A/N: Yes. You all finally get an update! I've been busy lately but I haven't forgotten or abandoned this story. It will be finished…eventually. In the meanwhile, I hope you enjoy this chapter. Any reviews or questions are appreciated and welcomed.
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Hermione looked upwards, hoping to find a semblance of recognition from above. All that greeted her was the rush of clouds overhead. Neville was moaning lightly on the ground, his stump held close to his chest. Gulping, Hermione picked up the spare hand and stuffed it in one of her bottomless pouches. Ron looked positively green at the sight of so much blood.
"Boost me up," Hermione shakily commanded.
"No," Ron answered vehemently, "Who knows what's up there?"
"Ron," Hermione snapped, tired of his stupidity, "There's a hole in the roof. Neville's lost a hand. We're in trouble no matter what, so pull it together and boost me up there!"
Too numb to argue with her, Ron cupped his hands together and crouched a bit to provide a solid foundation for her. Motioning to jump on three, Hermione vaulted upwards, her hand grabbing the ledge. Using her other foot to boost herself up via Ron's shoulder, Hermione peeked out.
The billowing smoke obscured most of her vision towards the engine of the train, but the mayhem was clearly visible towards the caboose. Death Eaters were still landing on the train, intent on capturing the precious cargo within. It irked Hermione that they simply didn't try derailing the train. Tactically, it was the most effective choice to make yet Voldemort was intent to pile the train with Death Eaters looking for Neville. Unfortunately, her explosive opening made it much easier for them.
"Granger, DOWN!"
Hermione obeyed the command, barely registering the owner of the voice in her mind. Ron did his best to catch her, the sudden fall catching him off-guard. Hermione scrambled to her feet, spells whizzing back and forth above her through the gap in the roof. She saw a figure leap over the chasm, unable to identify her savior.
A sudden wrenching noise erupted from the other side of the carriage causing Hermione and Ron to swivel on the spot to the far wall. Another hole erupted from above the roof and a ghastly figure dropped below.
"I should have known," Bates smugly said.
A pair of feet thudded besides Hermione, Ron, and the fallen Neville. Malfoy rose from a crouched position, his robes billowing around him and a malicious look in his eyes. He looked every bit the noble and ancient house of Malfoy. As their last descendant, he intended to finally extract his revenge.
In that dimly lit carriage, Bates continued smiling eerily at them as if he had a certain knowledge they didn't quite understand. The carriage swayed tumultuously, bending over a particularly sharp curve as the train steamed forward towards King's Cross. Malfoy stepped in front of them, shielding the trio from Bates with his wand held in front of him.
"Look at you now, Malfoy," Bates goaded, "Defending the Golden Trio." He enunciated the last two words with a mixture of disgust and loathing.
Malfoy didn't respond, his face gruesomely twisting with each hateful expression. He stepped again towards Bates, lessening the distance between him and his parent's killers.
"You're not leaving here alive, Bates," Malfoy spat.
Bates grinned even further, "No one is."
Malfoy leaped forward, his wand slashing through the air. Bates correctly parried, staying strong in the face of his adversary as they traded hexes and curses. They fought each other with exhausting ferocity, their wands slashing as if they were a pair of swords dueling in a bitter medieval feud.
Hermione took the opportunity to attack Bates, knowing Malfoy needed all the help he could get even if he chose to refuse it. She selectively aimed curses at him, trying to poke through his shield of impenetrable defenses and counter-jinxes. Ron followed suit, poking and prodding at Bates.
Bates accepted the challenge, his wand twirling in his fingers expertly as he dueled the three combatants. Sparks and beams of light danced inside the dim carriage, scorching the walls as they continued to push him to the brink of his magical limit. Malfoy took another step forward, sensing an advantage as Bates struggled to keep up.
Another step.
One more step.
Malfoy was a mere ten paces from Bates, Hermione and Ron backing him up as they penned him further and further into the corner of the carriage. A comatose Neville lay in the other side, seemingly safe from the chaotic battle ensuing in front of him. Bates was visibly sweating, out of taunts and jeers. Sheer survival propelled him as the curses got closer and closer.
Another step.
The sharks circled in for the kill, feeling their prey growing weaker as he treaded water, unable to escape or find any sort of lifeline. Malfoy, in particular, was in an almost zen-like state, not realizing which curses or jinxes he cast. For him, all he could see was the nightmare slowly shrinking in size, becoming diminutive in the face of unrelenting pressure.
