Sparks flew off the blade of the sword as Rotan twisted it around to shield himself from Fenrir Greyback's claws then brought it around in a swing that would have split the werewolf's torso open. The werewolf was faster than that and ducked, springing forward in a headbutt that caught the aging general in the chest. Rotan flew back, skidding a few feet across the ground, mostly unscathed thanks to his enchanted armor. Greyback stood still for a moment, before rising onto two feet and walking over almost casually.
Rotan leaned on his sword as he stood back up, then brought it up in a vicious slash that caught the werewolf in the hip. Greyback's reflexes saved him from taking any more damage as he spun to the side to avoid the sword. The werewolf growled angrily and leapt up into the air, coming down hard on the general. Rotan raised his blade, only to find it batted aside by sharp claws, and barely managed to wedge his sword in between himself and Greyback's heavy body as the werewolf landed on top of them, bringing both of them crashing to the ground.
Greyback snapped at his neck angrily, held at bay only by the sword Rotan was struggling to hold in between them. The old general heaved, trying to toss Greyback off his chest, but the wolf was too heavy. The strain of trying to hold off the werewolf's weight with his arms slowly forced the sword down, bringing Greyback's fangs ever closer to his neck. Rotan couldn't spare a hand to reach for the dagger in his belt, nor could he use his legs, pinned under Greyback's as they were. Blood began seeping out from his fist where he was clutching the blade of his sword, mixing with the blood that was dripping down from Greyback's mouth.
" Telum Argentis !" the conjured silver arrow slammed into Greyback's side, causing him to roll over and howl in pain as the silver burned its way through his fur and skin. Rotan used the diversion to pull his arms - now freed from the burden of his opponent's weight - back and punch the werewolf in the snout with his armored gauntlet.
Greyback howled in frustration and dove to the side to avoid the barrage of spells that followed, allowing Rotan to regain his footing. The general gave a quick nod to Remus Lupin as the former teacher reached him from where he'd fired at Greyback. The werewolf was getting back to his feet, as well, his left side smoking and burnt. Lupin shuddered at the look of intense hatred in Greyback's eyes - he had seen such a look before, but never combined with such a thirst for blood as in Fenrir Greyback. At that point, Remus realized that no matter how much he tried to rally the werewolf community to oppose Voldemort, Greyback was far beyond any redemption. He would shed blood and continue shedding blood until he was either killed, or everyone on the planet was dead. Fenrir Greyback wasn't really allied with Voldemort, he just ran along a parallel track, killing the people in the dark lord's way first. But once the war was over and Voldemort had won, the werewolf would turn against him, as well.
"You take him on the left," Rotan muttered quietly. Remus nodded and the two spread out, slowly circling around Greyback until the werewolf had trouble tracking both of them at the same time.
Greyback made his move, knowing that once he could no longer see both of his opponents at the same time, he would be vulnerable. Lowering himself down to all fours, he took advantage of the leg strength of his werewolf form and rushed towards Lupin, knowing that the wizard, with his ability to conjure up silver arrows and fire spells, was by far the more dangerous opponent. Remus saw the charge, but the sheer speed of it caught him off-guard, forcing him to dive to the side to avoid being eviscerated by Greyback's claws. The werewolf skidded to a halt and turned around, lining up for another dash at the wizard, only to find himself caught in an explosion of smoke and debris. Ignoring the visual hindrance and relying on his sense of smell to guide him, Greyback charged again.
Remus allowed himself an almost Snape-like smirk as he heard Greyback dashing forward through the smoke. He'd cast an explosive hex into the ground as he dove to the side, knowing that it would visually impair him, but he had wanted Greyback to think he was desperate. He knew that the werewolf didn't have to rely on sight to find him, and stood perfectly still, waiting for Greyback to emerge from the smoke. When he did, Remus hauled back and tossed the dagger he held in his left hand, before conjuring up a barrier in front of him.
