheltered the obstacle course designed to test the physical toughness of potential recruits. He grinned, "Cast!"

A quaffle-sized object was banished off the roof. In mid-flight, it fragmented. Hundreds of six-inch-long metal projectiles filled the air. They fell, in freefall for a moment, causing the Death Eaters to look up in confusion and surprise. The propulsion charms kicked in a split-second after that. Dozens of Death Eaters fell, perforated like abused pin cushions. Dozens more conjured shields that did certainly slow the projectiles, but did little to stop them. Screams filled the air. Those atop the roof managed to unleash another two such projectiles before massed hexes and curses forced them to abandon their position.

Their defense, however heroic, was not without its cost: a total of thirty had been killed, and each one lost was a significant proportion of their strength, against what looked like a thousand Death Eaters. The only defensive advantage they had left was the outer wall, and they made full use of it as Moody's artillery team lobbed a further three of the quaffle-flechettes. But the Effingus learned, conjuring solid barriers of stone and steel to deflect the assault. They were also massing spell fire against the battlements and the building itself, keeping any possible return fire to a minimum. It wouldn't be long before they were battering down the gates.

But they already were. "Where the hell are those reinforcements?" yelled an Auror. The answer didn't matter: a three-foot span of wall blew out, taking the Auror in question with it.

"Broadsword! Broadsword!" shouted Amelia as she leaped off the walls, and landed lightly on the ground. The Aurors followed suit, retreating back to the crumbling building. Its upper levels were already ruined: Fires blazed and the top three floors had been gutted. The building itself was not going to take much more before it came crashing down atop them. She sighed, there was only one thing left to do.

The Aurors took up defensive positions inside the building, overturning tables, collapsing shelves and bookcases to create some cover. Only thirty-three were left, counting herself, Mad-Eye and Tonks. It was perfectly clear: This was their last stand. Another group of Aurors took up positions outside her office, "We'll hold them here as long as we can Ma'am," one of them said. She met the man's gaze and nodded. There was still hope. A small, desperate hope.

Both Aurors, the best of the DMLE watched as she tapped her desk twice and slid her wand into a small opening at the edge of the table. Everything glowed green for a long moment and then blue. She placed her hand in the same place and muttered a string of Latin. An incantation. She was done in moments and spoke, softly, but clearly, her voice echoing throughout the building, "Broadsword active. Five minutes."

A panel on the floor of her office opened: It was akin to a three-room apartment. Enough for people to hide in for a few short hours. It would have to be enough. They could hear the chorus of battle, taking place down the corridor. "They're inside!" gasped someone, leaning against the wall, "They just blew the front of the building to pieces and charged in. We can't... we can't stop them, but we've got them holed up at the end of the corridor." That meant about thirty feet between the Death Eaters and them. He looked up, his face a mask of sadness, "There are twenty of us out there... but if they blow the doorway. She nodded, glancing at her watch, almost out of curiosity. It seemed that her assessment of thirty minutes was overly optimistic, by almost eleven minutes.

"Thank you, Auror Stamper." She nodded to the opening, "Get in."

Moody strode to the door of the office and peeked out. He ducked as a spell shattered the glass pane of the door, "Whoops," he muttered, and sent a plethora of curses back down the corridor.

"What are you doing?" asked Tonks.

"Someone's got to hold them off," said Moody, "If they get in here, they'll just stop the timer."

"If they know about it," countered Tonks.

"They know," said Amelia darkly, "They knew enough to bring down all the wards at once. Bringing down forty-six layers of wards is not something one can just "do," no matter how powerful."

Moody stomped out into the corridor, spells flying from his wand at an astounding rate of three or four every second. He was single-handedly laying down enough covering fire, allowing those closest to the front line of battle to disengage and fall back, strengthening the defense and perhaps, more importantly, allowing the broadsword countdown to continue unabated.

She looked at the opening behind Amelia's desk, where another two had just disappeared into, "Madame Bones," she said, quietly, "May I ask a favor of you?"

She blinked, "Go ahead, Miss Tonks."

"You know Remus Lupin?" the other, older woman nodded, "Tell him he was... is the Alpha. My Alpha. That I love him, and," she shrugged, nodding to the corridor where they could hear Mad-eye mocking the Death Eaters as he slew them like cattle.

"You can tell him yourself," replied Amelia, bringing up her wand. Too slow. She blinked, a startled expression crossing her features... "You..." she slumped over.

Tonks caught the falling Deputy Director of Magical Law Enforcement, "Hopkins! Wyatt! Stamper! Get her to safety!" They popped out of the safe room and looked surprised at the sight of Tonks levitating their boss in their outstretched arms. She could understand, read the questions on their faces easily enough, "She has a daughter. You lot, have families."

She stepped out of the office and dived, dodging a curse before rolling back to her feet, blasting a Death Eater through a cabinet that had very nearly gotten the drop on Mad-Eye. He shouted over his shoulder, not taking his eyes off the pair of Death Eaters he was locked in a duel with, "Surprised to see you here!"

