Through the Fire and Flames [Endgame/Open]

[Deleted]

Through the Fire and Flames

The suits of armor were sweeping through the castle, forcing the invaders back. It was difficult for the armors to kill a wizard, owing to the natural range of a wand, but magic attacks were largely ineffective against the armors. In particular, those with shields posed a real problem, as the shields were impervious to magical damage and effects. They would retreat. And, with the towers being cut off first, by both the armors and house-elves who could bring aurors and teachers from other parts of the school, the only answer left was to leave through the front door. It was the most accessible part of the castle, one of the easiest places to find, and a bottleneck if they could back out through the front door.

Not today.

Neville reached the top of the stairs on the first floor, looking down on the entrance hall. Still dozens of masked intruders, now locked in combat with his teachers, his aurors, and his students. A surge of anger spiked through him, but he didn’t let it through his cold exterior. Instead, he raised his right arm again, feeling the buildup of magical energy coursing through him, and let fly.

Once more, a dozen vines snaked out angrily, growing at an extremely rapid rate. Once more, a dozen masked fighters found themselves impaled by the plants, skewered into the walls around the door. Once more, all eyes turned to Neville as there was a pause in the action. Neville raised his wand and roared. The Blasting Curse went off like a small bomb, and three more enemies were sent flying into the walls, the sound of breaking bones like gunshots in the entrance hall. When they fell to the ground, they did not move.

Well, maybe a little anger came through.

And now the masked intruders were in full retreat. The teachers, the aurors, the students and the armors were bad enough without having to deal with a man who was the subject of horror stories for Dark witches and wizards. Neville raised his wand and let his magic pulse through the grounds of Hogwarts. One advantage he had to being the Headmaster was that the school’s ancient magics tended to aid him when necessary. The former Gryffindor rushed down the stairs toward the door, but stopped when several people made to follow him. “No! You’ve all done well, but the rest of this fight is mine. We have one prisoner. We don’t need any more.”

The pure ice in his voice caused a couple of veteran aurors to step back. They knew that tone, they knew what it meant. Neville rushed out the front door and down the steps, but then slowed his pace to a steady walk forward.

The intruders had stopped well within the anti-Apparition charm that encircled the school. And the reason for that was simple. Encircling the castle was a horrible sight: great beanstalks had grown out from the ground, thick as trees and thirty feet tall already. They were growing thicker and stronger by the second—too strong to be blasted away by magic, too tall to be climbed over.

Neville put his wand to his neck, and his voice boomed out over the grounds. “You…you’re related to the attacks over the summer and here at the school. Then we’ll do this your way. One Auror...against a horde of cowards.”

@crystal7
@crystal2 (just so you both know that you could hear Neville from the air above :3)

[Deleted]

He strode out across the grounds, each footfall placed carefully. Gone was the slight clumsiness that most people had come to expect from Neville. Now, his moves were more fluid, more purposeful. Like a hunter, stalking his prey. He could hear people spilling out onto the grounds behind him, but he knew the Aurors would keep everyone back.

Nobody would be safe from Neville's magic, friend or foe.

Now trapped by the beanstalks, the invaders turned to face him. There were still dozens left, and apparently, that was enough to embolden them, as one pressed his wand to his throat. The voice that echoed out was unnaturally deep, meant to disguise the real voice. “You're not invincible. Let us out, or we'll kill you.” Neville continued his stride forward, not bothering to respond. He was done talking. The man snarled and pointed his wand forward. “Avada Kedavra!” The jet of green light lanced out toward him. One thing about that spell—it killed, no matter where it hit. So, especially at range, people always aimed for the chest. It was a bigger, easier target than the head or a limb, so it made sense. Neville saw the jet of green light smashed into his chest. Heard the screams and shouts before and behind him. Felt a vine beneath his robes shrivel and crumble into dust.

Sensed the sudden panic and fear among the masked crowd as he kept walking forward.