Bates growled and screamed, flinging both his arms outwards as a wave of magic erupted from within. But Malfoy correctly countered him, his shield holding the spell at bay. It allowed Ron the perfect opportunity to incapacitate Bates as he struggled to recover from the strong spell. He struck perfectly, using the same spell he used on Neville and aiming for the meaty flesh above the enchanted, metal stump.
A gross thud resonated through the carriage as Bates tumbled, his shields falling and the hexes dying on the edge of his lips. Unable to balance himself on one leg, Bates fell, his iron leg ironically remaining upright as the feared Death Eater collapsed on the ground.
"Expelliarmus!" Hermione quickly yelled, reaching out to grand the Death Eater's wand.
It was over.
There was a sense of disbelief between Hermione and Ron, unable to comprehend the fact that they defeated one of Voldemort's top lieutenants. But Malfoy strode purposefully towards the colossal man and put his foot on Bates' throat. Sputtering blood and coughing phlegm, Bates snorted and looked up at the young, blond man.
"Arrogant and stupid, like your father," Bates wheezed, "Unable…to see…the big picture."
"And what's the big picture, Bates?" Malfoy calmly asked, the exact combination of spells ready in his mind.
Bates raised his head off the ground as much as he could with a boot on his neck, his demonic eyes dancing with delight as he peered into Malfy's cold, grey irises.
"You've already lost."
Malfoy made composed cutting motions as he severed both of Bates' arms off. The blood poured from his body, a lake of bodily fluids pooling around the fallen Death Eater. Malfoy then jabbed his wand into Bates' chest, muttering an incomprehensible spell under his breathe.
"That's the sound of your lung collapsing," Malfoy informed him, "It's enough for you to still breathe, but it'll be painful." Procuring a flask from his pocket, Malfoy dropped two droplets in Bates' mouth.
"A little bit of Blood Replenishing Potion. Don't want you to bleed out too quickly."
Malfoy took his foot off the man's neck, allowing him to digest the usually helpful potion. It was enough to provide him with more blood, but he was losing blood at a faster rate than the potion could replenish. All it did was prolong the torturous experience.
Malfoy looked back at a completely horrified Ron and Hermione. The pair had seen their fair share of atrocities throughout the war but this act seemed inhumane - almost surreal. He walked by them and knelt down besides Neville, examining the state of the Boy-Who-Lived.
"We'll need to get him some help."
Malfoy's statement went unanswered as Ron and Hermione remained shell-shocked from the dastardly deed they just witnessed. As they exited through the hole in the roof of the carriage, Bates kept sputtering - his last words reaching their ears one more time.
"You've…already…lost."
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Moody and Samson heard the commotion outside but stayed put, their one job forcing them to abandon the opportunity to help their allies. The pair was all that stood between any attackers and Ernie, conducting the train in a steadfastly violent pace.
"How much further?" Samson asked, hoping Moody's magical eye would be of use.
"Not that much I reckon," Moody answered.
The train breached the outer limits of London and it was only a matter of minutes before they reached their final destination. The tracks were uncluttered so far, allowing them to reach King's Cross at a merciful time of their choosing. Once they slowed to a stop, it would only be minutes before hordes of Death Eaters and other vile creatures descended on them.
"It was a good plan," Samson admitted.
"It's only a good plan if it works," Moody said, "If it doesn't, it's a failure."
"The outcome shouldn't effect the decision," Samson explained.
"Theoretically, no. But we don't work in the theoretical. We still need to somehow sneak Longbottom into that tower. Then, I'll call it a successful plan. Everything after that is up to the prophecy."
"Do you really believe in that?" Samson wondered, not used to such things as prophecies.
"Me? No," Moody snorted, "I believe in killing every last one of these Death Eaters but that's simply impractical.
A ghost of a smile skimmed across Samson's face, "Impractical…"
A thud from above interrupted their conversation. Moody used a few hand signals to convey his directions and Samson nodded back, understanding the code. They moved into their positions, catching the potential victim in a crossfire should they dare try to enter the door.
The situation became complex as a pair of other muffle voices could be heard on the other side of the door. Samson looked at Moody in confusion. Moody pointed towards his eyes and back towards the door. His message was clear.
