The Hall of Prophecy descended into a maelstrom of chaotic, multi-directional spell-fire. The Death Eaters, caught completely off guard, were now fighting a battle on all fronts. Their planned, leisurely execution of a schoolboy had turned into a desperate, frantic fight for their own survival.
"They're everywhere!" one of the Death Eaters shrieked as a stunning spell from Ginny Weasley hit him from the side.
Neville, his face a mask of grim determination, successfully performed a full-body-bind curse on another. Luna's disorienting charms, bizarre but effective, caused a third to stumble directly into a powerful blasting curse from Sirius Black.
The battle was short, brutal, and utterly one-sided. The Death Eaters were outmaneuvered, outmatched, and systematically taken down by the combined, coordinated force of the D.A. and the Order. Realizing the trap was closing, the remaining few, led by Lucius Malfoy and a screaming, furious Bellatrix Lestrange, did the only thing they could. They fled.
They blasted their way out of the Hall of Prophecy, back into the circular room, only to run directly into the second layer of the trap. Kingsley Shacklebolt and the other Aurors were waiting. More Death Eaters fell, bound and stunned.
The fight spilled out, a running battle through the strange, dream-like chambers of the Department of Mysteries. A Death Eater was knocked unconscious by a shower of flying hourglasses in the Time Room. Another was left babbling incoherently after his head fell into the tank of brains.
Finally, the last two fugitives, Lucius and Bellatrix, burst through the final door and into the vast, dark Atrium of the Ministry. They thought they had reached safety, the Floo network just yards away.
Instead, they found the last line of defense waiting for them. Dumbledore and McGonagall stood near the Fountain of Magical Brethren, their wands raised, their faces grim and resolute. And behind them, a crowd of Ministry officials, including a pale, terrified Cornelius Fudge, watched in horror. They had been summoned by Amelia Bones, who now strode out from behind a pillar, her own wand alight.
"It's over, Lucius," Amelia said, her voice like the crack of a whip. She immediately engaged Malfoy, her spells powerful and precise, overwhelming his panicked defense in moments.
At the same time, Ariana and Harry emerged from the lift, arriving just in time to see the final confrontation.
Bellatrix Lestrange, her eyes wild with cornered fury, let out a high, crazed laugh. She saw Harry, her master's nemesis, and raised her wand. "I'll kill you, Potter!" she shrieked.
"He is not your opponent tonight."
Ariana's voice was cold as the void between stars. She shoved Harry forcefully towards
Dumbledore, pushing him out of the line of fire. "Professor, protect Harry!" she commanded.
Then, she advanced on Bellatrix, her Elder wand held loosely but purposefully in her hand. For the first time, her serene composure was gone, replaced by a focused, predatory intensity. This was not a duel of logic; this was an extermination. This was the woman who had tortured the Longbottoms, who had tried to kill her friends. Midnight remained beside Harry.
"You," Bellatrix hissed, her gaze fixing on Ariana. "The little Dumbledore I have heard about. I'll enjoy breaking you."
The duel that followed was not a duel; it was a storm. It was a clash of two immense, fundamentally different kinds of power. Bellatrix fought with a chaotic, sadistic fury, her curses wild and jagged, designed to inflict maximum pain. She sent torrents of purple and green fire, she conjured whips of pure dark energy, she laughed as her spells shattered the marble floor around Ariana.
Ariana, however, was a force of pure, focused efficiency. She did not waste a single movement. Her shield charms were flawless, appearing an instant before a curse could strike. Her counter-spells were not just defensive; they were tactical. She didn't block Bellatrix's fire; she transfigured the shattered marble floor into a wave of sand, smothering the flames. She didn't dodge the energy whips; she caught them with a silent binding charm, turning Bellatrix's own weapon against her.
It was a battle of madness versus mathematics, of chaotic hatred against cold, logical force. And logic was winning.
Ariana saw her opening. Bellatrix, in her rage, overextended herself with a powerful curse. For a fraction of a second, she was off-balance. It was all Ariana needed.
She cast three separate spells in a single, simultaneous, silent weave. A Disarming Charm to rip the wand from Bellatrix's hand. A powerful Concussive Hex aimed at her chest to throw her off her feet. And a full-body Incarcerous Charm to bind her before she even hit the ground.
The three spells struck as one. Bellatrix's wand flew from her hand. The invisible force of the hex slammed into her, lifting her from the ground. And the magical ropes coiled around her mid-air, wrapping her in an inescapable cocoon. She hit the floor with a heavy, final thud, utterly defeated, bound, and conscious enough to feel the full, burning weight of her humiliation.
Ariana stood over her, breathing slightly heavily, her wand still pointed. She had won.
And it was at that moment of victory that a new, cold presence filled the Atrium. A presence so powerful, so evil, that it seemed to suck all the warmth and hope from the world.
From the shadows of an empty fireplace, a tall, skeletal figure with a chalk-white, snake-like face and burning, red eyes emerged. He was no longer the pathetic, infant-like creature from the graveyard. He was whole. He was terrifying.
Lord Voldemort had arrived.
He surveyed the scene: his most loyal lieutenant, defeated and bound at the feet of a schoolgirl; Lucius Malfoy, stunned and being secured by Aurors; and Dumbledore, standing with Harry Potter behind him.