Greyback howled as the dagger struck and he ran right into an invisible, solid wall, more from the shock of running into a barrier than the pain. Soon, though, he began curling in on himself as the Wolfsbane poison the dagger had been coated with took effect, setting his blood on fire as the poison fought with his werewolf blood for dominance. The long snout shortened and the fur all over his body slowly receeded, and Greyback continued screaming in agony. Lupin and Rotan carefully approached him as he lay on the ground. Rotan began reaching for his silver-coated dagger.
"Wait." Remus glanced down at the twisting, shivering man on the ground. "We need to know what Voldemort's plan is."
"What do you mean?" Rotan had the dagger at the ready, and was kneeling next to Greyback, ready to slit his throat.
"No one's seen Voldemort on the battlefield. It's as if he's not even here. Every time he's fought in an open battle, he was all the way up front, tearing through our troops, but not this time. He's nowhere around. It's like he's somewhere else."
Rotan looked at the other man, a grim set to his jaw. "You think he's gone to Azkaban."
"I don't know for sure, but we should find out." Remus knelt down and reached out to secure Greyback's arms. "Greyback, listen to me. Greyback!"
"G-g-go t-to h-h-hell, Lupin!" the werewolf hissed. "W-what have y-y-you d-done to me?"
"It's a derivative of the Wolfsbane potion, Greyback. It's fighting with your werewolf blood to try and reverse the transformation." Remus left unsaid that because it was a combat poison, Snape had deliberately added to the mixture in order to cause pain and slow down the transformation to incapacitate its target.
"S-s-snape, that f-filthy l-little… w-when I get m-m-my hands on h-him…"
"Greyback, listen to me," Lupin began, only to be cut off as the downed werewolf reached out with a shaky hand and wrapped it around Lupin's neck.
"N-no listening, n-n-no s-surrender."
"You're dying, Greyback. That poison in the dose you were given is lethal." Remus easily removed the hand from his throat. "Where is Voldemort? Tell me, Greyback. Where is he?"
The werewolf managed a tortured chuckle. "And w-what? You'll g-give me the anti-dote? I'd r-rather die than a-accept help f-from you."
Rotan and Lupin shared a quick look. "There is no antidote," Remus told Greyback softly. "The poison is irreversible. Even if you did survive, you will never again transform."
"Well, then, you can keep me company in hell!" Remus tried to get out of the way, but Greyback managed to produce a dagger from his tattered robes and stab it deep into the former teacher's chest. Lupin fell back, clutching at the weapon, even as Greyback slowly rose to his feet, blood gushing from his mouth and eyes. "If I die, then I will take you all to hell with me-"
Greyback cut off in his maniacal laughter when Rotan's sword swiftly decapitated him. The headless body collapsed to the ground, and Rotan quickly knelt next to Lupin. "That hurt," Remus noted dryly, coughing up a little blood.
"Don't talk. Let me see if I can pull out the dagger." Rotan inspected the wound. The blade was in deep, but luckily it had missed all of the vital organs. Greyback had aimed for the heart, but Lupin's last second dodge had caused the dagger to glance off his ribs. Sure, the bone was nicked, but that could easily be fixed. No, the more threatening issue was blood loss, because he was sure that the weapon was enchanted, and he didn't want to risk pulling it out. Rotan tore a strip of fabric from his tunic. "Here, hold that around the wound."
Remus did as he was told, his eyes widening in surprise when instead of stemming the bleeding, the action of pressing the cloth against the wound increased it. "What the-"
"It's enchanted," Rotan growled. Probably the more one tried to stop the bleeding, the more it would bleed, he thought darkly.
"Stupid Greyback." Remus deadpanned, glancing over at the headless corpse.
"We need to get you to a medic." Rotan stood, looking around. "Can you stand?"
Remus tried to get back to his feet, but even with help from the general, his knees kept buckling. "Damn. Looks like it was poisoned, too."
Rotan frowned as he called his guards around him. They had to get Remus into the building, which meant punching a line through the enemy attack. That would take a lot of skill and a minor miracle. The werewolves ahead of them charged ahead, enraged by Greyback's death, and had slammed into Rotan's front line with full force. Their renewed assault had taken the defenders by surprise, and the line had buckled, so much so that the gun emplacement he'd used earlier was now silent, and individual melees and chaos were spreading throughout his section.
