Albus Dumbledore was a man who had seen many things in his long life - and a lot of them were very unpleasant. He had seen every side of human existence, the good, and the bad. Heroism and cowardice. Selflessness and selfishness. The extraordinary kindness people were capable of and the extraordinary cruelty that came along with it. War was ugly by nature, and he'd resigned him to seeing people die, sometimes in a very gruesome manner. Nothing, however, had prepared him for the sight when Kingsley Shacklebolt had called him to the Ministry of Magic on urgent matters. Arthur Weasley had found a stomach-turning note left by Voldemort when he had come in to work that morning.
A message that had been written in blood. On the back of one of their Aurors, the words carved into the flesh, the man's organs strewn about him in a gruesome star-pattern. And the worst thing? His heart had still been beating when Dumbledore had arrived.
The message was simple, short, and left Dumbledore with a feeling of dread. It consisted of only two words.
Two Days .
The headmaster had rushed back to the Order headquarters and immediately called for an emergency session. Voldemort had taken the bait, and the battle would be upon them soon. Both sides knew that this was a trap, and both would throw everything they had at each other, in the hopes of completely wiping out their opposition. Dumbledore steeled himself as people started trickling in. Kingsley Shacklebolt arrived first, after having left a number of Unspeakables in charge of cleaning up the mess, followed shortly by a few other aurors. Tonks came with them, bringing the Weasley twins and Ginny with her.
In short order, a large portion of the active members of the Order of the Phoenix had assembled to the emergency call Dumbledore had sent out, almost a hundred people in all, from all parts of the country. The aging headmaster glanced around the assembled faces, some of which he knew very well, and cleared his throat.
"I apologize for calling you all here on such short notice," he began, "however, we have a situation. Most of you are aware that with the help of the current Lord Polairix, we have drafted a plan to lure Lord Voldemort into an open battle at the Ministry of Magic, so that we can destroy all of his forces and supporters at once. Until now, it was uncertain whether he had taken our bait, but not anymore." Dumbledore's face fell. "Auror Gadwell, who went missing two nights ago, was found early this morning, bearing a message from Voldemort. He will attack the Ministry in two days. The defenses are not yet all in place, and our troops not in position, hence the reason I've asked you to come here. We must-"
Before he could go on, the fireplace roared to life once again, the flames turning green and licking up angrily. Before anyone could ask what was going on, spells started flying out of the fireplace - most of them were dark curses, interspersed with the occasional green flash of the killing curse. The assembled Order members broke out into panic and rushed from the room, trying to find cover from the relentless spellfire. Finally, the barrage ceased, leaving scores of dead witches and wizards on the ground, and hooded and masked figures began pouring out of the flames.
Dumbledore's eyes widened in shock as he realized what this meant. Order headquarters had been compromised. Most of the survivors had managed to find some sort of cover, kneeling behind upturned tables or behind the doorways in the corridor. They were about to return fire, when a cold voice spoke with a distinct hiss in its tone.
"Dumbledore," Lord Voldemort drew out the name, spitting it out like an insult. "Today is the day you die. It will bring me great pleasure to finally see you on the ground, writhing in pain."
The old headmaster froze, hoping against hope that he was dreaming. "It's no matter, Tom," he finally replied after a long silence. "Even if we fall, others will take our place. There will always be those who fight for freedom."
"Like that golden boy of yours, Harry Potter?" Voldemort laughed, and Dumbledore didn't have to see him to know there was a disgusted sneer on the man's snake-like visage. "Oh, wait, I forgot… you sent him to Azkaban . I bet that went over real well. Tell me, Dumbledore, how does it feel to have sent an innocent child into that hell, hmm?"
Murmurs sprung up from the Order members who hadn't known the whole story yet, as well as from those who had still believed Harry guilty. Dumbledore ignored them, instead straightening up and looked Voldemort in the eye. "That will always be the biggest mistake I've ever made, Tom. I just thank Merlin every day the boy is who he is, because no matter what, he will stop you."
"Brave words, Dumbledore. Unfortunately, you're right, the boy just stubbornly refuses to be turned." The dark lord grinned toothily. "However, there it will also have been the last mistake you ever made. Avada Kedavra !"