Confirm your kill.
It was an old saying amongst the experienced Aurors and Hit Wizards. Death Eaters often used human shields and resorted to other uncouth tactics that regularly jeopardized innocent bystanders. Thus, it was important for Aurors and Hit Wizards to be accurate and purposeful in their spells.
The door creaked open and Moody and Samson brought their respective weapons to the ready. A single person flew through the door, deflecting spells from behind him. It took only one second for Moody to confirm the unknown was a Death Eater and fired a spell at him. Samson swiveled the shotgun on his shoulder and fired at the same time. Suffice to say, the shotgun did much more damage.
The Death Eater bounced backwards, the shotgun shells exploding on his chest. He was dead in just a minute and Moody was left cracking his jaw to alleviate the dull ringing in his ears. Spells usually cackled and spat but the shotgun boomed inside the carriage, popping his eardrums. Samson, used to the shotgun fire, barely blinked. Ginny and Seamus rushed in behind him and stopped at the Death Eater at their feet. Seamus whistled lowly as he inspected the damage.
"That thing packs a punch," the Irishmen commented.
"Packs more than a punch," Moody stuck a finger in his ear in an attempt to alleviate the temporary ringing, "Do you have a spare?"
"I do, but it'd be better if I just held on to this."
Moody shrugged, "Suit yourself."
The quartet swayed as they felt the brakes crunching against the rails below them. The train groaned in protest, trying to halt the considerable weight. At last, the train suddenly stopped, the deafening roar vanishing into thin air. The only sounds were the distant voices in the background, no doubt continuing the duel in other parts of the train. The door to the conductor of the train snapped open and an exhausted looking Ernie poked his head out.
"We're here."
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The Death Eaters who weren't captured or killed fled once they realized the train stopped. What ever there orders were, it didn't extend once the train stopped. Harry had no doubt they would see those same Death Eaters later that day. He rushed towards the third carriage of the train where Hermione and the others were supposed to be.
Predictably, they were not where they were supposed to be.
His fears were quickly assuaged as he spotted Ron's fiery hair from across the crowd of injured allies. Quickly traveling through the jagged mess of bodies, Harry saw they were huddled around a prone Neville and Ginny was kneeling next to the pale boy.
"I can get it reattached but it will be painful and he'll need to rest," Ginny explained.
"For how long?" Harry suddenly asked.
The aforementioned cast including Malfoy looked up at Harry's sudden presence. Hermione reached up with her hand and clasped Harry's immediately, taking comfort in his presence. Ginny was the only one who didn't look up, still tending to Neville's ghastly wound.
"Do I want to know how that happened?" Harry asked before Ginny could answer his original question.
"My fault," Ron gulped, his face ashen as he stared at the impromptu healing session.
"He'll need bed rest for a day at the very least," Ginny recommended, knowing it was impossible.
"He doesn't have a day."
"I suppose he's going to fight Voldemort one handed then? That'll increase his odds," Malfoy said.
Before anyone could retort, another voice barked, "What's the hold up here?"
Moody limped towards them, upset that they weren't already charging towards the tower. He shook his head as he saw the unconscious body of Neville Longbottom and the people surrounding the supposed savior.
"We should've already been halfway towards the bridges already," Moody angrily lamented.
"Boy wonder lost a hand," Malfoy said, completely dead-panned.
"I lost a leg," Moody whacked the offending limb, "He's gotta get over it and move on."
At a lost, Ginny looked up at Harry, "I can stabilize it and apply a numbing wax so he won't feel anything but I can't possibly reattach his hand during the attack. It needs time to heal."
Harry already knew what the decision would be. They had little to no choice.
"Wake him up. Tell him what he has to do."
There was little argument from the rest of the peanut gallery. The momentum was already building and soon it would feel as if they had no choice at all. Once the first gears of the train churned forward, they set themselves on a collision course with Voldemort and the dark tower.
"I'll do it," Ginny offered.
Harry nodded and signaled to Moody that he needed a word. The rest of the units ran about, preparing themselves for the assault on the tower. Moody consulted his magical map and laid it out on a nearby bench, outlining the assault plan.