Rotan waved over one of his guards. "Make sure he's safe," he ordered, gesturing down at Lupin. "We need to get him inside. Take your men and try to make your way towards the building."
"What about you, sir?"
"I'll keep them off your back. We can't let them get into the building until the defenses are complete."
The ice soldier looked like he was about to object, but then nodded, collecting a dozen men and making his way towards the rear of their lines. Rotan watched them go for a long moment, hoping that they'd be facing less opposition than the unit he'd sent to try and reach the center sections under Hiscohpney's command.
" Forsta !" he shouted in his native tongue, holding his sword high up in the air. Around him, the ice soldiers recognized the call, and those that were not immediately engaged rallied around. "Reform your lines! Dig your heels into the ground! For the honor of the North!"
"For the honor of the North!" the battlecry echoed around him as the soldiers set themselves to meet the oncoming forces of darkness.
Hiscophney didn't show it, but he was worried. It wasn't so much that either Rabastan Lestrange or Draco Malfoy were a threat to him, far from it. Individually, their dueling skills, while impressive, were far inferior to his. It was the fact that both of them together had managed to even the odds more than the Count liked to admit. The troops that had accompanied him were currently engaged in a brutal melee with the dark forces Draco and Lestrange had brought with them, and with the battle all around him, the Count found himself unable to use more destructive spells. Add to that the fact that each time he knocked one of them away, he was unable to finish his opponent off, because the other would try and attack him from behind.
What was worse was that he knew they were stalling him. Neither of the dark wizards held out any hope to actually be able to defeat him in single combat - well, maybe Lestrange did, but the man was borderline delusional with regards to his skills in the dark arts. They were merely holding up his attempt to relief the northern flank, knowing that if they could overrun those guns, they would have a clear shot at the rest of the Ministry.
Then something he'd been afraid of during the whole battle happened. The guns on the northern emplacement fell silent as the hiss of a giant snake resonated around the battlefield. The guns picked up again almost immediately, but that brief pause had been long enough for the hordes of creatures to push their way almost to the large cannons. By now, his own troops were cut off from either flank as the defensive lines crumbled, and they were almost completely surrounded. A few stray Dementors swooped down across the lines, sucking out whatever souls they could get a hold of. Out of the two battalions he had brought with him, . He knew what that meant. They were out of time.
Muttering a quick prayer for the desecration he was about to commit, he gripped the pendant that hung around his neck and prepared to unleash one of his most powerful spells. Draco and Lestrange saw him just standing there, and took the opening, firing off the killing curse. Before the sickly green spells could reach the sorcerer, a wave of energy rippled out from Hiscophney, washing across an area a hundred yards in diameter. All of the fighting stopped as the ground began to shake, the marble stairs crumbling under their feet. Ice soldiers, sorcerers, dark creatures, and wizards fought to keep their balance as the localized earthquake shook the ground, but only the sorcerers, and only those closest to Hiscophney, knew what this meant.
The green bolts of the killing curse dissipated against the wave, leaving both Draco and Lestrange staring in open-mouthed surprise. After a minute, the ground stopped shaking and started collapsing downwards, caving in as though the earth itself underneath the Ministry had just disappeared. The wind picked up, howling in everyone's ear as everyone and everything inside the hundred-yard radius of the spell found themselves pulled towards the center of the spell. Hiscophney stood there, seemingly unaffected by the forces acting on everything else as he commanded his magic to create the most forbidden of objects: a black hole.
"O blackness without beginning or end…" the Count chanted as he stood in the center of the maelstrom, his arms spread wide. "One-eyed god imprisoned there, now harken to my call!"
