Chapter 75 Fall of the House of Weasley

Halloween was only days away, and Fred Weasely whistled tunelessly under his breath as he walked out of the backroom of Weasely Wizarding Wheezes, located at number 93 Diagon Alley. Businesswise, they were still in the black, though just barely. The joke and pranks business was suffering given the current situation. Indeed, hindsight was perfect as the Twins realized that opening the Hogsmeade branch had never been the brightest idea. Closing it was akin to surrender, and if there was one thing Weasleys would never do, it was surrender. Surrender, was so very "un-Weasley," that the word was alien to their vocabulary.

He ran his eyes over the stocked shelves, doing a quick inventory check. Everything was where it should be and glanced at his watch. He still had a quarter of an hour before the ten o'clock opening. He moved to the front of the store and checked the security measures – just in case anyone had been snooping around during the night. None of the perimeter wards had been tripped, the Stunner traps had netted the usual bag of cockroaches and rats. He flipped the sign from "CLOSED" to "OPEN," had his hand on the manual lock when he caught a flicker of movement outside, just across the street.

He looked up and his eyes widened in shock as twenty men appeared, stripping off invisibility cloaks or ending whatever concealment charms they were using. With wide, horrified eyes he watches them, almost three dozen of them in black robes and silver masks level their wands in the direction of the store. Weasley Wizarding Wheezes was a store, not a fortified outpost. He called upon the wards and realized that there were more of them, standing in the back alley behind the building, wands raised and leveled. More of them continued to unmask themselves before his eyes.

Fred ran and threw himself behind the counter as the first of the blasting hexes slammed into the wards. The entire building shook as a second wave cracked them, and the third wave of spells broke the wards completely.

He twisted the Legion Ring and tapped it twice and wand in hand rose to his feet and began to cast. The spell chain was a mix of the wizard and Goblin magic that obliterated almost a dozen Death Eaters in as many seconds. The backdoor splintered and one-half of the Twins ducked and spun around, wand outstretched as the first of the Death Eaters stormed through the door.

With a snarled "Welcome to Weasely's Wizarding Wheezes!" he met them head-on, charging into spitting distance as he flew and slew through their ranks, cutting charms, piercing hexes, bombardment charms flashing from his wand in a near-endless chain of destructive that broke, cut and pierced bone and flesh with equal ease.

Facing the back of the store, heard the storefront window shatter, felt the heat of the flames licked its way across the floor of the store, devouring the stocks of merchandise with demonic appetite. He rolled back around the counter in to cover. Somebody had scouted the defenses. He thought grimly. Otherwise, they would not have been so particularly about burning the windows and doors, destroying the wood and stone frames that held the enchantments in place. How else would they have known how many it would take to bring down the defensive wards cast by the Goblins?

"Thank you for making a purchase!" Firing through the flames his first two piercing hexes missed, but the third found its mark as it struck a silver mask just below the nose. The mask itself seemed to deform, pulling itself, along with skin and muscle into the narrow inch wide hole, moments before the back portion of the cranium exploded outwards in a spray of liquidized flesh.

He rose, spells flying from his wand, "Death Eater specials for today: Death by hex, curse or bad joke!" With a shout of anger and rage, they rushed him coming through the back door and the flames simultaneously trying to overwhelm him. Water ran over the floorboards of the shop as he rolled onto the counter and electrified it with a bolt of energy. Six Death Eaters twitched and fell to the ground. Shelves of merchandise were pulled over burying one more in a mountain of fireworks, moments before the entire stockpile went up, courtesy of a shower of sparks. Two more were flash-crisped in the aftermath, leaving only mocking rictus smiles behind, the whiteness of their teeth a shocking contrast to their charred black corpses.

Fred knew these were Effingus, ad that they were being deployed as expendable. They had neutralized most of the defenses, and he knew that he would not be able to maintain such a prodigious cast rate for much longer as he dived behind the counter again as a hex vaporized the cash register, making it rain gold, silver, and bronze for several moments. "Griphook always said that the British wizarding economy was under fire."

In the momentary pause, he activated his emergency portkey only for the device to fizzle with a splutter. He blasted another Death Eater into a wall with a wave of his wand. He rose and ducked almost immediately as a sickly yellow curse smashed into the display above him. The fireplace was out which ruled out the Floo Network. He tried, knowing that if his portkey failed, the apparition was probably warded as well. He vanished for a moment, only to reappear in exactly the same spot. His moment's disappearance had saved him as he reappeared crouched in front of a Death Eater whom he promptly punched in the face.

