The fierce, concentrated assault on the main floor of the Potters' home had been successfully repelled by James, Frank, Sirius, and Remus. Mad-Eye Moody, his visible eye spinning wildly, confirmed their tactical success.
"It was a ferocious battle," Moody recounted, the adrenaline still sharp in his voice. "We had them flanked with our own Order members and a few Aurors I'd brought in. The Death Eaters were completely caught off guard by the strength of the resistance and were being routed."
He paused, and the shift in his tone was immediate and heavy. "But then, He Who Must Not Be Named appeared."
"The Dark Lord? Here too?" Lily and Augusta gasped simultaneously, the magnitude of the revelation stealing the air from the cramped room.
Moody nodded grimly. "Yes. Just as the Death Eaters were crumbling, the Dark Lord arrived to aid them. His magic… it was terrifyingly potent. The sheer power could be felt even across the yard. No one needed a spell to know they were facing something truly disastrous."
He described the scene: "Almost immediately after appearing, he unleashed a monstrous piece of Flame Magic—conjuring a giant, serpentine column of black fire that tried to sweep across the entire yard and incinerate our flank."
The description of the Dark Lord's intervention brought a cold, professional respect to Moody's voice. "Just as we were busy defending against that inferno, Dumbledore appeared."
Moody explained that the Headmaster had anticipated the possibility of Voldemort's direct involvement and was always on alert. "When the Dark Lord showed up, Dumbledore provided immediate support. He cast a powerful, complex counter-spell—something huge, almost like a localized 'End of All Curses'—that directly shattered the fire serpent and engaged the Dark Lord in a duel."
"The situation devolved into chaos immediately," Moody continued. "Spells were flying everywhere, and the sheer destructive force of the two of them clashing made the air thick with magic. Everyone, including the Death Eaters, scattered, trying to avoid being caught in the crossfire. We didn't dare gather around Dumbledore, for fear of affecting his concentration, so we were all forced into chaotic, individual duels."
Moody glanced down at the defeated wizards cluttering the basement floor. "I believe these four snuck in while that mayhem was at its peak—probably using a sophisticated Disillusionment Charm or an Invisibility Cloak. The fog of war was thick, and every one of us upstairs was fighting for their life against the bulk of the attack force. They were missed."
Alice Longbottom, her eyes wide with relief and fear, asked the question that gripped them all: "How are Frank and the others? Are James and Sirius safe?"
Lily and Augusta leaned forward, their faces tight with silent urgency.
"Don't worry," Moody assured them, nodding once. "Your husbands are all fine. We fought for a while longer, but the moment the Death Eaters realized they couldn't breach Dumbledore's position and the element of surprise was gone, they retreated with the Dark Lord. No one suffered any serious injuries—just minor cuts and bruises for Sirius and Peter, mostly due to being caught off guard."
He explained that the crisis was formally over. "The Aurors, under Barty Crouch's command, are now securing the scene and dealing with the necessary obliviations of the local Muggles. James and Frank are looking after the injured, and they sent me down here to let you know the immediate danger is past."
Moody looked around at the chaos of the safe house. "I just walked down here and saw all this—four of them, and your trench, and I was nearly killed by friendly fire. You gave me quite a greeting."
"Then don't expect an apology," Augusta stated flatly, crossing her arms. "You have no idea what was transpiring here."
Moody pursed his lips and shrugged his massive shoulders helplessly. The sight of the famously severe Auror being given a rare verbal dressing-down by Augusta made even Anduin suppress a smile.
But at this very moment, with the sense of security settling back over the room, a terrifying change occurred.
The Death Eater lying closest to the doorway—the one who had swallowed the unknown potion—suddenly shuddered and began to rise. He looked like a puppet brought back to life by a surge of dark, frantic energy.
He pulled himself up, his eyes now blazing with a fanatical, unnatural red, and let loose a strained, choking roar: "Long live the Dark Lord! Long live Voldemort! Avada Kedavra!"
The man lunged forward, his wand arm swinging wildly, the deadly green flash of the Killing Curse aimed directly at the center of the room, where Lily and Alice were standing, and where Anduin stood with Harry.
Anduin's focus, honed by the last hour of command, reacted instantaneously. He had no time for complex curses or even a shield charm. As the Death Eater raised his wand, Anduin lashed out with a quick, powerful Force Charm—a basic, raw burst of wind.
