Chapter 190. The Battle. Part 2. Cornered.
The turn of events shook what was left of the Black Star, but they needed only a few seconds to regroup. The same couldn't be said for most of the alliance's wizards; several still hadn't gotten up and were struggling to steady themselves.
Their opponents took immediate advantage of the situation, abandoning their injured comrades and moving out of the building to take up positions a few meters from the breach in the barrier. From there, they launched an attack on the light wizards before anyone had fully recovered.
The Aurors, however, hadn't earned their reputation for nothing. Though slightly slow off the mark, the majority were back on their feet, and by the time the assault hit, they were ready. The second round began: close-quarters, direct confrontation.
A massive column of flame, conjured simultaneously by several staff-wielding wizards, surged toward the fighters. The Aurors answered in unison, sweeping their wands in circular arcs:
"Aguamenti Maxima!" Powerful jets of water burst from their wands, merging into a single wave several meters away. A moment later, they collided with the fire, generating enormous quantities of steam that began filling the half-demolished dome above the building.
"Risu!" shouted another wizard in Auror uniform, and the steam began to disperse visibly before him. In the same instant, his smiling head rolled off his shoulders.
The enemy who had cast the killing curse didn't even have time to savor the moment before an invisible force swept him off his feet and sent him skidding backward several meters, leaving him unconscious.
Almost no one noticed, except the few who had been standing closest to the headless Auror and had seen it firsthand. By that point, the collapse of the barrier had made the battle far more savage, and the death toll had multiplied several times over.
Within seconds, the Death Eaters joined the battle, materializing from dark smoke with their characteristic theatrics and plunging directly into the thick of the fighting inside the second barrier, the one that had protected the building itself.
The gang members followed, taking the more direct route and simply entering through the breach.
The alliance held a significant numerical advantage, but the Black Star's fighters operated with far greater coordination and precision. The alliance, by contrast, was fractured. Its different factions frequently clashed with each other, which repeatedly cost them the initiative. That was partly why the Black Star was still holding out under pressure, and magic also played a role. The English wizards spoke every incantation aloud, making their spells entirely predictable. The staff-wielding wizards cast in silence, making it impossible to anticipate what they would use next.
The battle had turned truly terrible. Someone died every second, yet the alliance gradually pushed the Steel Division back. Sheer numbers made it inevitable.
Attempts to destroy the building itself, from which new enemies kept emerging, met with little success. Whenever anyone managed to cast a spell at the structure, an air ward would instantly appear, blocking it.
Neither Albus, who stood near the Minister, nor Voldemort had entered the battle yet. They kept their distance, watching in silence, never taking their eyes off each other.
Even Riddle's earlier satisfaction had vanished. His servants had suffered few casualties at first, but now they were falling one after another, and he took no satisfaction in that. His expression had turned truly grim. Afterward, he would still need the remaining Death Eaters to oppose the Ministry, and only the fact that the other side was dying in far greater numbers kept him there. His pride and vanity played their part too, of course.
Harold looked equally grim as he watched, but he understood nothing could be done. The only direction was forward, to finish it. They had lost far too much to pull back now.
Severus watched the battle calmly, sighing inwardly.
*I thought I'd done so much to improve the odds of survival for wizards, given how few of us there are in the world, and yet here they are, killing each other.*
On one of the screens, not far from where Lucius was positioned behind the first barrier, a man in a leather jacket was impaled through the chest by three icicles and died instantly. Lucius's face grew even paler.
"I never thought that after Grindelwald fell, something like this would ever happen again," Eileen murmured with a bitter smile. In her youth, she had read everything she could find about the clash between light and darkness, between Albus Dumbledore and Gellert Grindelwald, which Albus won in late 1945.
But aside from those two, countless other wizards from across Europe had taken part in that war, and even then, wizards had not died on the scale she was witnessing now. More often than not, those who opposed Grindelwald were imprisoned rather than killed, though the same could not be said for the Muggles.
Severus gave a slow nod. He too had read a great deal about him. Aside from Albus, Grindelwald was also on his list of targets, since a talent like that was simply too valuable to exclude from the coming war against the Devils.