There was a crack of bone as the magically enhanced punch rocked the Effingus back several steps, spilling half a handful of spherical crystals across the floor, throwing pools of eerie blue sapphire light across whatever the light touched, including Fred's left foot.

Statistically "Oh Shit!" is the most common last word of those about to die a violent death. Precisely one second later, Fred Weasley joined this numerical calculation as his entire world vaporized around him in an explosion that rocked the foundations of Diagon Alley itself.

In Hogsmeade, George Weasley rose from his chair, sipping on a Butterbeer as he ambled to the front of the store to flip the sign from "CLOSED" to "OPEN." The Legion ring burned, hot enough to cause pain. The twins had played around with spare Legion rings and having deconstructed the magic, added their own series of personal coded messages that only the two of them could read or understand. The pain was a piercing, sharp white-hot feel. Magic flared around him as the pain told him everything he needed to know, and he stumbled, falling to his knees. The pain meant that his better half, half his soul had just been ripped from him.

He staggered, leaning against the door frame. For the first time in his life, he felt the acid hotness of tears in his eyes. Half of him, his better half was simply gone. A familiar rushing sound filled his ears, one her recognized from far too many hours spent training with the Legion, he recognized the sound from his duels, and battles with Death Eaters: It was the sound of mass casting. Through tear blurred eyes, he saw them, standing in the street. He knew he should cast a shield, apparate, portkey, teleport, or dive for cover.

The wards went live, seconds before the first wave of spells would have struck the building. Where Number 93 Diagon Alley had been converted to suit their needs, Number 33, Hogsmeade was a free-standing building of stone and laid with charms and wards of a befuddling array and variety. The shields withstood the second and third barrages, and the ward scheme, having detected spells of lethal intent: Retaliated.

The flash was blinding as it swept out and across the street and followed quickly by a nova of burning flame that radiated outwards from the building. Those caught in the blast left scorch marks upon the road and nothing else. Those that survived moved farther back and hammered the structure with second, third, fourth, and fifth volleys in furious succession.

Sure enough, the wards were newly laid and would not be able to withstand such an assault for much longer. George stared out at his black-robed, silver masked killers for a moment and then snapped into motion, only to realize that the trap had been expertly set and sprung. Like Fred, they had severed the Floo and instead of warding the property itself, warded around it against any form of magical transport or movement.

He was same only for as long as the wards held, and that would not be for long, and felt his tears die as he consigned himself to his fate. He knew that there was no way his brother would have failed to spread the word, but he did so himself and drew his wand. He tapped a message into his ring and sent it, and then sat back and waited, summoning a bottle of Butterbeer. With practice ease, he smashed the bottle top with the edge of the counter, and out of habit, hammered the bottle cap into the countertop. They had deliberately chosen a softer wood for this.

The wards wavered, flickered, and then finally collapsed, followed moments later by the entire storefront as Fyndfire burned away the front third of the shop, leaving nothing but ash in its wake as the Death Eaters howled their victory and charged into the store George Weasely, smiled serenely as they raised their wands with tears still falling from his eyes. He looked at the assembly of mindless cretins before him, "Hold on, brother of mine," he choked out, "I'm coming." Twin tears rolled down his cheeks. For a moment the Legionring came in to perfect focus for a moment, "Forever against the Darkness," he whispered as he turned to facedown the ocean of wands, "Mischief managed!"

Fire blossomed from the walls. The shelves exploded into metal and wood shrapnel. The air itself grew hot enough to sear the lungs of those who had only a few agony-filled seconds to inhale it. The second floor seemed to fall downwards in a single solid slab of wood and stone. Barely halfway into its free fall, everything exploded outwards in a corona of white heat. The collapse of the two-story building echoed up to Hogwarts itself.

Within minutes of the twinned attacks, there was an explosion of activity in Hogwarts. Six witches and wizards had hissed in pain, stopped what they were doing, and stormed out of class with one word to their respective professors: "Voldemort."

The professors in question – Vector, McGonagall, and Lupin – had merely nodded and let them go. Headmaster Albus Dumbledore had decreed that they would do what they have to do, and would do so without interference. It was all the aging headmaster could think of to try and get Harry Potter back on side and under some measure of control. They also had no doubt that whatever was going on, the Order would have responded as well.

