The battle was already raging when Harry and his group arrived back in the atrium. So far, Voldemort's troops hadn't managed to get past the defenders at the front gates, and when Harry stepped through the huge double doors that marked the entrance to the Ministry, he could see why. Rotan and Hiscophney had skillfully arrayed their troops, forcing Voldemort's army to fight an uphill battle as they climbed up the large stairwell that led to the building's front entrance, all the while taking fire from all sides.
Giants were leading the charge, using their large bodies and insane constitution to shrug off the curses and hexes the defenders were hurling at them and shelter the humans, vampires, and werewolves behind them from the brunt of the spellfire. An ice soldier arrived, giving Rotan a brief salute. "The primary barriers outside are holding, but Voldemort's mages have begun breaking down the wards that the sorcerers have put up. It will take them some time, but they are making progress. The southern flank is coming under heavy attack, and I was just about to send a company to reinforce them."
"Go ahead," Rotan nodded, glancing out at the battlefield. So far, the two frontlines were still well-drawn, and the defenders were at an advantage, hidden behind barriers and covered from enemy attacks as they were. However, a look over the totality of Voldemort's forces caused a shiver of fear to run down the aging general's spine.
The dark wizard had brought to bear innumerable troops, ranging from hundreds of giants that were able to just walk through whatever wards they had erected, to hordes of werewolves and vampires. Thousands of the dark creatures were spread out before the Ministry, and when a roar came from overhead, they looked up to see the sky darken as the sun was blocked out. Harry's blood ran cold as he recognized the familiar cold spreading through him, amplified by a thousand times as enough Dementors flew overhead to block out the sky.
"What the…" Harry stared in disbelief as the Dementors snarled angrily at the wards.
"What in the name of the Queen is going on here?" Rotan asked. "I thought these vile creatures were bound to the will of Lord Polairix!"
"They were… are," Harry gulped. "I went to Azkaban to check on Captain Nailoff and our defenses there just yesterday. The Dementors are still there."
"Then where did these come from? And in such numbers?" Rotan muttered, his throat dry. Giants, dark wizards, werewolves and vampires the aging general could handle. They were vulnerable to conventional weapons, and the Ice people had brought weapons that would decimate their ranks. Creatures that were impervious to anything but magic, on the other hand, were a different matter… and not just any magic, a specific brand of white magic, no less. That was something they weren't prepared to face, and certainly not in the thousands.
Hiscophney narrowed his eyes as he looked up in the sky. "Which books did you say were missing from the library?"
"Just our research on wards, and extra-planar magic," Harry replied, confused.
"Extra-planar magic, eh?" Hiscophney turned to look at Rotan and Harry. "Voldemort found a way to access another plane. He summoned these."
"What?" Harry cried in disbelief. He hated Dementors. Sure, he'd gotten used to the ones at Azkaban, but he had never fully gotten over his dislike of the creatures. They were something so vile, so dark, so… unnatural that he couldn't help but feel they weren't native to this world. He had less problems with giant spiders and basilisks roaming the field. Speaking of basilisks…
"What on Earth is that?" a soldier quailed, pointing out into the distance, where a giant snake was rearing its head.
"Dear Lord, he brought a basilisk ?" a second soldier muttered.
"So you're saying Voldemort went through the missing books that the traitor took, figured out how the ancestral Lords of Polairix managed to open a portal to another plane, and summoned what, a thousand Dementors?"
Hiscophney nodded at Rotan's assessment. "That would be correct. There is no other explanation. Dementors are not native to this plane; that much I know. There should only be a hundred or so in existence, stationed at Azkaban, all of them bound by blood magic to obey Lord Polairix. Therefore, we have to conclude that these have arrived on this plane just recently. There can be no other explanation for the sudden appearance of this many of these creatures."
