Chapter 577: Individual Battles
Chapter 577: Individual Battles
The outskirts of Hogsmeade still bore the scars of the great battle, and Voldemort took a moment to reminisce.
Although he had escaped last time, he had faced off against two of the world's top wizards, one after another. As a result, the threat Voldemort posed was now taken much more seriously by Ministries of Magic around the globe.
With the former Headmaster of Ilvermorny School as a cautionary tale, no one dared to underestimate the dark force entrenched in Britain. The final battle from half a century ago was frequently mentioned, and many newspapers had openly started referring to him as the 'Second Dark Lord.'
Voldemort strolled through the streets of Hogsmeade, searching for his target.
He needed a place, not a mushy lovers' tea shop, nor a noisy owl post office filled with bird droppings. He saw the Three Broomsticks Inn in the distance and weighed his options. Then, he noticed a deep, dark alley.
Memories from long ago were stirred, and with a hint of melancholy, he entered the alley, stopping in front of a small bar.
Everything here seemed unchanged—the shabby wooden sign, the rusted bracket that held it, swaying in the wind. The rough calls for drinks drifted out through the grimy, bulging windows.
"Hey!"
Voldemort pushed open the door of the Hog's Head Inn, bringing the cold February night air inside. The scene before him was familiar: a dozen or so guests, their heads hidden, sat in the bar, wearing veils and hoods as if it were the latest fashion.
A quick glance was enough for him to determine that at least three tables were engaged in illegal transactions.
The bartender was pushing a cup of blue-flaming drink towards a hooded figure. The bartender, Aberforth, continued to wipe a glass, then looked up casually. His movements suddenly froze.
The sound of a shattering glass caught the attention of the other patrons. They glanced at Aberforth, then their wary gazes turned to Voldemort.
"Hiss~"
A terrible intake of breath. The temperature in the small, dirty, dimly lit room seemed to drop to freezing.
"Th-the Dark Lord!" a wizard by the fireplace called out.
He was wrapped in bloodied bandages, an outfit that would hardly be welcome at the nearby Three Broomsticks, but he could walk into the Hog's Head without issue. This was one of the reasons the small bar had managed to stay in business.
The wizard stumbled to his feet, knocking over his table in the process. He drew his wand—not to attack, but to Apparate.
A green flash, and he fell stiffly to the ground, his wide, bulging eyes revealing his final moments of panic.
Voldemort lazily raised his wand in a mock salute. "I intend to entertain a guest, so I hope you can lend a hand, everyone."
For a moment, the air in the bar seemed to freeze.
A thin, young wizard with dark circles under his eyes, suspected to be a vampire, shrieked, "He wants to kill everyone!" Voldemort's gaze slowly shifted, and a smirk appeared on his lips. He raised his wand, and the peculiar guests in the Hog's Head fell like wheat—
The resistance began, and the slaughter commenced.
Another tried to Apparate but was strangled by a shadow that emerged from the darkness. Desperate cries and spells casting faint glows were confined within the dim bar, leaving no one a chance to escape.
In less than a minute, only three people remained.
Aberforth summoned a Patronus, intending to spread the news of Voldemort's arrival. The corporeal goat Patronus passed through the walls and vanished in an instant. After the slaughter, Voldemort calmed down and stared intently at the face that so closely resembled Dumbledore's.
If it were just a resemblance, he would not have cared and would have killed him without a second thought. But Aberforth was not weak; he was far above the average wizard in skill, and his resistance was exceptionally strong, causing Voldemort some trouble—trivial, but enough to make him view Aberforth differently.
For Voldemort, who was obsessed with the power of blood, Aberforth's strength and resemblance to Dumbledore were significant. He stared at the bright blue eyes behind Aberforth's dirty glasses, the eyes that blazed with anger, and the metallic gray hair and beard, finding the resemblance increasingly striking.
Memories of his failed job application decades ago flooded back:
He was ambitious, planning to expand his influence across the entire magical world. He chose the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts professor as his stepping stone, but his plans were cut short before they even began. Dumbledore mercilessly rejected him, pointing out the embarrassing fact that his servants were staying at the Hog's Head.
He remembered Dumbledore admitting that he had a good relationship with the local barman...
"So that's how it is." Voldemort smiled, a wicked expression on his face. He waved his arms, and two more wizards fell, leaving only Aberforth.