If only the Headmaster knew what he had unleashed: The six dashed through the corridors and were quickly joined by other students. For the few students loitering in the entrance hall, it was like watching a tsunami make its approach as over two dozen students quickly became two hundred, taking the Great Hall by force. Harry leaped onto the raised platform and turned to face the assembled ranks, "Legionnaires!" he called. Brutally forcing his emotions aside at the thoughts of two of his closest friends, now dead at the hands of the enemy.

Everyone shut up, giving him their undivided attention, "Hogsmeade and Diagon Alley, both under…"

A Raven Patronus burst through the walls and landed alongside Harry, from its beak issued the voice of Amelia Bones, "Diagon Alley, at least two hundred Death Eaters!" The Patronus seemed to shriek for a moment, before the voice of Susan's aunt returned, "Avada Kedevra! Under Ministry Charter, Section forty-two, subsection nine: As acting in charge of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, all members of the paramilitary organization "The Legion," under the command of – "Diffindo!" - Harry Potter are hereby deputized as Reserve Aurors, Junior Grade. Harry Potter, Luna Lovegood, Fleur Delacour, Ginerva, Fred, George Weasely, and Neville Longbottom are hereby deputized as Reserve Aurors Senior Grade. All Reserve Aurors – "Confringo Maximus!"- are to report to Harry Potter for IMMEDIATE tactical assignment to repulse Death Eater Incursions in Diagon Alley and Hogsmeade!"

The Raven vanished in a puff of silvery smoke leaving the Great Hall speechless for several long heartbeats.

"Well, that escalated quickly," remarked Luna with a laugh. There were a few titters of laughter which helped break the tension of the moment. Harry nodded appreciatively.

"Indeed," agreed Harry, "Legionnaires! You know your commanders! Double check your war gear and… get ready," he took a breath to calm and steady his nerves as he thought of the graveyard in Godric's Hollow, "We go to war!"

The Legion Counsel looked at each other for a few moments. Anyone watching would have been excused for thinking that they were a hive mind. They broke up and made their way out of the Great Hall, the students, just followed knowing who they were supposed to be following. The Legion organization drew heavily upon that of the Goblins: Each member of the Core would be leading at least forty-nine others into battle as part of a Shuulkakec – company – composed of five Hakhuuch –squads – of ten which finally broke down in two dhegaakhaal – fire teams.

Three hundred students, a quarter of the student body of Hogwarts ran across the grounds and through the main gate, passing a group of second years in Care for Magical Creatures, as a gaggle of first years had their first flying lesson watched them from their perches high up on their brooms.

The Shuulkakec lead by Ginny and Neville simply kept moving towards Hogsmeade, while Luna and Colin and Fleur portkeyed and apparated their forces to Diagon Alley

Harry's own Shuulkakec made their way to the Burrow. If they had targeted Fred and George, it stood to reason that the rest of the family would have been targeted: Molly Weasely was easily the most exposed, especially if she was home alone as she tended to be. However, the home was protected by a Fidilius Charm so it should be safe. None of them wanted to voice the possibility that Ron had truly turned on not just Harry, but on his family as well.

They apparated into the middle of the battle, and immediately they all dropped, hugging the ground as a hideous number of cutting, bombardment, blasting hexes, interspaced with the sickly green and orange unforgivable seared the air. The air itself tasted of burning, the acrid scent of death coating the back of their throats. Several hacked-up balls of black phlegm.

They had apparated into the back garden of The Burrow, only to find that the order was holed up in the house and that they were beset on all sides. "Stagger one-two, barrier!" ordered Harry calmly. Legion spells lanced outwards, more to keep the Death Eaters heads down than anything else. The second wave followed hard on the heels of the first and the ground itself morphed, rising to form a ten-foot high barrier that encircled at least the back gardens of The Burrow. They were safe for the moment.

"Shaklebolt," said Harry, "Want to fill us in?"

The dark-skinned Auror nodded, "They came at us, just streamed past the wards, and the Fidelius like it wasn't there." He hesitated, "and if the Fidelius is broken…" He didn't have to say it, but there were two wayward sons of the Weasely family who were the only possible suspects, "They've got about two hundred of them out there, mostly Effingus. A couple of higher-ups."