Harry suppressed a shudder. He knew Voldemort was powerful, but even Bella and Hermione had never suspected anything like this to be possible. The possibility of opening a portal to another plane and summoning creatures had certainly never come up in any of their discussions. For him to be able to achieve this after just two days… the prospect scared Harry even more than the looming army of darkness. And he somehow had managed to transform Nagini into a giant snake, and the dark lord's pet seemed content to destroy anything in its path, crushing defenders and attackers alike under its fifty-foot long body. His blood ran cold. Any kind of plans they had made hadn't factored in Dementors, much less a thousand of them. They were virtually helpless against the soul-sucking creatures.
The Dementors were still kept at bay by the magical wards the Trazkabanian sorcerers had put up, but once those fell to Voldemort's spellbreakers, the Dementors would be free to roam their battle lines. As it was, their proximity and sheer number was enough to seriously affect everyone on the field. Harry grimly estimated the number of enemy troops at more than ten thousand. They were outnumbered almost three to one.
"Shacklebolt!" Harry shouted as the Dementors continued bouncing against the wards above them. The auror shouted back from his position on the north end of the stairs.
"We're a bit busy here, Harry!"
"Pull back all the aurors and have them do a Patronus ! We need to keep those Dementors away from us!" Harry ordered, leaving unsaid that once the wards failed, the Patronus charm would be the only thing standing between the defenders and a very quick death.
"Got it!" Shacklebolt belted out a few orders from his location, before retreating to stand with Harry, surrounded by a cadre of witches and wizards from the Auror department and the Order of the Phoenix. Harry's heart skipped a beat and he ruthlessly suppressed his anger when he saw Ron Weasley among them. Rotan and Hiscophney both left to take their command posts at the center and southern flanks, ordering the wizards they found along the way to fall back and conjure up the Patronus .
"I've got most of the wizards pull back behind the soldiers and sorcerers," Shacklebolt told Harry, "they'll be staying at a safe distance and will be throwing up the Patronus on your signal. These are the only ones I can spare to protect the inner defensive lines, I'm afraid."
Harry nodded in acknowledgement, then looked over the twenty-two wizards and witches the auror had brought with him. "All right, spread out and find some cover. I'm warning you right now that the front lines will most likely collapse soon, so find a place that's safe in case that happens. Your job will be to keep up the Patronus for as long as you can. When the wards come down, and they will, you're the only thing standing between our forces and those Dementors, so pull yourself together and cast the most goddamn powerful Patronus you've ever cast in your lives!"
Ron bristled at the commanding tone in his former friend's tone. "I don't take orders from you, traitor !"
"Weasley!" Shacklebolt shouted. "We don't have time to argue, now take your damn orders and comply!"
"No! Why the bloody hell is he even in charge? Are you so stupid you can't see he's just playing you? He's going to get us all bloody killed!"
Before Shacklebolt could answer, Harry reached out and slapped Ron across the face. The action stunned not only the redhead, but all the mages around them. Ron began to raise his wand, only to find himself held at wandpoint. Surprisingly, it wasn't Harry's wand he was staring down at, but Shacklebolt's. The senior auror trembled with restrained fury as explosions shook the building around them.
"This is not the time or the place for your childish behavior, Mr. Weasley. You volunteered to help defend the Ministry against Voldemort's attack, which means you are under my command . Since I follow Lord Polairix's orders and battle plans, that means you damn well will, too - now get the hell going before I toss you back into a fireplace to the Burrow!"
"If you're listening to what he's saying, then you're as much a traitor as he is!" Ron fired back. "This whole plan is insanity, he's just doing this so we all kill each other!" The surrounding witches and wizards were shifting uncomfortably, and Shacklebolt realized that was their fear, too. The auror suppressed an annoyed groan; this was the last thing they needed in this battle, but Voldemort had done too good a job at ruining Harry's image in the public, even with the revelation that he was innocent.
"Get down!" Harry yelled as he dove to the ground, taking two witches down with him. A fireball the size of a hippogriff exploded above them, tearing a giant hole into the building above. Harry's eyes widened as he tracked the quaffle-sized pieces of debris raining down on top of them. Without a second thought, he rolled over, his ivory wand out in his hand.