The entire ground around contracted, space itself warping inside the hemispherical spell as the magic forced everything into an implosion that would kill anything within and tear a gaping hole into Voldemort's forces. Hiscophney knew what he was doing; there was a reason why this spell was sealed away and considered banned. It went far beyond manipulating the elements, it called on the force of gravity itself to create something so dangerous that, if it went out of control, it could easily destroy the entire world. He was aware that he was dooming hundreds of his fellow Trazkabanian sorcerers and ice soldiers to death, but looking at the fighting going on around him, Voldemort's forces would take a much greater hit. With any luck, this one spell would wipe out thousands of dark creatures and wizards.
A small smile played around Hiscophney's lips as he thought of his wife and daughter. Their culture was a violent one, but despite that, they treasured women and children, because they were a symbol of the future, something that he believed the wizarding world had long forgotten. As he prepared himself to finish the spell and collapse the entire sphere, along with the several thousand beings in it, into a pinprick, he knew that his family would be safe. Lord Polairix would see to it.
" Gravity -" he halted in the middle of the final words to the spell when a new battlecry rose from behind the dark forces. That was followed by a hail of arrows so thick it blocked out the sky. The silver-tipped arrows brought down vampires and werewolves alike, and Death Eaters dropped in scores from the opening salvo. Everyone around Hiscophney, all the men and creatures that would have gotten caught in his spell, looked up as his shimmering dome dissipated, to behold the sight of dozens of goblin airships flying by overhead, their archers already nocking another set of arrows. The air resounded with the report of the airships' heavy cannons as fire and death rained down on Voldemort's forces from above.
The pop of multiple apparitions signaled the entry of more wizards to the battle, and Hiscophney found himself staring into the face of Neville Longbottom. The boy gave him a shy grin and a sloppy salute. "Potter's Legion, reporting, Mr. Commander, sir."
"Didn't Potter order you children to stay at home?"
"He did, but this is going to affect all of us. This isn't your war, or the ice people's war. This is our war. It's because wizards like Fudge that you got dragged into this. Being here, fighting alongside you, is the least we can do." Neville glanced over at the still shell-shocked Draco and Rabastan Lestrange. "I'll take Draco. We better hurry, before the surprise wears off."
"Agreed." Hiscophney smirked and threw a lightning spell at Lestrange, effectively separating him from Draco. Maybe there is hope for the wizarding world yet, he thought, with people like Potter and Longbottom .
Harry strained under the force of the Dementors' assault, and the few Patronii interspersed between the fighting groups didn't do much to help. The entirety of the battle around them vanished as he closed his eyes in concentration. The thousand Dementors battering at his mental shields took more power to hold at bay than he believed he had, but the ivory wand in his hand continued to maintain its brilliant white light. He wasn't aware of the frontlines crumbling, wasn't aware that the ice people's heavy artillery had stopped firing. He didn't know that the southern flank had been cut off, or that Hiscophney's attempt to come to the northern flank's aid had been stopped cold and surrounded. He knew nothing of Rotan's duel with Fenrir Greyback, or that around him, ice people and sorcerers were rushing inside to move the anti-personnel cannons from the center emplacement.
All he knew was that there was something evil, malicious, and dark battering at his mind, and that he needed to keep it at bay. Then, suddenly, he heard a voice in his mind.
Master, we are here. We hear your command. We will fight. The strain eased a little bit, enough for Harry to open his eyes. Above him, he could see Dementors dashing around each other, their shadowy forms entwined in a deadly flying ballet. From the north, a small stream of Dementors drove deep into the masses hovering above them as the creatures arrived from Azkaban. Harry could only look on in surprise as the hundred or so Dementors that were bound to the seat of Polairix dueled with a force ten times their size.
" Expecto Patronum !" The shout went up just after the friendly Dementors arrived.
Friendly Dementors? Harry mused with a slight hint of amusement. He wouldn't have believed it possible, but…
The combined Patronii from the Legion along with the distraction provided by the Dementors overhead finally allowed Harry some breathing room. He glanced over, only to find a unit of ice soldiers under heavy fire. While he could move and think and didn't have to dedicate his entire will to holding the Dementors at bay, he still was unable to effectively engage in combat. "Shacklebolt," he called out. The dark-skinned auror immediately broke off his spellcasting and looked over where Harry was pointing with his free hand.