There was a crash from the front of the house and the shrill shriek of Molly Weasely filled the air, "Not in my home you vermin!" There was a yell as someone went flying followed by a sickening crunch.

"What about the defenses?" asked Harry as he jogged through the house, directing his forces with curt chopped hand signals that they hastened to obey. Instantly a squad was manning the earthen barricade, sending out precision spellfire into the ranks of Death Eaters trying to close up the distance.

Another two squads climbed to the second and third floors, laying down more spells in a 360-degree spread, targeting clumps of Death Eaters with area effect and elemental spells taught by the Goblins, something which was not lost in Kingsley Shacklebolt for a moment but he had more pressing questions, "What defenses?"

Harry frowned, "Fred and George said they'd seeded the grounds with all kinds of things."

"Things that blow up, and kill and maim?" They both ducked as a bolt of green death flew overhead and smashed into the mantelpiece. Both rose, casting curses from the left and right respectively at separate targets before dropping back down, "They worked… trimmed the horde out there down to two hundred plus instead of three hundred fifty we would otherwise be facing."

For the moment, the terrain worked in their favor. They had both the high ground and cover. Only the third squad would have a clean shot at them from the attic, "Third Squad: Nova, twenty-five." His Patronus flitted up to them, "Second Squad: Nova, twenty. First, fourth: Arrowhead tempest."

Instantly, both squads had formed up and waited as Harry silently counted down. There was an explosion of noise. Sound so loud it seemed to be blinding as the few Ballistic Bludgers the Legion had were employed to devastating effect, shredding most, if not all of the Effingus in cover, unable to dodge the hail of superheated shrapnel that fell amongst them. Blood misted and evaporated as flesh vaporized.

"Seems a little more even now doesn't it?" remarked Harry as Kingsley stared open-mouthed.

"Those bludgers are Ministry…Department of Law Enforce…" began the shocked Auror

"What one creates, another can copy, and improve upon," said Harry grimly, "Those things out there, don't have enough brains to be considered human. They don't have the ability to think, to understand compassion, to understand anything at all. They're sheep. Sheep," he repeated, "born for slaughter. We're the butchers!" Something sparked and then the air was filled with heat as flames wreathed another Death Eater positions in flame, scouring flesh from bone with raw elemental fury. "That should even the odds."

Almost as quickly as it had evolved, the firestorm died away, "Legion!" he roared. Forty-nine other voices roared right back, as he raised his wand overhead.

Across the way, Severus Snape breathed a sigh of relief. He was still alive – unlike Percy Weasely who had been perforated by shrapnel and then reduced to a fine ash that coated the scarred ground. He had known what to expect when he had seen the quaffle-like objects launched from the second and third floors of the Weasley's hovel. The foul-smelling liquid had been unexpected, as had been the sudden intensity with which it had ignited. There was pain, in his lungs, and he coughed, a splash of blood filling the inside of his silver mask. He tasted copper in his mouth and the back of his throat.

He knew that the Burrow would be well defended. The Twins would have seen to the defense of their family home. But this latest counterstroke, together with that earthen barrier meant that the Legion had arrived to bolster the flagging numbers of the Order of the Phoenix. Despite the pain he felt, a grim smile crossed his features. He would take a great deal of pleasure in removing the students that sullied the halls of Hogwarts.

He called the Effingus to him, having them form ranks. Their line was long and convex, enveloping the entire front of the Burrow, and would simply obliterate it when they were within range. "Death Eaters! Advance! Leave none alive!"

With Snape at their head, they began the slow steady task of marching forwards. Snape knew many of the Effingus would die, but he did not care in the least for their lives. There was no doubt in his mind that there would be one student down there he would love to kill: Potter. He could positively smell the bastard half-blood lurking somewhere in the hovel the Weasley's called "home."

Behind his silver mask, The Potions Professor of Hogwarts smiled as Harry Potter himself led the charge. Other overconfident Death Eaters would have no doubt laughed at the sight of school children versus the seventy or so Effingus. Indeed, several names were at the forefront of Severus's mind, including one Lucius Malfoy. Severus Snape vowed he would not make the same mistake.

"Don't die in the first charge, Potter," Severus hissed. He paused to look at the Death Eaters gathered around him. "Potter is mine! Kill the rest!" Slowly, dramatically, he raised his wand, holding it high in the air. He tightened his fingers, "Mordsemodre!

Then, he cut down with his wand.