*Perhaps it's for the best.*
Britain has been drowning in politics and aristocratic posturing for too long. It has barely progressed since the 19th century, and the magical strength of its wizards has steadily declined. Without Albus and Tom, someone like the Black Star would have taken over this country long ago. Let this be a lesson for them: Britain's wizards have grown so weak that a single enemy can match two or three of them combined. The seriousness of his tone made Eileen pause, but after a moment she found herself reluctantly agreeing.
"It's possible that without Voldemort's constant pressure forcing the country to develop combat strength, it would have quietly rotted away, and the Black Star would have already consumed it from within." He shifted from the broad overview to consider Albus's position, since Albus had taken higher ground to watch the battle while keeping an eye on Tom. *Hmm, Dumbledore. It seems I've been underestimating him.* Even so, far too many people have died today.
"I won't argue with you. But if this doesn't serve as a lesson to them, this country doesn't deserve to survive. It's past time to move beyond idiotic rules and prejudices like blood purity. The swamp known as Magical Britain isn't the only swamp in the world. There are swamps considerably larger and deeper."
"Severus!" She gave him a reproving look the moment he brought up blood purity. She wasn't a fervent ideologue on the subject, but she wasn't entirely free of those beliefs either. Her father had raised her, and had he still been alive, he would almost certainly have been standing alongside Voldemort.
"Right, then." He rubbed his hands together and fixed her with a thoughtful gaze. "It seems that besides the Blacks, I'll also have to act as your therapist and knock that nonsense out of your head."
"It isn't nonsense!"
"That's precisely what we'll discuss once the battle is over, and we'll need to visit the site in person. I'm certain that with a concentration of death energy this large, it should be more than enough to push your core to the mid-level Master." He smiled as he spoke, meeting her distinctly unamused expression. The first part of his sentence hadn't gone over well.
He turned back to the screen and narrowed his eyes at two familiar wizards near the building: one with a slight bald patch, the other with short, close-cropped green hair. Charles and Robert, the last Masters of the Steel Division.
*Hmm. If they've come personally, they have almost nothing left. Which is probably for the best.*
Charles slowly raised his staff and drove it into the ground. A shockwave of immense force erupted outward, sweeping across the entire battlefield in an instant, hurling every member of the alliance backward.
Only a handful remained standing after the impact. Among them was Albus, who had noticed the unfamiliar figures in time to raise a barrier. He lowered his wand and said:
"Harold, I'll deal with them. They're no less powerful than the wizard who defeated Moody." His voice was grim, and the Minister gave a dark nod, glancing sideways at Voldemort.
"Understood. Don't worry about me. I have enough protection, and I doubt he'll try anything against me right now."
Charles's appearance at least sparked a flicker of life in the eyes of the exhausted Black Star fighters. They immediately pressed the still-recovering alliance members, giving them no time to regroup.
Charles, watching this, snorted indifferently and struck the ground with his staff again. A crushing pressure descended across the entire battlefield, driving enemy wizards into the ground.
"Risu!" In the next instant, the pressure vanished entirely, and Dumbledore stood before the two wizards with his wand drawn, while about a dozen Aurors took up positions behind him.
The battle slowed for a moment. Every pair of eyes on the field turned toward them.
Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore. Charles let out a tired sigh and tightened his grip on his staff. "You were the last person I wanted to face today."
"If you don't want to fight, then surrender. We'll spare you and your people." Dumbledore clasped his hands behind his back and regarded the man with a watchful expression. *So young and already so powerful. ihiros was right. I've become complacent.*
"Perhaps you should be the one to surrender."
"We outnumber you six to one. You'll simply be overwhelmed. Think carefully. I'd prefer to avoid further casualties."
"Don't mistake that riffraff behind you for genuine opposition. Even if we lose, we'll take at least half of you with us." He lifted his chin disdainfully and looked down his nose at Dumbledore. Unfortunately, Dumbledore was slightly taller, which made the scene feel oddly comical.
"Then a peaceful resolution is off the table."
"By 'peaceful,' you mean we surrender and spend the rest of our lives in Azkaban, at best?" Robert gave him an amused look, deliberately stalling.
"You started this. What did you expect after what you did four days ago? That we'd simply let you walk away?"
"We would have had no objection to that outcome." At those words, many alliance members flushed with rage. They had joined this fight solely for vengeance, and they were barely holding back from attacking the arrogant bastard outright.
"We would also have been glad if you had left the country before that incident." But Dumbledore didn't finish his sentence. The next moment, cracks began to spread across the barrier surrounding the building.
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