"How did it go?" Hermione asked as soon as they stepped through the main gates of the fortress Nair'i'caix, where their portkey had dropped them off.
"We need the old man's help," Harry growled. "There's some wards we've never seen before. Is the headquarters still at Number 12, Grimmauld?"
The brunette girl nodded as they headed for the fireplace, Snape, Bella, Neville, and Luna behind them. "Did you find it?"
"We found it, all right," Snape replied. "Behind some kind of shield, shaped like a three-dimensional cross made up of cubes. I've never seen something like that - it won't allow us to touch the damn rod, but it'll let through inanimate objects. And it's exhibiting the strangest behavior I've ever seen." The potions master frowned. The fact that the strange ward completely baffled his magical senses completely frustrated him. The only consolation was that Bella had no idea what to do about it, either.
"Behaved strangely? How so?"
It was Bella who answered, cutting Snape off with a sidelong glance. "A rock thrown in on the side would come out on top - a rock dropped in from on top would come out the side. Things like that. An object inside would 'fall' from one cube to the next, bouncing around and disappearing and reappearing at completely random points."
Hermione blinked at the odd description. "Can you draw it, or something?"
"It won't do much good," Snape grumbled. "Most wards are independent of shape. You of all people should know that, Granger." Despite his protest, though, he projected an image of the ward from his wand.
The sharp intake of breath from Hermione caused the little group to stop. "What is it?" Harry asked.
"It's a tesseract!" The brunette girl exclaimed. "They're supposed to exist in theory only, I mean, this is-"
"What in Merlin's name is a tesseract?" Bella blinked in confusion.
"It's a three-dimensional construct that isn't really three-dimensional at all," Hermione explained. At the looks of incomprehension she received from the others, though, she drew her wand and trailed it through the air, forming a square. "It's a muggle concept in physics. A square is two-dimensional. Now, if we extend a square into three dimensions, we get a cube." She added a few lines and a parallel square. The image floated there for a moment, before resolving itself into a cube.
"If we unfold the three-dimensional cube into two dimensions, we get an array of squares," she continued, and with a flick of her wand, the glowing cube hovering in mid-air unfurled into a flat cross of six squares. "A tesseract is basically the same thing taken to the next level - if we push a three-dimensional cube into four-dimensional space, we get a hypercube. Because we can't visualize a hypercube, much like a two-dimensional being could not visualize a three-dimensional cube, we can only see its projection. A tesseract is what you get when you unfurl a hypercube into three-dimensional space, it's the equivalent of flattening a cube into squares!"
The looks she was getting let Hermione know that she'd lost the others through her explanation. With a sigh, she simplified it yet again. "Somehow, the rod's been shifted into four-dimensional space. All that you're seeing right now is its projection on three-dimensional space."
"So, how do we get to it?" Bella asked.
"Not a clue." Hermione shrugged. "It's been theorized that four-dimensional space can be accessed via something called exotic matter, but then again, it's only been a theory in physics so far. I don't know about anything magical that would allow travel to higher-dimensional space. In fact, it seems wizards aren't even aware of it."
Before Snape could reply to that, Tess came running up to them, three familiar redheads in tow. "Milord!" the urgency in her tone was unmistakable, even as she and the three Weasleys skidded to a halt in front of Harry's party.
"What's going on?" Harry asked, shocked at the disheveled appearance of the twins. His eyes widened in shock when he realized Ginny was with them, her robes covered in dirt and scorch marks all over the three of them. Fred was dragging one leg, while George was letting one arm hang limply at his side - whether it was broken or not, Harry couldn't tell.
"Order headquarters… under attack," Fred managed to gasp out.
"Voldemort's troops came out of nowhere, just started pouring out of the fireplace. The old man's holed up there, but they can't hold out for long," George added as he cradled his injured arm with a grimace. "Dunno how they found the place, but Harry - it's bad."
"We took the emergency portkey you gave us. Took her with us, no other choice," Fred said apologetically.
Harry barely spared a glance at Ginny. She was silent, and right now that was fine by him - he had more important things to worry about than sorting out their relationship. "General!" he hollered, and an instant later, both Rotan and Hiscophney came rushing into the room. "Get your strike teams ready," Harry ordered. "We need to move, and fast. Five minutes, prepare portkeys to Number 12, Grimmauld Place. Voldemort made his move."