Legionnaires had advanced out at a run but quickly slowed to a rapid walking pace. No sense in tiring themselves out, especially since they would have a face fight and a half in the coming minutes. The skull and snake emblem of Lord Voldemort, of his Death Eaters, blossomed overhead, casting a grey shadow over the Legion. Harry responded in kind, "Oriuntur Bellum Avis!"

The air crackled around him, and the Legion gaped as wings of fire sprouted from behind his shoulder blades, growing wider, larger, expanding until the entire front rank of the Legion was enveloped in their warm embrace. With suddenness, the wings flapped, the grass beneath their feet singed as a Phoenix rose, an Axe clutched in one claw, a wand in the other, and smashed into the Dark Mark. The magics warred with each other for a long moment then disentangled themselves until both of them were fluttering overhead.

"At them!" he roared, his voice echoing over any storm. Indeed, his voice was the thunder of the storm. Wand raised high into the air he rushed to meet the furious charge head-on, with almost seventy Legionnaires and Order of the Phoenix members following behind him.

The black wave of Death Eaters broke upon the charging Legionnaires like the waves of the ocean upon the white cliffs of Dover. Dozens were hurled back into the air as stalwart Legionnaires collided with the Death Eaters. Spells shrieked back and forth at close quarters and collided in midair. The air smelt of burning, ozone, and blood. Several cleaved limbs and heads flew above the battlefield as Harry struck hard. Spells, flew from both his wand and off-hand, blasting one Death Eater into steaming chunks of flesh while another lost his wand arm and left leg in quick succession from a pair of cutting curses. He cast and culled with a ruthless abandon, a successful blend of pure brutal instinct and the Legion training regimen.

An opponent came in with an arcing horizontal attack with a sword of all things. Without even thinking, Harry switched his grip on his wand, adopting a two-handed grip. A column of light blazed from the tip. Forty inches long, the column was a perfect inch in diameter, the exact width of his wand. There was no cutting edge to it, no point to stab or thrust with. The blade was deep sapphire blue with streaks of emerald green crackling along its length like lightning: Raw elemental magic in its purest form. Harry went low, ducking beneath the slicing sword and slicing across horizontally. He cut the Effingus in half, its legs flopping to the left, the torso, arms, and head to the right. There was no blood. The blade of energy had cauterized the wound cleanly.

Two more came at him from his right. He cut and hacked deeply into the chest of one. His left hand rose, glowing blood-red in a flat-palmed slap to the chest of the second, moments before flames raced down his hand and into the Effingus. It burned alive from the inside out. He roared a wordless challenge in that brief moment of respite and channeled a bolt of lightning that crackled from his fingertips into the thickest concentration of the enemy, killing and maiming indiscriminately. The entire routine took less than three seconds and he pressed forward, slashing, hexing, stabbing, and cursing at any opening that was presented.

Severus watched, impressed despite himself as Harry led his forces in a slaughter of his Death Eaters. True they had felled a number of the Legionnaires and killed several. But the armor they wore was almost as impressive as their martial skill. It was a double-layered Dragon Hide which provided protection from a variety of spells, but perhaps most frustrating was that it produced some kind of shield that overlaid the armor itself. On more than one occasion, it had turned a killing blow into an incapacitating one and whenever they had fallen, they were automatically portkeyed away to destinations unknown.

Under the direction of Terry Boot, Fifth Squad had been left to secure the rear. No complaints, questions, or protests had followed the orders as the Death Eaters broke through the earthen barrier and poured through the breach. They were surprised to find a dogged resistance waiting for them.

"Keep them out!" ordered Terry, casting a piercing curse that punched through the throat of the first Death Eater to come through the smoke. Ten wands send dozens of curses and hexes back and forth across the narrow battlefield that the back garden had become. Boot demonstrated pride and fearlessness as he reached onto his belt and pulled the orb from its resting place, "Ease!" he shouted.

Immediately, everyone shouted the same word. With their mouths open, it drastically reduced the chance of their eardrums popping. Seconds later the devastator crystal detonated amongst the enemy. They rose and cast, forcing the Death Eaters to retreat as more and more fell to their spellfire. Terry Boot led the charge. Legionnaires to the last, they had been trained to fight Death Eaters. To say that they were eager to battle was an understatement.

