The world had not yet ended.
Nor was the war over.
Although there were very many stone soldiers, they were ultimately still lifeless things with no intelligence.
So it could be clearly seen that, as time passed, the battle line quickly reached the square before the gates of Hogwarts.
Death Eaters recklessly using dark magic, Werewolves who were agile and skilled in close combat, ghouls being used as cannon fodder, Dementors watching hungrily from the air, and the battlefield weapons known as Giants.
This force looked as if it had been thrown together at random, and there was not the slightest sign of coordination among them. Yet this exact combination kept forcing the stone soldiers steadily back.
Boom!
Boom!
Boom!
Shattered stone flew through the air, mingling with the flashes of magical explosions.
Every swing of a Giant's wooden club sent stone soldiers tumbling down into the valley.
Under the Werewolves' claws, the hard stone armor crumbled as easily as paper.
Although the stone soldiers felt no pain, feared no death, and had no emotions to affect their judgment, under such a fierce assault, they were still forced back to the far side of the bridge in a very short time.
Seeing this, Minerva McGonagall, who had arrived on the battlefield with the professors, could not help showing a grave expression.
Standing before the gates, Minerva McGonagall drew her wand. "Listen. We must stop them here. As for the chaos inside the castle, we'll leave that to the others."
"Hoo... it's about time those bastards learned the strength of the wizard who placed first in the Wizarding Duelling Championship."
"Don't fall behind, Sprout."
"Let them see the magical power of Hogwarts' three Heads of House."
Among the professors who had come to the battlefield, the magical fluctuations from the three of them were the most astonishing: Minerva McGonagall, who led them; Filius Flitwick, short in stature but immensely powerful; and Pomona Sprout, gentle by nature but strict when needed.
They were the Heads of House of Hogwarts.
...
Speaking of which, among these professors, one figure looked somewhat familiar.
To be precise, one could see the shadow of Dumbledore in him.
While assigning the other professors the positions they needed to hold, Minerva McGonagall used her masterful Transfiguration to command the stone soldiers against the Giants. "Aberforth... I'm entrusting my students to you."
The instant she met those blue eyes, eyes that seemed able to see through people's hearts, Minerva McGonagall felt as if she had seen Dumbledore returned from the dead.
He had features similar to the late Dumbledore, along with the same powerful magic and presence.
If one saw the wand in his hand, it would truly be possible to mistake him for the other man.
Yes.
The wizard standing with Minerva McGonagall at this moment was Dumbledore's own younger brother.
Aberforth Dumbledore!
Faced with Minerva McGonagall's request, Aberforth, who had originally intended to join the fight as well, ultimately stopped. "...Minerva, you should know. That man hasn't appeared yet."
"That man..."
"I hate to bring it up, but the fact is, only that damned Albus could stop him."
Although he did not say it plainly, the meaning of Aberforth's words was already very clear.
Do not be fooled by the fact that, with Minerva McGonagall and the others joining the battle, the situation had finally been stabilized for the time being.
Once that Dark Lord, whose whereabouts were still unknown, arrived on the battlefield, the stalemate before them could very well collapse completely.
Of course, the side that lost control would definitely not be the Dark Wizards and dark creatures before them.
It would be Minerva McGonagall and the others.
This was something commonly seen in magical wars.
Compared with victory or defeat on the tactical or strategic level, on the battlefield of the magical world, the appearance of a wizard on the level of Dumbledore or the Dark Lord could easily decide the outcome of an entire war.
And the worst part was that, on the surface, Minerva McGonagall's side was precisely lacking such a powerful presence.
As for this point, Minerva McGonagall... no, every professor who had appeared here knew it perfectly well.
Yet even knowing that this path would most likely lead to certain death, they had still come here without hesitation.
Thinking this, Minerva McGonagall removed the glasses from the bridge of her nose. "You're right..."
"In that case!"
"But... we are their professors, and this is our home!"
As professors of Hogwarts students.
As Heads of House to these young wizards.
With the conviction of the Order of the Phoenix.
How could they possibly, at such an important moment, burrow away and flee like Nifflers?