"Got it, Harry," he replied. "Evans, McDermott, Owens, you're with me. Let's give them some fire support!"
The four aurors took off, managing to give the ice soldiers enough support to break through. When they passed him, Harry's blood ran cold when he realized they were carrying an injured Remus Lupin with them. One of the soldiers hurried over from the injured werewolf. "Milord, a message from Master Lupin and General Rotan. Voldemort is not on this battlefield."
"What?"
"Voldemort is not here, milord," the ice soldier repeated.
Dear lord… Harry thought, looking up at the Dementors above him. Was the fortress under attack when you left? he thought up at the friendlies from Azkaban.
No, a cacophony of eerie voices replied.
"I need to leave," Harry muttered.
"Milord?" The ice soldier looked confused.
"I need to leave, now ! Voldemort's attacking Azkaban at this moment!" Harry looked out over the battlefield, for the first time noticing the goblin reinforcements. One airship was painted a dark gold, and it was followed by a second one in a silver trim. The two of them were heavily guarded, set in the middle of a formation of at least a dozen other airships that were making a beeline for Harry's position. Even as he watched, one of them got hit by a massive firespell from below, the ship's belly exploding into splinters as it fell out of the sky. Goblin soldiers, most armed to the teeth, fell out of the now open hull, orienting their bodies and weapons downwards. Even in death, they would inflict as much damage as they could.
The airships stopped right over Harry, and two ropes dropped down. Lord Silver and Lord Gold rappelled down from their respective command ships to stand before Harry. "The goblin army is here to aid, Lord Polairix, as per the conditions of our treaty."
The goblin grinned toothily. "It will be our pleasure to provide our assistance in this battle. We bring to bear our fleet and army, numbering three thousand soldiers," Lord Silver declared formally.
The ice soldier that had come over spoke up, filling in Harry on the situation. "Milord, the southern flank with General Rotan is almost entirely cut off. He is rallying our forces to make a stand and cover our retreat, but without our heavy weapons it's only a matter of time before they are surrounded. I do not know the status of the other units, but it is likely that the northern flank is also facing heavy opposition. Their cannons are the only ones still firing."
Glancing over the area, Harry realized that the soldier was right. He could tell Hiscophney's troops were preparing to fall back; a regiment of ice soldiers was hauling the large cannons they had brought into the hall behind them. Once the center pulled back to reconnect with the south, that would leave the northern section in a similar predicament. "Lord Silver, please order your men to concentrate their attacks on clearing a path for our southern flank. We need to clear a path for them to reform the battle line with the other sections."
"As you wish." The goblin looked up and bellowed a few orders in his native tongue, before grabbing on to the rope and being hauled back up to his ship.
Harry looked at Lord Gold. "Please take your soldiers and cover the retreat of the northern flank. We need to keep our frontlines together while they pull back. Since you have the high ground, I leave command of the battle to you. Please locate General Rotan and Count Hiscophney as soon as you can. You three will be in command of the battle."
"What about you, Lord Polairix?"
"I need to head to Azkaban. Voldemort is there. The attack on the Ministry was a diversion. He's after the Rod of Dominion." Harry's eyes narrowed. "We need to get rid of those Dementors up in the air."
A soft pop next to him alerted Harry to the new arrival. Luna Lovegood smiled at him with her usual vacant smile, but he could see in her eyes that she was anything but absent. "We can take care of them, Harry," she said in a strangely melodious tone.
"Luna? But-"
"It is our battle, as well, Harry."
He looked at her helplessly for a moment, before nodding. "All right, but if any of you get killed…" he didn't need to say anything more. Luna understood. If any of the students died, he would never forgive himself. Her smile almost faltered as she realized that it would be inevitable in the chaotic battle, but she and Neville had realized that it was necessary for them to come, after they had spotted the wave of Dementors flying overhead. To keep everyone safe, they had agreed to use portkeys to transport Legion members - all of whom had volunteered - to locations that they deemed safe enough to cast a Patronus from.