It was to be expected. That spell had no block. No answer. No countercurse. But it was surprisingly easy to circumvent, if you considered it. The figures before him were downright panicking now—what would work on someone who could ignore the Killing Curse? Neville stopped, finally, and spread his right hand out. He let his anger pour into his magic, felt the burst of power. His anger had never been explosive. Instead of affecting one of the wizards before him, his power washed out like a wave, being absorbed by the ground. And the ground began to churn and rumble. Shouts of fear and confusion on the wind.

Beneath the man who had fired the Killing Curse, the earth cracked open.

A plant tore through the ground, growing at such a speed that it flung the helpless masked figure into the air within one moment, and before he reached the apex of his flight, the thing towered over him. Jaws clamped onto his body, and he screamed in pain for just an instant, before he was unceremoniously torn apart and dropped to the ground at the base of the plant, the flesh already dissolving.

It was three stories tall. Dozens of long, waving vines surrounded it, each vine covered in small white spikes. And in the center, the thickest stalks of all ended in massive, blood-red flowers. And in the center of each flower, a great fanged mouth dripped a poison so potent it was corrosive.

The Venomous Tentacula opened its mouths and roared.

The sound vibrated the ground even where Neville was, the seven roars like a pack of demons. The figures began to back away from it, so mesmerized by their fear that they failed to notice what was growing up behind them.

And then the Whomping Willow crushed two of them.

Ranks broke. They scattered, trying to run, but it was too late. Whomping Willows, Wandeater Willows, and Tentacula were sprouting up around them, everywhere. And in the space between the tree-sized plants, smaller ones were growing. Dragon Lilies breathed flames at anything that came near them. Adderstongue bit down on fleeing ankles, poisoning them. Blasting Caps grew unnaturally large, great mushrooms becoming as lethal as landmines. And there was nowhere to run. Everywhere they turned, a new horror rose up to greet them, courtesy of a man who had studied nearly every known magical plant in the world. Lasher vines that could cut limbs off. Snargaluffs. Flesh-Eating Trees. And all of them whipped up into a frenzy by the rage-fueled magic that had activated their growth. Twenty years of walking the grounds had given Neville plenty of time to plant seeds, spores, and pods that were attuned to his magic.

But war is not a spectator sport.

Neville rushed forward himself now. They were running toward him, perhaps thinking it would be safer near him, but he was the only thing these plants wouldn't touch. They noticed him moving forward, and one tried to raised his wand. Neville slashed outward, and another head went flying. He jerked his neck left, then right, letting two Stunning Spell flash mere centimeters by his face, and a blast of wind hurled three more enemies into a patch of Devil's Snare. Then a curse was leveled at the ground in front of him. Neville crossed his arms in front of his face instinctively, as the Blasting Curse went off.

He was airborne, flying backwards, but as he slammed into the ground, Neville twisted his body. He took the hit with his shoulder and let his body's momentum flip him over. He was able to land on his feet, skidding backwards even as he pointed his wand forward and bore a hole straight through his attacker's chest.

"Crucio!"

Pain blossomed throughout his body, but Neville had experienced the Cruciatus Curse more than anyone alive. It had been a daily ritual for nearly ten months of his life, after all. The pain never lessened, but his tolerance for it had increased over time. He raised his wand at the attacker and fired a curse. When it hit, the figure went flying straight up into the air. Neville ignored him for the moment, moving back in on the others. He dodged two, three, four spells, before one managed to catch him mid-spin, slashing open his right arm in three places. Sectumsempra? Not sure, didn't matter at the moment. His wand flashed out, and he blasted another group of enemies apart, sending them into the waiting jaws, spines, and vines of what was quickly becoming a miniature forest on the grounds of Hogwarts. Now, none of the enemies could be seen through the growth.

But Neville never assumed that his opponent was done.

He slipped into the forest, a Tentacula bending sideways to let him in.

