Bellatrix went for Tonks first — the specific targeting of someone who had done her homework, who knew the pairings, who was going for the people she considered capable before they could organise. The curse was non-verbal, a streak of violet that Tonks deflected with a Shield that had showed the battle instincts of someone who had been an Auror for long enough that the Shield was not a thought but a reflex.
Then everything happened simultaneously.
Moody took on Rookwood and Nott together, which was the specific tactical decision of someone who had assessed that the alternative was allowing either of them to move freely, and who had concluded that managing two was preferable to the alternative. The magical eye was rotating continuously, tracking everything in the Hall at once, and the spells he cast had the quality of decades of practice — not flashy, not dramatic, but precise and fast and positioned so that each one created a problem for the next one, the specific quality of someone who thought in sequences rather than individual casts.
Stupefy — deflected by Rookwood's Shield. Diffindo — caught Nott on the left shoulder, not disabling but disrupting. Bombarda — at the floor between them, the concussive effect forcing both back.
The space opened. Moody moved into it.
Tonks had Bellatrix fully engaged, which was the right tactical outcome even though it was the most dangerous single combat in the Hall. Bellatrix fought the way she had always fought — with the specific quality of someone for whom the line between combat and pleasure had been crossed long ago, for whom the violence was the point rather than the means. She cast in bursts, not sequences, the unpredictability of someone who was not following a plan but was following an instinct. Tonks matched her with the quality of someone who had trained specifically for this — the Auror training's defensive emphasis, the Shield work that held under the specific pressure of Bellatrix's casts, the constant movement that denied Bellatrix a static target.
Crucio — Tonks sidestepped, the curse catching the fountain and sending a spray of enchanted water across the floor. Sectumsempra — Shield, the rebound sending splinters of spell-light across the ceiling. Avada Kedavra — Tonks dropped and rolled, the green light passing over her and hitting the far wall with the specific silent impact of the killing curse meeting stone.
She was up before Bellatrix had begun the next cast. She sent three Stunners in sequence at angles that required Bellatrix to move in a specific direction to avoid all three — and Bellatrix moved in that direction, which was where Tonks had positioned the next thing.
His parents were working together with the quality of people who had been fighting side by side for so long that the coordination was not communication but something closer to instinct. His father took the left side, while his mother took the right, moving through the Death Eaters who had not yet found a specific engagement with the specific purpose of disrupting any pairing or grouping before it could organise. Their spells were not the heavy combat magic — not the ones that ended things — but the specific lighter work of people who were forcing movement, forcing response, creating the conditions where the heavier work could land.
Impedimenta — one of the masked Death Eaters stumbled, losing the momentum of his approach. Expelliarmus — a second Death Eater's wand skittered across the marble floor.
Kingsley had engaged Dolohov with the quality of someone who had specifically prepared for Dolohov — who had been briefed, who knew the specific curse that Dolohov used that most people didn't recognise until it had already landed. He was keeping distance, which was the correct tactical choice, using the space of the atrium to deny Dolohov the close-range advantage he preferred.
Dolohov's curse — the strange purple flame, cast non-verbally — Kingsley deflected with a Shield that was not the standard Shield but the specific reinforced version that Ron had taught the Order in a session with Dumbledore in March.
The reinforced Shield held.
Kingsley moved forward.
Stupefy — blocked. Reducto — the marble floor between Dolohov's feet exploded, fragments flying, Dolohov staggering. Incarcerous — the ropes caught him mid-stagger. He went down.
Sirius had gone for the two remaining unengaged Death Eaters on the right flank — the ones who had been moving to circle behind Tonks while she was occupied with Bellatrix. He fought the way Ron had always suspected he fought: without much visible thought, the specific quality of someone for whom the magic and the decision had never had much distance between them. Not reckless — that was the wrong word for it. Fluent. Stupefy — redirected off the first Death Eater's Shield and into the second's blind side. Incarcerous — the ropes caught the first before he could recover the redirect. The two of them went down in the specific efficient sequence of someone who had mapped the engagement in the first second and was implementing the map.
Remus was at the left edge of the Hall, working with the specific patient quality that was his in everything — not Sirius's fluency, but something that arrived at the same destination through a different route. He had taken on one Death Eater and was managing him in the way of someone who was not trying to end the engagement quickly but to occupy it, to keep it contained and directed, which was its own tactical contribution in a space where a disengaged Death Eater could become someone else's problem. His Shield work was the best in the room outside Ron's own — the specific depth of someone who had spent years in dangerous situations with limited recourse and had developed, from that limitation, the most efficient defensive casting Ron had seen outside of a formal training context.
Ron was moving through the middle of the Hall.
He was not engaging the Death Eaters actively but with spells to cause chaos without bringing notice to himself. He was moving toward the specific position he needed to be in, the position he had been calculating since the briefing in Dumbledore's office, the position from which the specific work of the evening could be done correctly.
He was keeping one part of his awareness on Harry at all times.
Harry was at the edge of the engagement, moving with the quality he had developed across the year — the combat instincts given a framework, the specific situational awareness of someone who was fully present in a moving space. He had taken on two of the unnamed Death Eaters immediately, with the efficiency of someone for whom the work was not unfamiliar. The first had gone down to a Stunner so fast and precisely aimed that the Death Eater had not completed his first cast. The second was more capable — older, the quality of someone who had been doing this since before Harry was born — and Harry was not trying to overpower him but to move him, to position him, the specific patience of someone who had learned that patience in combat was a weapon.
Expelliarmus — Harry, deflected. Protego — Harry, holding, the Shield catching a Cutting Curse. Stupefy — Harry, feinting right, the Stunner landing on the Death Eater's wand arm from an angle that the feint had opened.
The Death Eater's wand arm dropped. The next Stunner was not deflected.
Harry was moving before the body had settled.
He caught Ron's eye across the Hall. Ron looked at his robes pocket. Harry put his hand there, briefly, confirming: the Cup was present.
Ron nodded once.