Aberforth's face was grim. He knew there was no escape now. There had been a glimmer of hope earlier, but he had insisted on a confrontation. It turned out to be a grave mistake; he was no match for Voldemort. Now, he was the last one standing, and apparating away in front of Voldemort was nearly impossible.
"Who is Dumbledore to you?" Voldemort asked softly.
"Spit!" Aberforth spat on the ground, the saliva mixing with the blood trickling down his chin. He raised his wand.
The battle ended quickly.
Despite all evidence suggesting that Aberforth had put up a fierce resistance, and despite half of the Hog's Head Inn being reduced to rubble, Voldemort emerged victorious with ease. He waved his yew wand leisurely, and several snake-like ropes shot out from the tip, binding Aberforth tightly.
Aberforth was suspended upside down from the crumbling ceiling.
Voldemort was thoroughly satisfied. He strolled in front of Aberforth, watching him struggle. He casually summoned a bottle of wine and a glass from the bar shelf, but both were too dirty, so he disdainfully discarded them. He asked in a near whisper, "Can you speak now? Who is Dumbledore to you? A relative, or perhaps a brother?"
"You... sheep dung... scum..." Aberforth spat out a few disjointed words, none of them pleasant.
"You need to learn to respect the strong. Hasn't anyone taught you that? Or are you illiterate?" Voldemort said, and with a wave of his hand, the snake-like ropes tightened around Aberforth's neck. He spoke calmly, "Cruciatus Curse—"
A muffled scream of agony echoed.
"I hope you can hold on until Dumbledore comes to save you."
Compared to the tragedy at the Hog's Head Inn, Gringotts in Diagon Alley was like a blazing sword, drawing the attention of everyone. The sharp blade pointed skyward, billowing black smoke. A dozen cloaked Wizards in dark robes continuously fueled the fire, and the falling debris from Gringotts created burning craters on the ground.
The Aurors stationed in Diagon Alley were engaged in fierce combat with the dark-robed Wizards.
"Damn it, they're using Fiendfyre! Do they want to destroy this place entirely?" An Auror hiding behind Ollivander's display window suddenly extended his arm and cast a few spells, knocking down an advancing enemy.
But Holt's heart sank. He didn't know what was happening at the Ministry, but it had been five minutes since the distress signal was sent, and no reinforcements had arrived. Currently, Diagon Alley had only two emergency squads, which were sufficient for routine patrols, but they were woefully inadequate against the sudden attack.
Before long, they were forced to abandon the public Floo Network in Diagon Alley and fight in the streets and alleys.
With a few loud explosions, Holt knew that the historic Floo Network had been blown to pieces. Reinforcements were unlikely to arrive anytime soon.
He panted, gazing at the distant Gringotts. The magical building seemed to be teetering on the brink of collapse. He hoped there weren't too many people inside, perhaps they had already apparated away. Suddenly, he rubbed his eyes, suspecting his vision was playing tricks on him.
A figure appeared silently at the entrance of Gringotts, looking up at the blazing torch.
In the flickering firelight, Holt saw the side profile of the person: short black hair, blue eyes, and a tall, slender build. Holt wanted to shout, but he was too far away. Then he witnessed a breathtaking scene. The surrounding Fiendfyre spontaneously gathered into the person's hand, forming the shape of a sword. With a flash of fire, a Dark Wizard standing nearby was pierced through the chest by the fiery sword. In the next second, a burst of fire erupted from the Dark Wizard's body, turning him into charred remains in an instant.
Holt was rooted to the spot, unable to move. Suddenly, a spell shot from a corner, but it missed and hit the display window, cleanly slicing through the metal bars. He quickly ducked and blindly cast a few spells, knowing they wouldn't hit anyone.
"Boy, get in here! Hurry!" a voice called from above. Holt looked up and saw the white-haired Ollivander waving at him through the window.
Holt nearly dropped his jaw. Hadn't the old man gone on vacation abroad? He scrambled into the shop, and the door slammed shut. He asked urgently, "You're really Mr. Ollivander?"
"The real deal", Ollivander said from behind a pile of old boxes, keeping an eye on the outside.
"But you weren't—"
"That was a false rumor, a lie. I've been hiding in the basement of the shop", Ollivander grumbled. "I had to do it. Many wandmakers have suffered, and I didn't want to disappear like Gregorovitch... The Ministry of Magic only has a few of you? Why are there more Death Eaters?"