@crystal7
@crystal2 (so now a murder forest has sprung up on the grounds, and Neville is inside it, hunting Elaines people down)

[Deleted]

She had found her way to the entrance of the school, and Jamie was exhausted. She hadn’t stopped flinging spells since her conversation with Harper had ended, and it was enough to make her head throb. There were so many of the wizards in masks, and Jamie was actually grateful for the wolf, for once. Its instincts were sharper than hers, even when it wasn’t in control. The wolf saved her from many a curse, throwing her to the side before her brain could process what had happened. Despite her tiredness, though, Jamie felt oddly powerful; the last time a fight like this had occurred, her father had been on the wrong side. With every masked figure she stunned, she was erasing a bit of the legacy he had left for her. She hadn’t seen her brothers, but she could only pray that they, too, were fighting for the school. She couldn’t entertain the possibility that any of her siblings were hiding behind masks. A sick feeling crept into her stomach when she realized, slightly stunned, that her father could be fighting against the school. Her father could have been the man who ran away from her and Harper earlier, when she had snarled. He could be anyone.

Jamie was drawn out of her dangerous introspection by a sudden silence. When she turned her head, she found that vines had grown through the floor, and the entire school was looking at their headmaster, whose arms were raised. He was the one commanding the vines. The roar that left the headmaster’s mouth was that animalistic, and Jamie grinned. The wolf inside her recognized the rage there. Over the sound of crackling bones, Jamie opened her mouth, and let out a howl that spiraled up and away, a single note that the Hogwarts grounds had heart many a night on the full moon. Greyback’s daughter was not going to be silenced, especially now, when she was finally fighting for something she believed in.

[Deleted]

Neville knelt by yet another corpse he’d found within the shadows. The trees and plants had now grown so thick that the fading sunlight couldn’t even reach him, giving the entire place a quiet, dark gloom. He pressed two fingers to the man’s neck, though he already knew he’d find no pulse. Devil’s Snare did not let go of things without being forced, and it squeezed until what it had stopped moving. So far, he’d not found a single survivor, which wasn’t surprising, given their situation, but he was too old and experienced to assume anything.

Fwoosh.

Neville’s ears pricked up at that sound, and he turned. An orange glow could be faintly seen through the gloom. So, someone had survived and lit a fire? He started to move toward the flames, but paused as the glow intensified at an unnatural rate. Not surprising. If they had the presence of mind to use fire to try and save themselves, they would want to spread it as quickly as they could. But that only made them a targ—

A shark made entirely of flames roared forward, swimming through the air toward him.

Only reflexes saved Neville as he pointed his wand and fired a large, silvery toad at the oncoming beast. Fiendfyre! That was guaranteed to burn through his forest. The Patronus and the Fiendfyre collided, the shark biting viciously on the toad’s body, but after a moment, the fire dissipated. Like a Dementor, Fiendfyre sought out any fuel source it could find, but a Patronus was a physical presence that could not be harmed. The toad hopped back through the air to settle at Neville’s side, looking around. But the orange glow was spreading.

It was time to get out.

Neville turned and ran through the forest, but his movement seemed to only attract the growing blaze. He could see it racing through the plants to the left and right of him, could see the plants fighting back, trying to beat out the fires, but the Dark magic was too much for them to deal with. It hadn’t been a problem before, when sieging castles or fending off sieges, because it was impossible for anyone to control the amount of Fiendfyre that would be produced by eating at his forests. But for someone trying to escape, and not interested in the lives of their people—well, he’d screwed up.

A leopard of fire jumped at him, only to be intercepted midair by his own Patronus—but then a Hydra loomed up on his other side. Neville turned and fired off four more silver toads, though these were the size of housecats, rather than the large dog of a toad currently snuffing out the fires behind him. The hydra heads each caught hold of a toad, wrestling for control, but the last two heads lunged at him. Neville jumped sideways to dodge—

Saw a flash of large, angry silver rush past his head to smash into the hydra.

Hannah was here.

More silver streaks—the Order—were slipping into the forest around him, holding the flames at bay. It was a scattered defense, meant to hold off the fire long enough for him to get out, but they would need a concentrated Patronus wave to actually snuff the flames. Still, they bought him precious moments to hold a position. Neville lashed out with his wand, and the thick canopy above bent away from him, revealing the sky above, streaked orange and purple in the fading sunlight. Casting spells would only attract the Fiendfyre, but if he could get someone’s attention without casting…come on, come on—there!

In the skies above him, a great bat appeared, and even over the steadily increasing roar of the growing fires around him, Neville could hear Percival screeching for help.