She smiled, hexing another Death Eater to the afterlife, "Wouldn't miss this for all the tea in China!" Together, they stood, shoulder to shoulder, covering the retreat of the final fifteen or so Aurors into the Deputy Minister's office and the safe room. "How long?"

"Three, three and a half minutes," replied Moody, "You sure about this?" he asked her again. "I know about you and Lupin."

She nodded, "Can't leave you out here to do it alone."

"I can do this alone!" he growled. He had always maintained that he didn't need a partner. That he worked best alone. But having Tonks at his side for so long, it was... right... that she was beside him, with him, in this: Together at the end of it all. But at the same time, it was so very wrong.

"I've got your back partner. Nothing's gonna change that," she replied, "Not like we need anyone else now do we?"

He grunted, "You'll do." The opening in the floor closed and sealed with a faint thrum as the wards over the safe room activated. Together, they tipped over the table and blocked the door. Beyond the office was the maze of cubicles that were the desks and offices of the other Aurors, now mostly dead. "See you in the next life, partner."

"Likewise," she replied, as they armed the last handful of orbs and threw them out into the morass of black robes that had spread out, taking cover wherever they could find it. Clearly, they expected the Aurors to fight to the last. Alastor Moody and Nymphadora Tonks certainly did not intend to disappoint, "Fake left, and cut right?"

He nodded with a grim smile. Standing shoulder to shoulder, they pulverized the table that had sheltered them. Moody blew out the door and its frame. A moment after that, the broken table was banished through the door. They charged out behind it, angling to the left. Spells rained upon the partners, but they moved, twisting and turning avoiding everything cast at them.

They had fought like a married couple, talked like best friends, protected each other like brother and sister. They had also flirted like teenagers. They moved in tandem, having spent years catching criminals, murderers and rapists together, having spent thousands of hours training and fighting, learning to anticipate each other, to trust each other with their lives. Moody slapped her on the shoulder and she dropped to a crouch, killing another Death Eater on their right while he eviscerated the offending caster on their left, firing over her back.

She rose and placed her hand on his chest. He took a step back. The killing curse flashed between, close enough to taste the miasma of death the bolt of green light had carried. She cast three blasting hexes, blowing Death Eater limbs in one direction, torsos and heads in the other. He killed another with a well-placed cutting curse.

They turned as if they were dancing the tango, him to the left, her to the right with astonishing ease for one with a wooden left and for the clumsiest Auror in the history of the Aurors. Four more Death Eaters went down in a blinding display of curses and hexes. They separated, obliterating ruined furniture, banishing it at high speed. She covered the floor in ice; he followed up with immolation spells. His flames turned ice into water; she electrified it, downing several more.

But even the best of dancers can miss a step: The blasting curse tore a chunk out of a support column that peppered Tonks in the back and side like a massive shotgun round. She dropped. Moody adapted and improvised: He simply demolished the pillar, and brought the first floor of the building down on top of everyone, themselves included, but managed to snap apparate to her side and then pull them back to the office of the Deputy Director. The rubble would only keep them at bay for a few minutes at best. Already they could both hear them trying to blast their way through.

"Lost my wand... back there," she whispered as he lowered her into a sitting position, propped against what was left of a wall. He nodded and flopped down next to her. She noted almost absently that he was bleeding in several places, "Piercing hexes?" They had some limited cover here - and there was nowhere left for them to run anyway.

He grunted. The real problem was the one that hit on the left side of his chest. He was quite sure he'd punctured a lung, "Won't be... long now," he ground out through clenched teeth. There was the sound of cascading rubble, shattering glass, breaking wood. Voices shouted to one another, loud, excited: They were through the impromptu barricade, their feet stomping on the debris-littered ground.

They were close. "No," she agreed, "It won't." she pulled a Fragmentation Orb, "I saved, one. Should be painless, you know?"

A light flashed on Moody's belt, "Won't need it," he said quietly, "Ten seconds."

There was a sudden roaring sound, much like a tornado, as everything began to grow warm. Uncomfortably warm. There was no warning for the Death Eaters as the Fyndfire burst out of the ground, all across Auror Command. The Death Eaters may have screamed in fear, cried, and tried to flee. Others sought to douse the living demonic flame with water, which only served to fan the flames that had escaped from hell to burn brighter and hotter.

Fragmentation Orbs normally have a three-second countdown before they live up to their name. The last of the Fragmentation Orb never detonated, reduced to ash in the fraction of a moment it takes to blink one's eyes.

Hours later, the twenty-odd survivors would open and slip out from the safe room hidden under disillusionment charms. They stood at ground zero of a wasteland. There were no burned-out husks, no ruined buildings. Not even ash. Where Auror Command had once stood, was nothing but glass. From where they stood, they could see the muggles. They had surrounded the area, and it was no doubt a crime scene. The entryway to the safe room slid shut without a sound. She had no doubt that the Ministry had also been attacked. There was only one safe place left to go, "Apparate to Hogwarts."