Malfoy could scarcely believe his eyes. Was he dreaming? How else could he explain the impossible scene unfolding before him? Harry, standing tall in the minecart, wielding the Gryffindor Sword, cleaving raging dragonfire in two with that gleaming blade!
"Merlin's beard! Harry, you absolute legend!" Malfoy, having narrowly escaped death yet again, felt a surge of manic elation.
Hearing the praise, Harry forced a grim smile. This was no easy feat. They were facing a fully grown dragon, and its fire was beyond anything he could easily deflect. The sword could withstand the heat, but his hands...
If Malfoy had been in front of him, he'd have seen the truth: Harry's hands were already charred and blistered. He had one strike left, maybe.
And it might not even be enough... Harry thought, his voice strained as he shouted, "Malfoy, faster!"
Malfoy understood the gravity of the situation, spurring the minecart onward, pushing it to its absolute limit!
The Ukrainian Ironbelly was gaining on them.
Harry's worst fears were coming to pass. They would never reach the surface before the dragon unleashed another devastating wave of fire.
...
Dark, oppressive clouds choked the sky, blurring the line between night and day. Torrents of rain hammered London, casting a pall over everything, including Diagon Alley.
Inside Gringotts, long since closed for the day, lights still blazed.
BOOM!!!
Crimson flames erupted, shattering the fragile facade of the uniquely shaped building! Two figures, burned beyond recognition, stumbled out of the inferno, pursued by a pack of fierce, murderous goblins.
Splash... splash...
Harry staggered through the flooded street. The cool rain offered a scant measure of relief from the agony of his burns. His body was failing, his Animagus transformation forcibly undone by the dragonfire's aftershocks. Only his dwindling willpower kept him from oblivion.
Malfoy was in similar straits. Beneath his often cowardly demeanor, he was, as he'd declared, a survivor. To collapse now would be an unacceptable defeat.
But even the strongest will required a body to support it. His leg muscles were cooked, useless. How much further could he possibly run?
Despite the burning resentment churning inside him, Harry could only watch as his head descended toward a murky puddle.
The cold plunge never came.
Though he lacked the strength to lift his head, Harry knew he had been caught. The unbearable tension evaporated, even as the rain continued to fall, even as the proximity to another body intensified the fire in his burns.
There was something else there, an intense reassurance, like being cradled in a mother's arms.
"..."
Severus Snape silently regarded Harry as he collapsed into his arms. He made no move to shield himself from the rain, letting it stream down his hair, across his face, and drip from his black robes into the puddles.
Behind him, beside him, filling Diagon Alley as far as the eye could see, stood countless black-robed wizards, wands drawn.
On the ground, on the rooftops, in the air... Gringotts was completely surrounded; every avenue of escape sealed.
The goblins poured out of the bank, their faces initially twisted with rage and bloodlust, which quickly transformed into stunned fear.
"...Death Eaters..."
The lead goblin's lips trembled. He wanted to speak, to explain, but the words died in his throat.
"..."
After handing the wounded Harry and Malfoy over to two Death Eaters, Snape turned back. His gaze was calm and deadly as he addressed the goblins in the rain.
His voice was level, emotionless, as if stating a simple fact: "By order of the Dark Lord, Gringotts is charged with endangering the wizarding world and plotting to usurp the Ministry of Magic's power. Therefore, an arrest warrant is hereby issued. Resistance will be met with... death."
The goblins' eyes widened in horror, their pupils shrinking to pinpricks.
Endangering the wizarding world? Usurping the Ministry? It was an absurd, baseless accusation. Even if they surrendered, they would be slaughtered.
Especially because they were guilty.
"..."
The leader goblin gritted his teeth, "Retreat to the underground! Deal with these damned..."
Before he could finish, his head, severed by an invisible blade, tumbled to the ground, his resolute expression frozen in death. The cut was so clean, it looked like it was this goblin's natural state.
"Avada Kedavra!"
Before the remaining goblins could react, a barrage of Killing Curses turned the air green. One by one, they fell, lifeless corpses collapsing into the muddy street.
"Kill them," Snape commanded, leading the charge into the charred husk of Gringotts. His black robes billowed in the rain. "All of them. Leave no one alive."
...
On this rainy night, beneath the deceptively peaceful surface of London, a massacre was underway in the labyrinthine depths of Gringotts. The Death Eaters were unleashed, their power overwhelming the desperate defenders.
Even the Ukrainian Ironbelly guarding the entrance to the underground was no match. Snape, aided by two Death Eaters who expertly contained the beast, sliced off its massive head with a single, impossibly swift strike.
Thousands of goblins filled the underworld, but the Death Eaters were too many—too skilled, too ruthless.
Axes and warhammers? A Killing Curse rendered them useless. Armored vehicles? A dozen Blasting Charms left craters the size of houses.
Unlike the goblins, whose magic was limited by their tools, the wizards were unpredictable, their attacks inescapable.
Petrificus Totalus, Binding Charms... Anything to restrict movement.
Summoning Charms stole their weapons. Levitation Charms hurled boulders down upon them. Polymorph Charms twisted the very earth, trapping vehicles, crushing formations.
Shattering Charms reduced obstacles to rubble. Blasting Charms cleared entire maps. Flashes of red and green, the telltale signs of the Unforgivable Curses, pierced the gloom. The goblins' screams went on.
Rivers of dark blood flowed, the muffled thuds of falling bodies echoed through the vast caverns, a symphony of death that thrilled the Death Eaters and terrified the goblins.
Outnumbered and outmatched, the goblins fought with desperate ferocity, but they couldn't gain an inch. The Death Eaters gave them no quarter.
These goblins' strategy amounted to nothing more than "charge!"
The Death Eaters, seasoned by years of dark missions, possessed combat experience and intuition that far surpassed them.
Under the Dark Lord's guidance, their teamwork was brutally efficient.
The goblins had no chance.
In terms of strength, the Death Eaters were far superior! When it came to fighting to the death, nobody dared question the madness these thugs possessed!
Gringotts' fate was sealed.
The bank would be utterly eradicated, consumed by the very violence it had sought to unleash upon the wizarding world. The war machines the goblins had built for rebellion were turned against them, used to complete their annihilation.
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