@crystal7
@hannah

[Deleted]

@superluigi64 @hannah

Harry dove down from the sky. His battle with Elaine had come to a stalemate. There was nothing he could do without harming one or more of the students. His guilt nearly overwhelmed him as he turned away from that battle. Leaving the students, the children, was not something he wanted to do. He stuffed his anger and guilt down. Now was not the time for that. As he zoomed away from the students, their shapes getting smaller and small on the horizon, the bright light blossomed underneath him. Andy feelings evaporated except for desperation.

Fiendfyre. She had shot off fiendfyre and Neville was stuck in the middle. Desperate to help, Harry urged his very old broom to it's limits. He saw everything with the clarity that adrenaline brings. The animalistic shapes attacking his friend, his patronus holding them, off. Harry let out a cry of warning as two hydra heads plunged in for the kill, but then shots of sliver appeared around Neville. Looking around he saw several members of the Order. Neville had called them, and here they were. Closet to the fire, though just out of reach, was Hannah. All of the members were concentrating on their patronuses, they wouldn't be able to get Neville out, nor hold the fire at bay for much longer.

Pushing his broom just a little harder, Harry shot past the Order, down into the fray. The patronuses created a small circle where Neville was trapped. Harry pulled his broom up at the last second, and jumped from the broom. He held it in his hand as he landed on the ground, one knee to the ground.

Ginny, holding James for the first time in her arms. The image filled him with strength and courage he had forgotten he could posses. "EXPECTO PARTONUM!" He yelled out as he stood next to his long time friend. A brilliant and blinding silver stag burst from the end of his wand. It battled against the fiendfyre, destroying a diving eagle.

"I thought you could use a little help." he teased, tossing one leg back over his broom. He held a hand out for his friend.

[Deleted]

If he hadn’t been surrounded by Fiendfyre, Neville would have spent some time kicking himself. He knew the first rule of rescue was to not become another victim, but he’d still created a situation, however accidentally, that turned him into a liability. He shouldn’t have entered the forest. Even if some of them had survived the gauntlet, they were still ringed in giant beanstalks that would prevent them from escaping unnoticed. But no, he’d wanted to make certain that the ground was safe, to give Harry time to take over the skies, get more Aurors flying to back him up. And Elaine had taken the advantage immediately. Now Harry had to choose between his life and the students—and Neville had known Harry long enough to know what his choice would be. He’d see the world burn to save a friend. It was an admirable quality, but Neville would rather his students be put first.

The cursed fire pressed in from all directions, battling an assortment of silver animals who tried desperately to hold the tide back. But here, where fuel was plentiful all around, near the heart of the fire, there could be no organized snuffing out of the flames. The Patronus line was holding, but Neville was a living target, flesh and blood, and the Fiendfyre always went for live prey.

Neville looked skyward, seeing Harry drop out of the sky with the grace and skill of someone for whom broomsticks were not just a tool, but an extension of existence. His dive had attracted a fiery bird that dove after him, but Harry was already reacting, turning his wand on it. The silver stag, a Patronus of such power that Neville had never seen its equal, erupted and charged vertically, meeting the Fiendfyre in midair. For most Patronus charms, the tactic for dealing with Findfyre was simple: keep the fire’s attention on themselves, let it burn itself out trying to consume the indestructible construct of positive energy. But Harry’s Patronus was in a league of its own. The initial charge of the silver stag shattered the fiendfyre bird into a dozen fluttering, angry moths, and with a few swipes of the antlers, the stag snuffed out those flames as well.

There was a reason Harry was always first into battle against evil.

“I thought you could use a little help.”

Neville took Harry’s hand and hauled himself onto the broom behind the smaller Gryffindor. “I messed up at the end, shouldn’t have endangered myself unnecessarily—get us out of here. I can take the punishment later.” Not that he’d done anything illegal, but Aurors were never allowed to get away with making a bone-headed move. You always paid it back somehow. When lives were on the line, mistakes could be tolerated, but poor judgment, impulsiveness, or just plain stupid decisions could not.

Focus on the present. The kidnappers had escaped—at least a small fraction of them. They’d won the first battle. Time to see if a second battle could be forced.

@crystal7