"Look," Luna said, pointing up where dozens of silvery shields had just sprung up from where the members of Potter's Legion had cast their spells, effectively halting the Dementors' advance on Harry's position.
Harry looked at Lord Gold. "Tell your airships to clear the area immediately above me. I've got an idea." He looked down at his ivory wand, remembering the rush of power that had gone through him when he had cast the Patronus before.
The goblin nodded, belting out his orders. "I shall take my leave and assist the northern flank, as you ordered. I pray for your safe return and victory, Lord Polairix."
"And the same to you, Lord Gold. And all of your people."
The goblin nodded graciously, before his airship took off, spitting fire from its belly-mounted cannons. A few minutes later, the airspace above Harry was clear of airships. A mental command had all friendly Dementors withdraw to a safe distance, as well, and Harry suddenly found himself back under the immense pressure of a thousand Dementors as they closed in with him. He raised his wand, summoning all the strength he had.
" Expecto Patronum !" he shouted, and once more a brilliant beam of light speared from his wand into the mass of Dementors above. Dozens of creatures shrieked as they disintegrated when the beam expanded to several feet in diameter. Elation swept through Harry as he realized his crazy plan worked. Sweeping his wand through the air, he cut through the Dementors' ranks, decimating the creatures. When the beam faded, Harry collapsed to the ground, winded, but the skies were clear. A cheer went up all around him when the fighters realized that the oppressive mental pressure from the dark creatures was gone; the few stragglers that were left were easily held at bay by the Legion members and wizards that were present.
"In the name of the Queen," the ice soldier whispered in awe.
Luna quickly leaned down and pulled a flask from her belt, handing it to Harry. "A Pepper-up potion," she explained. "We figured we might need them if this battle goes on for a while."
The young lord of Polairix took the flask, gulping down the potion almost greedily. Within moments, he could feel his energy return, though he knew it was only temporarily. "My wand… where's my wand?"
"Over here, milord!" the soldier pointed out.
Harry walked over and picked it up, dropping it almost instantly again when the searing hot wood touched his skin. Smoke was wafting off the wand's tip as it lay smoldering on the marble floor. Drawing his black ash wand, Harry cast a quick cooling charm on it, before picking it up. He held it in his hands for a moment, looking at the wand crafter's creation in awe.
"I didn't think it was actually possible," he whispered. Then he realized something. "Azkaban! I need to get to Azkaban!"
"Go, Harry," Luna encouraged. "We can handle things here." She waved her hand towards the frontlines. The battle was still fierce; the Ice people's artillery on the north flank was still spitting fire, and the goblin airships were raining down death from above, while goblin soldiers were leaping from enemy to enemy, displaying surprising agility as they slit throats, stabbed, and clubbed their opponents to death. Spells were erupting anywhere where wizards or sorcerers clashed with Voldemort's dark forces, and a renewed battlecry echoed from the southern flank as Lord Silver's goblins relieved the Rotan's struggling company.
Sorcerers, Ice people, wizards, and goblins were fighting alongside a common evil. And for the first time since the battle had begun, Harry started to believe that Luna was right. They would handle things here. He had a date with the strongest dark wizard in centuries. "Take care," he told Luna, pulling the surprised girl into a hug. Turning to the soldier, he said, "make sure the Legion members have extra protection. Pull them all the way back inside if you have to. Understand?"
"Yes, milord!" The ice soldier replied with a smile, understanding why Harry had given the order. It wasn't so much because Harry wanted to save his friends at the expense of someone else's life - it was because they were children and teenagers, young adults of a new generation. A generation that was willing to fight for what they believed in, and Harry wanted to protect that. The soldier found himself agreeing.
Stepping back, Harry saluted the soldier. "Tell General Rotan and Count Hiscophney I expect this place to still be standing when I come back. I've got a dark idiot to kill."
Before the soldier could return the salute, Harry had already apparated to the fortress island of Azkaban.