The two old soldiers nodded and returned a few minutes later with a dozen men each, fully armed and armored and ready to fight. In the meantime, Harry had managed to put on his armor with some help from Bella, and Snape had been similarly outfitted with a plate mail that Tess had brought up from the castle's armory. Neville, Luna, and Bella would be remaining in the castle for this fight, and even though Bella understood the reasoning, she didn't exactly like letting Harry go off to fight the dark lord alone.
When everyone was ready, Harry nodded at Tess. "Get them to a healer, and be prepared to receive wounded." He turned to the complement of soldiers that had been assembled, and said, "Let's go."
Half of the men grabbed a hold of quickly charmed portkeys, while the rest dove into the fireplace.
Travelling by Portkey or Floo was usually a disconcerting experience on its own, but having to dive out of a fireplace and straight into the middle of a firefight was a whole different thing. Harry felt the familiar lurch as he left the fireplace, and the first thing that hit him was the acrid stench of burning flesh. Rolling to the side to make room for the rest of his troops, he came up in a crouch, wand poised and spitting disarming hexes at the few Death Eaters that remained in the room. The two men that had been left behind to guard the place as the fighting moved deeper into the mansion fell quickly, even before the dozen ice soldiers had managed to assemble.
Harry gestured towards the soldiers, and they filed out of the room quietly, sweeping through the empty hallways. The young lord of Polairix suppressed the nauseous feeling that assaulted him as they passed countless dead bodies as they made their way through the mansion. Most of them were unfamiliar to him, but what struck him was that many of the dead Order members were old - likely veterans of the first war with Voldemort, or even the conflict with Grindelwald. They had given as good as they had got though, and dozens of men wearing the black robes and skull masks of the Death Eaters were scattered throughout the building, dead or dying.
It took them a while to reach the other team, led by Count Hiscophney, that had portkeyed into the building's front lawn and made its way in from the front door. The Count shook his head when they met up. "No survivors," he muttered quietly, causing Harry's heart to sink.
It was only after they made their way deeper into the building that they found out the battle wasn't yet over. Screams and shouts of anger echoed through the halls as they passed by the storage area that was adjacent to the kitchen. Hiscophney waved off Harry's attempt to approach directly, and gestured towards his own squad of sorcerers. The light in the hallway dimmed with a wave of his hand, and in the already dark hallway, the sorcerers almost perfectly blended with the shadows as they crept around the corner, only to unload a withering barrage of magical fire into the unsuspecting Death Eaters' backs.
Harry swung himself around the corner the instant the sorcerers called out their spells, the company of ice soldiers and Snape right behind him as they tore into the remaining Death Eaters. The battle was over quickly - pinned down between the defenders, who had barricaded themselves behind magical shields and upturned tables, and the experienced troops of the Ice People and Trazkaban sorcerers, the men went down quickly and painfully.
"Don't shoot! We're friendlies!" Harry shouted before either side could get it into their heads to shoot at anyone else, especially the sorcerers, who looked rather close to Death Eaters, themselves, with their long black cloaks.
"Potter?"
"Moody? That you?" Harry asked as he made sure all of his people had stood down.
"Damn straight." The grizzled old Auror stood from behind one of the blackened and charred tables, his wand raised into the air above his head in a non-threatening gesture. "Glad to see you, Potter. That was one ugly furball we were in."
Harry breathed out a sigh of relief. At least someone was still alive. One by one, the wizards and witches that Moody had barricaded himself with stood, all of them raising their wands into the air first. The tension between the two groups was still there, especially after the British wizards recognized Harry, but he ignored it in favor of looking over his friend. Moody was a little worse for wear, with blood dripping down his left sleeve and a deep gash in his right shoulder that was only partially mended, but he was steady on his feet and undeterred.
"There's more of us holed up in places somewhere down here," the old auror told Harry, "a lot of them made it down into the cellars. We posted up barricades like these at all the entrances, trying to hold those filthy Death Eaters back, but it was looking pretty bad for a while. Voldemort is here."
"Voldemort?" Harry's eyes widened. "Why are you even here? I thought you'd all be at the Ministry, setting up for the big attack?"