" Orbis Custodia !" The overpowered shield spell expanded outwards from him until it formed a dome fifty feet in diameter, covering all of the cowering witches and wizards as chunks of marble bounced off it. Harry let the spell fade away as the last of the rubble had crashed to the ground and stood a bit shakily. Adrenalin had caused him to push far more energy into the shield spell than it was supposed to handle, and it had drained him somewhat.
An unearthly screech filled the air, and his blood ran cold as he felt the protective wards surrounding the Ministry come down, sooner than he'd expected. A hasty glance up into the sky confirmed his fears as Dementors swept down on the defenders' lines, now unhindered by wards. Forgetting the exhaustion caused by the shield spell, Harry pointed his wand upwards and towards the forward battle lines.
" Expecto -" he faltered as the proximity to the Dementors caused him to almost black out, and he wobbled precariously for a few seconds, until he managed to put up the mental defenses that occlumency provided him with. " Expecto Patronum !" he roared, putting every ounce of his strength, every happy memory of Bella, every feeling of joy at becoming a father, behind it, because if they failed in holding back the Dementors now, then the whole battle was lost.
Instead of the familiar stag erupting from the tip of his wand, a beam of blinding white light speared up into the sky as the spell was amplified by the wand into its most powerful, most primal incarnation, causing the Dementors to swerve to evade it desperately. The one that got clipped by the beam opened its mouth in silent agony before it disintegrated. Seeing his signal, Patronus charms sprung up all across the front lines, the white glow of happy thoughts halting the Dementors' crushing advance. A hundred yards in the air, Harry's beam spread, splitting open like a flower blossom as it arched around, his mind molding the spell into a shield that would protect the people around him.
"What are you waiting for? Cast, dammit!" Shacklebolt swore as the aurors he stood with did nothing, either shocked by the immense power displayed by the young heir of Polairix, or stubbornly refusing to follow orders like Ron. Seeing the strain on Harry as the Dementors bounced up against his shield, Shacklebolt put up his own Patronus in the hopes of helping alleviate the strain on him a little bit.
It didn't take the Dementors long to find out where the most powerful spell was coming from, and whether it was their own intelligence, or orders from Voldemort to destroy Harry Potter, they homed in on his position, focusing their attempts at breaking through on him and practically ignoring everyone else. With his Patronus no longer focused and spread out over such a large area, Harry could merely strain to hold the barrier, instead of using it to destroy the Dementors.
With the Dementors focusing on Harry's position behind the center of the defensive line, the front had a much easier time recovering, but the ground they had lost during their battle with the Dementors had been costly, and dozens of soldiers, witches, sorcerers, and wizards lay on the ground, dead or soulless as they fell back. A dozen giants had made it through the southern flank, despite the reinforcements, and had wreaked havoc there before the combined artillery from General Rotan and an entire battalion of ice soldiers had taken them down.
The result was that the battle line was no longer straight; instead, the southern flank had been pushed much further back than the center or the northern side, something Voldemort's forces made good use of. Now that the wards were down and the creatures not immune to magic were able to engage in close quarters, the remainder of his army charged ahead. With an unearthly roar, vampires and werewolves rushed forward, an unstoppable torrent of dark creatures that tore apart anything in front of them. The southern flank suddenly found itself cut off and fighting to not get attacked from the rear.
General Rotan tore his sword out of a vampire, before slashing its throat with his silver-bladed dagger. The dark creature died with a shriek that was lost in the thunder of the Ice people's artillery as the heavy cannons opened up once more. Large explosive rounds slammed into the oncoming enemies, tearing gaping holes into their ranks; holes that, Rotan noticed grimly, were being filled up quickly. Seeing three werewolves approach the gun emplacement from the side where they'd been cut off from the rest of the defending troops, the aging general ran ahead, his guards right behind him. They came a moment too late, and the cannons fired for the last time as the werewolves tore into the soldiers manning them.