The sudden, invisible gust of air struck the Death Eater's chest like a physical fist, sending him reeling backward. Crucially, the force tilted his aim—the wand tip that had been directed at Harry was thrown violently upward. The green beam of the Killing Curse missed the group entirely, striking the stone ceiling with a flash of searing light and vanishing harmlessly.
In the brief, paralyzed silence that followed, Mad-Eye Moody acted with the lethal finality of a predator. He spun on his heel, his wand already raised. Moody did not hesitate, did not cast a Stunning Spell, did not bother with capture.
"Avada Kedavra!" Moody roared, his voice thick with professional coldness.
A second beam of green magic, thicker and more stable than the first, instantly struck the fanatic Death Eater. The man's unnatural light faded, and his body collapsed to the ground, utterly lifeless.
The sheer speed of the near-tragedy shocked everyone. The adults who had just begun moving toward the stairs froze, aghast that a wizard subjected to several powerful stunning spells could stand up again. They immediately rushed back to the basement.
Moody lowered his smoking wand, his magical eye fixing on Anduin. A rare, fierce smile—a feral grin that was far more intimidating than reassuring—cracked his scarred face.
"Little man," he grated, his voice a low growl of approval. "You reacted quickly. That was pure instinct, saving that boy."
"Oh my God, stop smiling," Anduin thought, feeling a shiver run down his spine at the sight of the wild grin. He forced himself to reply casually, "Likewise, your reaction was quite swift, Professor."
Augusta rushed toward Anduin, her usual stoicism momentarily dissolving into maternal fear. "Oh my God, Anduin, are you alright? That damned wizard... I don't know what potion he took to stand up after that barrage."
Moody strode forward, his gaze fixed on the body. He nudged the lifeless wizard with his foot. "Judging by the sheer fanaticism and the desperate strength," Moody said, his voice turning cold with expertise, "they likely ingested Dragon Blood Essence. It's a forbidden, highly unstable concoction that temporarily boosts aggression and magical output, but it always ends in madness and often death. They were a pack of self-medicating madmen."
Anduin, finally allowing the adrenaline to subside, felt a genuine wave of shame and lingering terror. He looked at the bodies, then at the wands scattered nearby. His mistake was glaring: he had failed to disarm the enemy after the battle.
He had been so focused on the esoteric aspects of his Devouring Charm that he had neglected the most basic, cardinal rule of combat readiness. He could have been killed, and worse, Harry could have been killed, all because of a moment of arrogant oversight.
At that moment, as if the reality of the danger finally broke through the magical saturation of the room, both babies simultaneously erupted. Harry burst into tears in Anduin's arms, and Neville wept loudly against Augusta's shoulder.
The two little ones had been so quiet during the entire battle, seemingly shielded from the fear by the sheer chaos or the women's calm presence, that Anduin had almost forgotten they were there. Now, the chilling sound of the second Killing Curse and the subsequent death of the wizard seemed to flick an emotional switch, and they finally began to wail.
Anduin, terrible at comforting children, gently released Harry. "Thank you, Lily. Here you go."
Lily took little Harry from him, her eyes fixed on the small, whimpering boy, then turned her gaze to Anduin, her expression radiating profound, wordless gratitude.
"Thank you so much for looking after Harry, Anduin," she murmured, clutching her son close. In the battle, she had been entirely focused on maintaining the defensive shield. She understood that in the final, critical moment, Anduin's swift, instinctive use of pure force had saved her son's life.
"You're welcome, Lily. We're friends," Anduin replied, rubbing his left arm, which was numb from holding the child for so long, the gesture masking his lingering shock. "That's what we do."
Moody clapped his hands together, bringing the focus back to logistics. "Alright, that's enough," he barked. "All of you go upstairs now. Go find your husbands. I'll handle the processing down here." He began collecting the wands from the hands of the unconscious Death Eaters with an efficient, professional ruthlessness.
Lily, Alice, and Augusta nodded, their relief visible as they ascended the shattered stairs to find their husbands.
Anduin paused, watching Moody work. The veteran Auror was first using a levitation spell to hoist the two Death Eaters who had been half-sunk in the floor, freeing them from the dirt, then dragging the one who had collapsed outside the door back in.
He laid all four figures—three stunned, one dead—side by side. When one of the stunned wizards twitched, Moody immediately hit him with a final, careless Stunning Spell.