Special reconnaissance revealed a mass of Death Eater reinforcements on the other side of the Thames. Word of their arrival would soon ripple throughout the Death Eater community and activate these reinforcements. In order to buy Neville and company enough time to stage some sort of attack on Voldemort, they would have to delay the reinforcements for a short amount of time.
Thus, they would divide the units into two groups. One that would attack and help Neville infiltrate the tower and one that would defend the primary entrance at Westminster bridge and the secondary entrance at Lambeth bridge. With the Anti-Apparition ward extending throughout all of London, everything would have to be on foot…or in the air.
Both forces were likely to experience immense casualties, but it would be foolish to split the resources equally. It was more important to insert Neville into the tower. Everything else would be for naught. The defense of the bridges was a temporary cork for an oncoming flood of enemies. Those units had the unfortunate responsibility of carrying out what amounted to be a suicide mission.
It was to Harry's great surprise that the first volunteer was Theodore Nott.
"I'll take my unit," Nott offered.
"I'll go as well," Samson chimed in, "I'm no use to you around this tower. I can barely tell what's going on."
A couple other unit commanders stepped forward and volunteered themselves for the perilous mission of defending the bridges. Throughout all the darkness and horror Harry witnessed, it was times like these that convinced him that all was not lost in the world. It convinced him that this world could still be salvaged.
He looked towards the tower, the ominous structure looming above them, awaiting their arrival. Harry could feel the pebble growing heavier around his neck as if it was attracted to the tower. He could no longer deny the feeling that his father left this seemingly innocuous object by accident. There was a meaning to the pebble around his neck; Harry just didn't know what it meant.
The units split up, one branch heading towards Big Ben, their staging ground, while the unit accompanying Harry and Neville took a straight line towards the tower.
No one knew the calamity that would ensue.
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It was often said that Slytherins were cunning, ambitious, but most of all - survivors.
But Slytherins also had a more unheralded trait. Unfailing courage in the face of certain death.
Nott knew that they would need time to break into the tower. Every precious second was a lifeline that they could hold onto while the boy wonder broke into this mysterious tower. Defending the bridges would not be easy and in Nott's opinion, shouldn't be left to those incapable of accomplishing the mission at hand.
It's often said that the Slytherin house had a negative reputation for saving their own neck before others, but many brave men and women represented the house of Slytherin. Nott was one of them and he didn't do it for the glory. He took a certain pride in accomplishing his mission and today would be no different.
They were many blocks away from the bridge but advanced scouting showed a relatively unimpeded path towards their staging ground at the base of Big Ben. The majority of Voldemort's other forces were centered in a tight ring around the tower, protecting its perimeter. The secondary reinforcements were staged across the river. During their first reconnaissance missions, Nott didn't understand why the reinforcements were over the bridge until he discovered the Death Eater camp.
The camp was filled with dastardly creatures ranging from giants and trolls to blood-hungry werewolves. It was an amalgam of Dark Arts creatures that required a certain control. The creatures often attacked each other and couldn't be trusted with the defense of the tower. They were chaos waiting to be unleashed.
A distant explosion rang from the direction of tower, but Nott pushed his unit further, not allowing himself to be distracted by the troubles of the other unit. They had a job to do and their outcome was not impacted by anything that happened to the other ill-fated journey. They encountered a few Death Eaters but dispatched of them quickly, moving as fast as they could to the Westminster bridge.
Nott exhaled as he reached the bridge and found no creatures crossing the narrow structure. It seemed the reinforcements were not yet called upon. Either Voldemort didn't know who was traveling in the train or assumed whatever assembled forces couldn't invade the tower. Nott prayed it was the second option. If Voldemort knew who was coming and still let them in, he was at a level of stratagem that was beyond Nott.
He dispatched a unit to the Lambeth bridge, mostly to keep him informed of the Death Eater's movements. The Death Eaters had no way of knowing the Minister's Army would set up defensive positions on the Westminster bridge. It was the most direct path towards the tower. There was every chance the Death Eaters could take the Waterloo bridge towards the north but that would only come once they realized the embedded forces at Westminster. By then, Nott hoped they would be retreating towards the tower.
Hope.
That's all they had.
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The majority of Harry's forces moved towards the tower, hoping to catch the Dark Lord's eye and hoping it was enough to masquerade their intentions. Neville followed along, staring at his stump with a far away look in his eyes. There was barely enough time to acclimate himself to his surroundings when Ginny informed him of his hand. Dean and Seamus were assigned to keep watch on him as Ron and Hermione kept a wide berth, refusing to discuss the manner in which Neville lost his hand.