"Damned wolves," Rotan muttered as he hacked off one of the wolves' front paws, but it was too little, too late. The werewolf had already ripped out the gunner's throat. Once they realized that they had opposition, the remaining two creatures turned around, sparking a furious melee around the huge cannons.
"General! Look out!"
The shout from one of his guardsmen caused Rotan to turn around and duck. A silver-tipped lance from the guard flashed by overhead, burying itself deeply into the chest of a vampire that had been poised to leap onto his back. Rotan didn't get time to thank the man as the soldier suddenly found himself buried underneath a werewolf's massive jaws, and the general snarled in anger as his men died around him. With an angry heave, he kicked at the anti-infantry cannon that had been deserted the moment the werewolves had charged, turning it on its mount until it was faced into the oncoming hordes.
Swinging himself around into position, he gripped the handles and squeezed the triggers. The weapon roared to life, spitting fire and explosive shells from its four barrels. Ahead of him, a line of dark creatures exploded into a bloody mist as they were hit, and he continued to track the weapon around the battlefield wherever he could without hitting his own men, unheeding of the melee that was still going on around him. He could hear and feel the Dementors overhead, but right now there was nothing that he could do about them; most of the witches and wizards had fled the moment the front line had crumbled. With a disgusted snort, he glanced over his shoulder as the smoldering corpse of a werewolf hit the side of the cannon. A Trazkanabian sorcerer gave him a quick nod, to which Rotan replied with a thumbs-up as he pointed towards the direction of the other regiments.
The sorcerer understood and began rallying people around him, even as Rotan continued firing. Their position wouldn't last much longer, cut off as they were, he realized. They had to get back in touch with the other parts of their forces. That either meant a push forward, which would be almost impossible, since the enemy had forced them almost into the building at this point, or have the other sections fall back, as well.
Neither sat well with the general. A push would cost them too many lives, while falling back would give up valuable ground and lose them their heavy weapons emplacements. As it was, they couldn't use their heavy cannons and anti-infantry cannons to clear the way without running the risk of hitting allied troops, which meant it was up to the other sections to reestablish contact. Rotan looked down at the crate of ammunition by his feet. At least it looked like they wouldn't run out anytime soon, he thought with grim amusement.
A scream from behind him caused him to turn around, right as one of Hiscophney's men was torn to shreds by a werewolf. Ice soldiers rushed in to contain the beast before it reached the gun emplacement, but the wolf charged at them with a ferocity that left them all shocked and open to its claws and fangs. Rotan recognized the wolf's distinctive silver coat immediately.
"Greyback," he growled, beckoning another soldier over to take his place at the gun. With the weapon safely in someone else's hands and continuing to lay down suppression fire, Rotan drew his sword and stepped forward, his men clearing the area around.
The werewolf looked up, fresh blood dripping from its teeth, and snarled viciously. Rotan merely angled his blade forward, and readied himself to meet the charge of the most feared werewolf in centuries.
Count Hiscophney didn't need to see the swarm of vampires and werewolves and other kinds of dark creatures sweeping past on his right side to know that they were in trouble. Ever since the wards had failed and given the Dementors free reign, many of the witches and wizards from the Ministry's Auror department had panicked; the few that remained were mostly veterans of the Order, or of the first war with Voldemort, like Mad-Eye Moody. The crazy old auror was one of the few that remained with Hiscophney's section, and right now he was one of the few holding up a Patronus charm to keep away the Dementors. Hiscophney's men could do it, as well, but not many sorcerers that studied black magic could create something as pure as a Patronus, leaving him almost entirely dependent on wizards.
As it was, the only thing that was allowing them to hold their position right now was the constant barrage of artillery that came from their left side, from the northern flank's heavy gun emplacements that were still intact. The Ice people's heavy weapons, with their mixed ammunition of high explosives, incendiary rounds, and silver bullets were proving highly effective in halting the assault, but they were nearly useless at close range. Thanks to the ground they had lost before the Patronii went up, they had been forced to fall back almost to the center emplacement; with the guns in the center and on the south flank silent, the northern cannons were the only thing that stood between them and being overrun and pushed all the way back to the inner defenses.