"Bastards," growled Terry as he hexed a retreating Death Eater in the back, "Make them fear us!" he roared to his Legionnaires, and they shouted acknowledgment, unleashing another barrage of curses into the retreating enemy, "Make them bleed and never come back!"

His Legionnaires were more than happy to do so.

In what used to be the front gardens of the Burrow and the once picturesque open countryside on the outskirts of Ottery St. Catchpole had been transformed into Hell: the bodies of the fallen littered the ground as brush fires simmered and burned. The sickly stench of metal, copper tainted the air. The twin scents of burnt flesh and ash coated the back of everyone's throat. It was a smell so strong it was practically a taste upon the tongue. The moment the Death Eaters had chosen the copse to make their last stand; the Legion had plastered the area in enough anti apparition and anti portkey fields to cover all of Diagon Alley twice over.

"They're a malignant pox," muttered Shaklebolt, "The only thing we can do is destroy them all. But I suppose…" Harry watched in amazement as the Auror stepped out of cover and shouted, with the aid of a Sonorus charm, "We only make this offer once! Surrender yourselves to justice or…"

The piercing charm lanced from somewhere amongst the trees and took the Auror straight it the chest, throwing him off his feet, and he crashed to the ground covering the hole in his chest as he coughed up a mouthful of blood. "Medic!" shouted Harry before turning his attention to Shacklebolt, "You, mother fucking idiot!" spat Harry, "When are you going to learn that these animals need to be put down, not negotiated with?"

He turned to the stand of trees only a few dozen meters away and contemplated his options for a moment. Enough had died on both sides, and he had no interest in letting any more of his legionnaires die today. He channeled his magic, slowly, feeling the power well up inside him, grow hot against his skin, he almost began the incantation when a voice oiled its way out of the trees, "So very noble Potter." He would recognize that sneering tone anywhere, "Offering your enemies the chance to surrender."

"Snivellius," whispered Harry. A smile crossed his face: As far as Harry was concerned Christmas had come early this year as a single black-robed Death Eater stepped out and onto the open ground. A silver mask landed on the ground. Bloodstained his mouth and lower part of his face, "I challenge you to a duel, you half-blood bastard!"

"Harry, don't!"

"It's a trap!"

"He's insane!"

The voice overlapped, urging him not to do this, not to answer the challenge, and all of them promptly fell silent at a look from him, except for one, "You're insane too you know that?"

"Yeah," agreed Harry, "I probably am Susan, I probably am." Harry stepped out and onto the blood-streaked and fire-blackened grass, staring straight into the eyes of the man that hated him, and that he hated for the past six years with nearly every iota of his being. "Snivellius," said Harry cordially, "Ready to die you, bastard traitor?"

"Not really, but your celebrity status has gone to your head, Potter. We shall see, who the better man is!" said Snape as he raised his wand, holding it outstretched like a jousting lance.

Harry just raised an eyebrow, and adopted a duelist's stance, sweeping his right leg back, wand outstretched overhead. His weight rested entirely on his back foot, as his muscles coiled, ready to spring in any direction. Fiery magic exploded from Severus's wand as he charged at Harry. Instinctively, the wand spun as Harry adopted a double-handed grip. The same pillar of energy flared into existence absorbing the fiery blast, "You don't think I'd actually bow to you? I'd sooner bow to Voldemort."

"You will be a corpse I present to him!" oiled Snape, "And I will be rewarded beyond the wildest dreams imaginable!" The former Potions Master of Hogwarts charged forwards, adopting a similar double-handed grip on his own wand as a similar blade of energy, a violently bright red of magma from the heart of a volcano, "You cannot match my skill with such arcane weaponry Potter!"

"You never repented," said Harry conversationally, "Once a Death Eater always a Death Eater." On the inside, Harry was seething with anger, but would not let that rage emerge, not yet. The Gue'la animal less than a dozen feet away, "I can't deny that I'm going to enjoy this Snivellius," said Harry. With less than ten feet separating them, Harry exploded into a blur of motion, ducking and rotating his body as the magma red blade sliced through the air above Harry's head as the Legion Commander smashed his shoulder into the Death Eater's chest, throwing him backward.

Snape dug in his heels and arrested his backward slide, bringing his blade up to meet and parry a quartet of rapid high-low-high-low blows. The blades met with a loud harsh screaming hiss as their blades clashed again, their faces inches from the others. Harry's foot rose and Snape was struck backward again.