Harry had a hunch. It's why he kept Hermione close and a wary eye on Neville.
They were moving up an alley, their forces spanning the width of the street when a lone Death Eater turned and suddenly faced them. There was a pause as all parties stopped moving, their feet coming to a shuffle as the Death Eater continued to stare at them. His hand twitched but died before he could even click his tongue against the roof of his mouth to enunciate the first syllable of the first curse that came to his unfortunate mind.
"Quick," Harry ordered, "They know we're coming."
The mob moved again, rushing towards the tower and closing the distance. They were at a disadvantage, not knowing where the next attack would take place. As they rounded one more corner, Harry felt the wave of magic and used his slightly prophetic skills to push everyone backwards. Hexes crashed against the walls, splintering apart the concrete as they finally encountered the first ring of defense.
Harry ordered them to move into position. They could easily fall into a grueling stalemate and Harry couldn't afford an everlasting trench battle. At all costs they would have to continue moving forward, slicing through their defenses and hopefully keeping the Death Eaters off guard with their forward movement.
"Move! MOVE!" Moody yelled, oblivious to the dangerous hexes whirling above his head. He waved them forward, either uncaring or unfazed by the Death Eaters desperately trying to kill the infamous Auror.
They ducked and moved forward, moving between buildings and using them as cover to avoid the Death Eaters. Harry made sure to keep Hermione, Ron, and Neville protected, sensing he would need all three to make into the tower and extract his own version of revenge. They successfully crossed one alley, losing no one in the process. As he looked out to the next street, he saw a Death Eater in every single window and every door of the buildings around the street.
Harry turned around, ducking his head into his chest and momentarily allowing himself a deep breathe. A hand touched his bicep, coaxing him out of his temporary peace. He looked at Hermione, her eyes concerned as a war waged on around them. Voices permeated his brain as the flash of lights sparkled from outside. He could see her mouth moving but couldn't hear anything. He felt himself say, "What?"
"Are you okay?"
"I'll be okay when this is all over," Harry muttered, feeling a bit of his old self coming out.
"We'll all be okay," Hermione assured him, "We just have to keep going. Keep fighting."
Harry nodded, his eyes skimming above her head as he accepted her hug, relishing in the warm feeling. He caught Neville, staring out a window while Dean aimed a spell towards a presumed Death Eater in the distance. Neville had the same far away look in his eyes, barely registering his surroundings.
How was Neville supposed to defeat Voldemort?
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Nott ordered the units around, setting the defenses and traps that would hopefully buy them some time before the inevitable flank. If he forced the Death Eaters to the Waterloo bridge, he succeeded. If they punched through their defenses…
He had a nice breakfast if all else failed.
As he barked at Zabini to set some specific traps along the bridge, he noticed the Muggle loading what looked to be a shotgun. Cursing to himself, Nott walked towards Samson, trying to figure out a polite way to tell him he wouldn't be needed.
"Samson?" Nott asked. He never spoke to the man before.
"Nott, I presume," Samson responded without looking up. He plugged shell after shell into the shotgun.
"I have to be frank, I don't know where to put you."
"As close as you can," Samson grinned at him.
Nott shook his head, the bravado not impressing him. "What are you even doing here?"
"I wouldn't be any help around the tower. Our fighters gave it a pass and did nothing to it. I doubt my shotgun would be of any help. I can help you here instead."
Nott nodded, knowing the effectiveness of the Muggle weapon.
"We're waiting for them to cross the bridge. We've rigged the bridge with enough traps to take out the first wave. Once they start to cross, we'll blow the bridge with a series of spells that take out the support beams," Nott outlined the plan.
"Why don't you just take out all the bridges?" Samson asked.
"It's not that easy to destroy a bridge."
"Can't you just wave your wand and cause some explosions?"
"Our spells aren't that strong. We can barely obliterate a building much less a concrete bridge with strong foundational support. The lot of us can destroy one bridge, not three."
"And one bridge will be enough?"
"No," Nott paused, "But it'll buy us some time."