Hiscophney was glad that whoever was in charge over at the northern section knew that, and had put every effort into maintaining a perimeter around the cannons and their operators to allow them to continue shooting. However, neither section had enough troops to make up for lost ground, which left their formation cockeyed and the southern flank completely cut off. The Count was very surprised when, right after he hurled a spray of acid at a werewolf, he heard the heavy report of the Ice people's anti-personnel cannon start up on the south side.
Glancing over, he could vaguely make out one of his sorcerers and a troop of ice soldiers trying to make their way over to them, only to be halted by the stream of dark creatures that separated the two groups. Taking a quick look around, Hiscophney realized that sooner or later, they would have to fall back, anyway, because with their front line split, the enemy had a clear path to come around and hit their backs. He made his choice.
"Fall back!" he shouted over the din of combat, casting a quick spell and throwing a specific set of colored sparks into the air. Around him, his troops immediately replied as the ones in the back took several steps backwards, found themselves new cover, and opened fire to cover the retreat of the front line. This stretched the connection between the center section and the northern flank even more. Knowing that they had to keep those guns firing, Hiscophney found his second-in-command.
"Get those weapons the Ice people have set up, and move them all the way back to the inner sanctum!" he ordered. "I want them aimed right at the doors! Be ready to shoot anything that's not a friendly after we fall back!"
"Understood! What about the north flank?"
Hiscophney glanced over. "I'll take care of it. Make sure you send a company to try and reconnect with Rotan's side, we can't afford to let them outflank us!"
"Yes, sir!"
The Count spared a few seconds to watch as the other sorcerer took off, before returning his attention to the raging battle. "You!" he pointed at an ice soldier. "Grab your battalion, and follow me!"
Without waiting for a reply, the Count turned around and started heading north, his own squadron of sorcerers around him. The ice soldier took a moment to collect his people and followed. He couldn't help but feel a sense of dread, despite the five hundred sorcerers and fellow soldiers, at the sight of the looming opposition between them and the northern side. Hiscophney and his sorcerers didn't seem to notice as they blasted their way through with ruthless efficiency.
The sorcerers, with Hiscophney at the head, carved a bloody path through the enemy formation, leaving very little for the battalion of ice soldiers trailing behind to deal with.
"Well, well, well… if it isn't the sorcerer who took Lucius's head." The cruel voice was accompanied by a scream of pain as a bludgeoning hex killed one of the ice soldiers.
Hiscophney arched an eyebrow as he eyed the two men standing in front of him coolly. "Lestrange, I suppose. Though which of you is which keeps eluding me."
Rabastan laughed, amused by the sorcerer's mocking. "Rabastan Lestrange, at your service. You killed my brother."
"If by keeping them you mean slitting their throats after you're done with them," Draco Malfoy muttered from next to him. Then, louder, the blonde snarled at the Count. "You killed my father, you bastard!"
"It appears we are at an impasse," Hiscophney commented as he took note of the scores of creatures and Death Eaters surrounding the Lestrange brothers. "I've been looking forward to meeting you, and sending you to meet Malfoy." He smirked at Draco. "Both of you."
Rudolphus sneered in return. "After we're done with England, your island is next, sorcerer. The Dark Lord will never stop."
"That's what I expected. Therefore… Ignis Abyssus !"
The hellfire spell roared from the Count's outstretched hands towards the two Death Eaters, who both dove out of the way. The giant who stood behind them wasn't so fortunate, and toppled over, screaming in agony as his flesh was scorched and his bones reduced to ash in an instant. Rabastan managed to rise to his feet gracefully, throwing up a shield spell in the process. Draco wasn't quite able to match his performance, and rolled around on the ground, trying to put out his burning cloak.