"We were," Moody said. "Then one of our missing aurors from Miss Bones's team was found early this morning in front of the Ministry. Voldemort got to him and carved a message in blood. He accepts your challenge, and will attack in two days. Dumbledore called up all the retirees and reserves the Order ever had to rally them for the final battle, but Voldemort somehow must have found out about this place. They came only minutes after we'd all assembled and started pushing us back."
"How'd he even know about this place? I thought it was under the Fidelius charm?"
"So did we," Moody growled. "There's only one possibility. We've got a traitor in our midst."
Harry turned to Hiscophney. "We've got to get the other survivors out of here."
The Count nodded. "We can assemble them and use our emergency portkeys to take them back to the castle in groups."
"I'll take you downstairs. There's some nasty surprises we found when we cleaned the place out," Moody offered.
"All right." Hiscophney signaled his men, and the sorcerers and ice soldiers spread out. While Moody led a number of them down the stairs to retrieve the surviving Order members, Hiscophney, Harry, and Snape split the remaining eighteen soldiers between them to clear out any remaining Death Eaters. It didn't take them long, between the skill of Harry's forces and the element of surprise, the Death Eaters that remained were rounded up and either killed or captures. There was no trace of Voldemort, though, and Snape suspected that the dark lord had left after the main body of resistance had been crushed - he had a battle to prepare for, after all.
All in all, they found forty-six survivors, out of what Moody had claimed had been at least a hundred people. Harry was relieved to find Tonks among the uninjured. Thirty-eight Death Eaters were counted as either dead or captured, according to Hiscophney's report, though Harry found it only a small consolation as they collected the bodies of the dead.
"Milord?" one of the ice soldiers spoke up tentatively as he approached Harry.
"Yes?"
"We've found something you should take a look at, sir." The soldier didn't miss the way Harry was taking in the carnage around him, the way the dead were mauled and maimed. This had long gone past the killing curse - at least, an Avada Kedavra was clean and quick, painless. The way the Death Eaters and Order members had fought, on the other hand… many of the corpses bore the marks of vicious curses or the creative use of other spells. One Death Eater had been found partially frozen and partially burned. One elderly witch from the Order had been found with a flesh-eating curse dissolving her skin and organs. Cutting and blasting hexes, fire and ice spells, lightning bolts and dark curses had left their marks not only on the walls and floors, but also on the bodies.
This had long gone beyond just a battle. This had been about absolute, unadultered hatred. The witches and wizards on either side hadn't fought to kill or capture, they'd fought to cause pain, to inflict as much harm on the enemy as possible. Harry shuddered. Despite all he'd seen so far, this viciousness caused bile to rise in his throat. In the end, though, it only strengthened his resolve to bring an end to Voldemort's reign of terror, because if this kept going, then the wizarding world was well on its way to self-destruction. If Voldemort didn't destroy it, then the hatred he was sowing would tear it apart a handful of years down the road.
There was one more thing that Harry dreaded with each survivor they found. Everyone they had recovered so far had said that Dumbledore had faced off against Voldemort, and that their duel had carried them well away from the main fighting. Neither one of them had been seen again. Harry got the sinking feeling that Voldemort may have succeeded in what he had for so long been trying to do - kill one of the greatest mages of all time.
Even as he followed the ice soldier, the feeling of dread in his gut that he'd had since they found the Rod of Dominion solidified into solid ice. They passed by other soldiers and sorcerers that carried the bodies of the dead to the area that had been the living room. Of course, the living room no longer had any walls to separate it from any of the surrounding rooms, but that was a boon right now, as the dead bodies accumulated there.
And then they rounded a final corner, and stepped into a room that had been utterly devastated. So devastated, in fact, that the room was gone. The building just ended. He could tell there had been a room there, most likely a ball room or large reception area, just from the piles of rubble that indicated where the walls had once been, but everything else was gone. There was no trace of the ceiling, nothing left of the furniture, and the ground, once solid marble, from what he could tell of the few inches at the door that had survived the cataclysmic battle, was scorched, torn, and blown apart.
Harry stepped into the outside hesitantly, and looked at what the ice soldier had wanted to show him.
The still face of Albus Dumbledore.