A loud, guttural shriek pierced through the air. Nott jumped up on a spare rock, balancing on his tip toes as he looked towards the distance. Approaching the bridge was a hulking figure. At first, all Nott could see were the head and shoulders of the troll. It lumbered forward and as it appeared above the horizon, he could see a few Death Eaters trailing at its feet.
It was the sight behind the troll that caused concern.
Hundreds and hundreds of creatures emerged. Trolls, giants, werewolves, Dementors, and Death Eaters were baring down upon them. Hopping down from his vantage point, Nott signaled for everyone to stay down. Samson fell down against him, his back pressed against the chest high wall. Nott peeked out again, seeing the first troll causing the threshold of the bridge. Making eye contact with Zabini, he nodded his head and gave the signal.
An area trigger charm tripped as the troll crossed an invisible line and a blaze of fire erupted around him, engulfing the enraged creature in torturous flames. The Death Eaters doused the troll, but it was furious. Blind with rage, it swung it's club about, knocking about some other Death Eaters until they were forced to subdue it.
The Death Eaters foolishly rushed forward and more traps erupted around them, ensnaring them in vines and engulfing them in flames. But the Death Eaters pushed forwards, sensing the enemy on the other side of the bridge. They came closer and closer to the critical line. Once Nott deemed they were close enough, he gave one more signal.
The wizards leaped from their hiding spots and fired at the support beams of the bridge, pulverizing the underside of the bridge in mere seconds. The concrete gave way as the middle section of the bridge collapsed, creating a sizable gap. Nott's unit and several others started attacking them from across the bridge, using projectiles to hit their long range targets. They were pushing them back and the Death Eey aters fought to reign the beasts under control.
Nott allowed himself a small smile but it didn't last long.
One of the giants ran forward and soared through the air, jumping the gap created by the explosion. It landed on the other side, its arms crunching against the pavement as the giant regained it's balance. With an inhuman roar, the giant charged forward.
"TAKE IT DOWN!" Nott screamed as the fire shifted towards the giant.
They managed to kill the giant, the combination of spells proving too much for it's thick hide. But then another giant jumped across. And then another. The giants and trolls leaped across, able to cross the chasm with their thick, strong legs. The Death Eaters were taking turns levitating each other across the bridge and it wouldn't be long before they all crossed. Their plan had failed.
"Hold the line!" Nott ordered, refusing to let them cross so easily, "Delay them for as long as possible!"
They looked at each other, knowing death was imminent. Nott's order was a death warrant. They couldn't possibly hold the line against the sheer number of forces barreling down the bridge. But they stayed. They wouldn't abandon each other now.
"Take as many of these fuckers as you can."
As the giants gained momentum and sprinted towards the embedded wizards, Samson suddenly heard a cackle from his pocket. He stepped away from Nott, who was still doling out orders to slow down the giants.
"Samson. Samson! Come in!"
"It's Samson!" Samson yelled into his long range communications device, "Please tell me you're here to help."
"Samson, incoming within two minutes. You need to give us specifics. I don't know what the fuck we're aiming at from up here."
Samson whirled around, looking at the bridge. The first couple of giants collapsed underneath spells but the other giants took no heed for their fallen comrades. Hurdling over the fallen bodies, the giants continued on their path.
"Samson? Coordinates?" The voice cackled again.
"We - Westminster bridge. Aim for everything crossing the Westminster bridge!"
"Say again?"
"The BRIDGE! Blow up the damn bridge!"
Samson ran towards Nott, the device cackling away in his hand. Tugging at Nott's robes, Samson looked on in horror as the giants came closer, not fifty feet away.
"Nott!"
Nott didn't respond.
"NOTT!"
"WHAT IS IT, SAMSON?" Nott roared, enraged the Muggle would interrupt him at this crucial time.
"Get down!" Samson yelled at him, "Tell everyone to get down!"
"Why?!" Nott confusedly asked.
"Everything's about to go to hell!"
Nott's back was turned to the bridge so he missed the first series of explosions. The missiles were dead accurate, striking the first wave of giants. The resulting concussion pushed Nott off his feet and caused Samson to crouch against a wall. The next series of explosions tore the bridge apart, blasting the Death Eaters to smithereens. Looking up, Nott watched as five or six jets screamed overhead. More jets followed behind it, dropping another payload on the monsters on the bridge.
The Muggles had arrived.
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