This time Snape rode the blow, his blade vanishing as he unleashed another blast of fiery magic before charging forward behind it, reigniting the magma blade. Harry caught the spell on his own blade, feet spread to absorb the shock that radiated down the blade, into his wand and hands.

Snape spun his blade in a rising slash, which Harry only managed to spot an instant before it would have cleaved him in two and weaved his body around the hissing column to stab for Snape's exposed stomach. But the Death Eater managed to drag his own blade back down to guard, sucking in his stomach and almost bending himself double to parry the thrust, pushing Harry's deep sapphire blue blade out wide.

Harry twisted away, evading the omnidirectional cutting blade that flashed in, managing to duck a slash to head as he leaped over a quick slash at his legs. He countered with a mighty one-handed overhead chop. Snape leaped back and the blade plowed into the earth, blowing up a shower of charred grass and soil.

The rest could only watch in disbelief as the two dueled each other with their magical blades, "Can wands…actually do that?" asked Terry.

"Given that they're both doing it… I guess…yes," replied Susan Bones. They turned their attention back to the fight as Harry twirled, his blade spinning around him in a one-handed maneuver that parried another series of rapid strikes until Harry suddenly threw his strength behind his parry, throwing Snape off balance. Harry stepped in, his left fist rising and shooting across like an engine-driven piston directly into the Death Eater's jaw, spinning him around. Harry's right leg snapped out, driving the air from Snape's lungs followed by a vicious two-handed punch to the back of the head, driving him to the broken ground.

Snape gasped in pain, but a quick sweep of his arm sent his magma blade cutting out at Harry's legs, which the Legion Commander had to leap over. Snape scrambled back to his feet in time to intercept a power dive from Harry that made their blades screech, almost as if in agony before they broke apart. A bolt of witch fire flew from Snape's wand, forcing Harry to guard. The Death Eater smiled and spun in, driving Harry's blade upwards and out of the way, allowing Snape to return the damage with an elbow to the chin that caused Harry's teeth together with a harsh "click!" that chipped a tooth, followed by another punch to the face. Harry spun away, but Snape came in hard with a wide slash that caught Harry along his flank, charring the armor black. The energy of the blow was stopped, but not the kinetic force which cracked, if not broke several of Harry's ribs.

Harry gasped in pain but maintained his guard as Snape pounded his blade against Harry's, with a series of heavy-handed chops and slashes that forced Harry onto the retreat. "Pathetic Potter," sneered Snape, "You are about as good as your father in a duel: Worthless. Lord Voldemort slew him in under a minute. You've barely fared half as well." The rage which had been burning in Harry reached that critical threshold. A fire was lit in his chest, like rage, anger, hatred bled through his body. With a roar, the Legion's Commander gestured forcefully with his left hand: Blue light rose from between his fingertips, ice and snow rippling around his fingertips as magic solidified and gathered upon the center of his outstretched hand. In a matter of seconds, there was a single shard of ice that cracked into a half dozen spears.

The glowing ice shards blasted themselves forward, faster than Severus Snape could even twitch. Severus Snape, however, was a member of Voldemort's Inner Circle. A wall of flame rose up and encircled the Death Eater within its flaming cocoon, turning the ice to steam in a heartbeat.

The two warriors locked gazes upon each other, their gazes filled with unbridled hatred for the other. Then, at that moment, they charged, rushing at each other across the uneven broken ground. The distance between them diminished with a brutal quickness, each preparing for the inevitable crash. It dawned on both of them, that this was the single strike that would decide their battle. They were less than ten feet apart and Snape spun, rising from the ground, high into the air, his deep ruby red blade rising into an overhead chop. He began to descend.

Harry did not even bother to spin, strike or even stop moving. He simply charged, turning his right shoulder to face his former potions professor and cast a single spell. Snape, expecting to meet a blade of energy was paralyzed by the first-year spell, his momentum completely stopped, his blade held out, almost comically outstretched in front of him. Harry's own blade had been held over his shoulder, and the blade cleaved across in a martial textbook perfect horizontal slash.

Bound by Petrificus Totatlus, Snape could not even blink in shock before the pain flared like a lightning bolt in his mind. He had felt a wind and heat pass through his wrist. But the full-body bind did not prevent his eyes from going wide as saucers as he saw his left hand, holding only half of his thirteen and a half-inch long, birch with dragon heartstring wand. His right hand, still holding more than seven inches of his wand was lying on the grass. It was poetic as he crashed to the ground, landing on his side, the smell of burnt flesh filling his nostrils, his eyes forced to stare at the unequivocal evidence of the deed: Legion Commander Harry James Potter had severed the right hand of Death Eater Severus Tobias Snape.