"Right now, Diagon Alley only has two squads, and the Floo Network has been destroyed", Holt explained. "But, a turning point has arrived."
“How come I didn’t see it?” Ollivander whispered.
The shouting outside suddenly diminished. Felix glanced into the hall, which was in chaos but devoid of bodies. Remus and a dozen staff members were being protected by a group of towering, muscular Aurors, engaging in battle with over twenty Dark Wizards.
These large puppets were covered in a wavelike, watery light. Ordinary spells had no effect on them. It was more accurate to say that Remus and his team were holding the enemy at bay.
Moreover, the employees were fully equipped with a complete set of anti-curse products.
Felix turned and appeared in the air, spreading out the Book of Runic Script. He unleashed black lightning bolts that struck the ground below. Within seconds, the enemies outside Gringotts were cleared away. He walked into the Gringotts hall, where the battle was still raging. The Dark Wizards hadn’t noticed Felix’s arrival, or rather, the guards outside hadn’t had time to alert them.
“Can we retreat?” one Dark Wizard shouted. “We can’t get in! Those stone lumps are too solid, harder than metal!”
“No! We must wait for that person,” another replied, clearly of higher rank, seemingly the leader.
Felix also noticed this individual and quickly found the corresponding name on the list of Death Eaters. “Lestrange...” a member of the Lestrange family. “Were you waiting for me?” He stepped into the battlefield, his fingers slicing through the air, releasing a cloud of black smoke.
“It’s Felix Hep! He’s here, quick, get out!”
Someone shouted, and they began to Apparate, but it was too late. Felix couldn’t find Bellatrix Lestrange among them, which left him slightly disappointed, though it wasn’t part of the plan. Voldemort hadn’t been cornered yet, and there was no greater incentive to separate him from the last Horcrux.
With another wave of his hand, the hall was covered in a silver glow. In the blink of an eye, they seemed to be transported to a completely unfamiliar place. Before they could react, a wave of golden fire filled this special space.
They were burned to ashes in the mental realm.
In reality, the Dark Wizards’ eyes glazed over, their bodies stiffening, and their eyes involuntarily rolling up. Penelope took the opportunity to stun two of them before noticing something was amiss.
“What is this?”
Creevey pointed at Felix, and Penelope suddenly understood, her face lighting up with surprise. She stared at the Dark Wizards, who had just emerged from their special state. “Quick—” one of them shouted, but before he could finish, their bodies stiffened again, as if struck by an invisible hammer to the back of the head.
The others in Gringotts stopped fighting. The Dark Wizards staggered a few steps and then fell in unison.
Felix found the ‘Lestrange,’ knelt down, and opened the man’s eyes. Staring into them, the ‘Lestrange’s’ eyes magically turned silver-gray. After a moment, Felix stood up.
He waved his wand, and the Fiendfyre burning inside and outside Gringotts converged on him. The tip of his wand seemed to contain a black hole, drawing in the flames with infinite force. The Fiendfyre, which had taken the form of various animals on the buildings, was torn apart and eventually gathered into a small ball.
Felix gently plucked it out and held it in his hand, as if he were holding a warm glass orb.
“Felix,” Remus approached. “What about these people...”
“Lock them up for now. The Ministry of Magic doesn’t have the time to send someone to take them away. How did things go on your end? Any casualties?” Felix asked softly.
“No casualties,” Remus panted, looking at the people lying on the ground, a smile involuntarily spreading across his face. “The attack happened after work hours, and most people had already left. I gathered the remaining staff and avoided the first wave of attacks. Then I activated the puppet guardians, and the employees who weren’t skilled in combat left through the fireplaces. It took some time, but the volunteers who stayed to defend the company followed the puppet guardians to the hall, where they encountered these people.”
“To be honest, the enemy’s strength...” he frowned, “was different from what I expected. They seemed to be a hastily assembled group, with only a few skilled fighters. We could have been more aggressive, but I didn’t. Penelope and the others aren’t fighters.”
“You’re right,” Felix nodded. “Voldemort’s power isn’t enough to fight Hogwarts, Future World Company, and the Ministry of Magic simultaneously. I glanced at their memories. They consist of a few Death Eaters and Dark Wizards they coerced or threatened into joining. Their mission was to create as much chaos as possible. I suspect the situation at the Ministry of Magic is similar.”