For the first and last time in his life, Snape knew that he had picked the losing side all those years ago. Harry's face bore a grin that was almost a parody of Death's Smile: All teeth, seemingly without gums or cheeks or flesh. The wand of Hermione Jane Granger was poised at the Death Eater's face, "Legilimens!"

The Death Eater's mind shields were formidable, but Harry shaped his mental energy into a spear: A diamond hard and sharp which smashed into the shield, and to Snape's shock, his shield actually cracked. There was nothing he could do as repeated assaults finally broke the defense and Harry's consciousness surged into his own.

It was a sea of filth and Snape fought valiantly, but in vain to force the foreign presence from his mind. But the incredible pain in his wrist made focusing his concentration impossible. There was nothing he could do as Harry ransacked his mind with the finesse of a house breaker who knew no one was home during the holidays, taking memory after memory without hesitation.

It was all Snape could do to curl into a ball upon the ground, shuddering from the pain of not only his missing hand but also from the violent rape of his mind. "Severus Tobias Snape," whispered Harry Potter, "The memories I have will ensure that you enjoy a long stay in Azkaban prison, the Light will rejoice in the knowledge that the Effingus are not limitless. But I have more pressing matters to attend to." He straightened up, cracking his neck and shoulders, and turned to the Legionnaires that had gathered around him, "Report."

"All Effingus neutralized, one Death Eater remains," said Susan quietly, "Area is secure but The Burrow is well," she pointed to the teetering smoking structure, "I'm amazed it's still standing."

"The Weasleys?" he asked quietly, bracing for the worst of it.

"Both fell," she said softly, "Legion casualties are minimal. Three…dead, fourteen wounded and evacuated. All should make a full recovery."

Harry had tuned out everything after hearing of the twin deaths of Arthur and Molly. They were the closest thing that he had ever known, ever had that could be considered parents. And their sons: Fred and George, his friends… his comrades… his brothers.

He cracked his fingers, wiggling them experimentally as he drew his magic. He carved a series of arcane sigils in the air, leaving burning contrails on the retinas of everyone who saw the sigils. But there were no words, no audible incantation. "Puterviscus!" he screamed with his mind. It was one of those curses that one normally does not hear about, despite what it does, given that in certain incredibly rate circumstances it actually has practical benefits. The dark curse was followed by the same simple first-year hex. Severus Snape would not be able to move, to make a sound, but his death was assured.

"Have we heard from any of the other groups?"

"Nothing," replied Terry Boot.

"Fifth-fourth fire team: Gather our dead, and take them to the Manor. The rest split by fire teams evens to Diagon with First and Second. Third, Fourth, and the rest: Hogsmeade! Apparate now!"

Within moments, there was nothing but the smoking, yet still standing Burrow and the Legion Commander. He turned to stare at the Death Eater, petrified upon the ground, unable to move. With a flick of his finger, the man's robes were shredded, revealing his abdomen. It was a mix of purple, grey, and black. The skin was distended and splitting open, spilling out gangrene yellow-green pus. The smell would get incredibly unpleasant in the next few minutes as the flesh rotted away while it still lived. He cast a simple invisibility charm with his left hand and then waved his wand and hand over Severus Snape, binding a time-delayed Fyndfire curse into the ground upon which the Death Eater lay. Harry leaned over, "I know everything you have ever done: From your betrayal of my mother to the girls of Slytherin House to the secret of the Effingus."

Waves of agony washed through Severus Snape as the curse continued its deathly work upon his flesh. The curse caused any living tissue it came in contact with to decay with excruciating slowness. Trapped by the intricate weave of hexes and curses, Snape could do nothing as waves of agony shot through his body as the tissues of his body continued to break down.

"Die slow, you sick fuck." He whispered before apparating away.

It was almost a day a half before the curse reached his internal organs, and another six hours before his lungs and heart were sufficiently corroded for him to die. When his heart stopped beating, fyndfire hungrily consumed the remains. Severus Snape was reduced to ash and the winds that swept around the Burrow erased his final fate from the historical records entirely.