“Then there will be fewer casualties,” Remus analyzed. “What about the school?”
“Hmm, everything was peaceful when I left, but who knows now...”
“Get back there quickly! I can handle this. I promise, everything will be back to normal when you return.” Remus said rapidly.
Felix smiled lightly and took a step forward. The scene before him changed rapidly—
At Hogwarts, Frank and Alice, disguised as students, were holding the Marauder's Map, staring at the name 'Avery' on it. Suddenly, a series of chaotic footsteps echoed from the spiral staircase. The two exchanged glances and looked down at the map, where a string of additional student names had appeared.
After getting their brooms, these students dispersed to various entrances of the school. Ron, Hermione, Neville, Fred, and George Weasley, along with a few others, rushed to the castle gates, only to find them locked. Filch was standing guard at the entrance.
"By the order of Deputy Headmistress Mcgonagall, no student is allowed to leave the castle", Filch said sternly.
"Oh, come on", Hermione said, "We want to help, and we are capable of it. The professors are right behind this door, aren't they? Mr. Filch, we can't let them fight alone. Their opponents are shades, Dementors, werewolves, vampires, or something else..."
"He won't budge", Fred said angrily, "I should give him a—"
But Filch hesitated for a moment and then stepped aside.
"Thank you, Mr. Filch", Hermione said gratefully. She pointed her wand, and the gates opened silently. In the distance, they could hear the professors casting spells. "They should be on the stone steps, yes, that's right!"
One by one, they stepped out of the oak gates. Filch grabbed Mafalda, who looked bewildered, not knowing why she was there. She was as confused as Luna, who stood beside her. "You can't go! You're too young..." Filch said, his eyes bulging. He stared at Mafalda, hesitating, "You, you're a first-year? What's your name?"
Mafalda turned to Luna and pointed, "I don't know, ask her!"
"What's going on?" Ron said, exasperated. He had just been about to mount his broom when the unexpected situation occurred. Seeing Mafalda, he took a sharp breath, "Why are you here?"
Filch and Mafalda looked at Luna, and Ron stiffly turned his head, praying he wouldn't hear a ridiculous answer. Luna said cheerfully, "Didn't I wave to you earlier? I was there—"
"You found Mafalda behind that door?" Ron exclaimed, recalling what had happened earlier. Luna had tried to open a door at the time.
"Yes, I saw her go in with Umbridge. A short while later, only she came out and locked the door from the outside. I thought it was strange, so I knocked, but there was no response. Later, I realized it wasn't Umbridge..." Luna spread her hands.
"You fool, Luna, it's obvious Umbridge used Polyjuice Potion!" Ron shouted at her.
"Don't you shout at her!" Mafalda yelled.
"Stop causing trouble!" Ron shouted back.
He roughly pushed Mafalda into Filch's hands, as if she were a piece of trash, "Um... Excuse me, cough, keep an eye on her, don't let her run off."
"Ron!" someone called from a distance.
"Oh, no, I have to go help Harry", Ron said, jogging to the platform outside the gates, and joined the twins and Neville on their brooms.
Just then, another voice sounded behind them—
"Wait!" Alice panted as she ran up. "You— shouldn't—go out— it's too dangerous—"
"Is there no end to this? Who is this now—" Fred said irritably, looking like he wanted to punch someone. Hermione saw Alice's face and gasped, pulling on his sleeve so hard she almost yanked him off his broom. "Ouch! Hermione, what are you doing?" "She's Neville's mom..." Hermione whispered, and Fred was taken aback.
"Does Neville know?" Fred asked in a low voice, while George tried to eavesdrop but was pushed back. Hermione shook her head.
Alice Longbottom stared at Neville, "You're still too young—"
"We're not that young anymore", Neville said, his gaze fixed on the distance, where Harry had been for about seven or eight minutes. He said firmly, "You can choose to stay in the castle. I choose to help Harry. It's normal."
"No, I mean, they'll be fine. You just need to stay safe in the castle. The adults will handle everything, children—" Alice said urgently, grabbing Neville's hand, "Think about your parents!"
"I'm sorry", Neville said, "They would be proud of me." He gave Alice a deep look and pushed off with his feet, flying into the sky.
Fred gave him a thumbs-up. He, George, and Ron flew toward Hagrid's Hut.
(End of Chapter)
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