Warning: Gruesome death and gore.

London, October 2nd, 1999, 05.47 hours

Hermione woke up before her alarm went off. She was used to that - it happened often if she had an important task. The witch rolled onto her side and watched Ron. Her lover was asleep on his back, his chest slowly rising and falling. He looked relaxed and at peace, not worried and resigned, as he had the evening before.

She hated to wake him up, but she would. Just not right now. She reached out and touched his bare chest with her hand, caressing his skin and moving up to his head. Suddenly, her wrist was gripped, and she hissed in surprise and a bit of pain.

"Sorry." He released her hand, smiling sheepishly.

"It was my fault." She rubbed her wrist. "I should have remembered."

He propped himself up on his elbows. "How much time do we have before we need to be at the Ministry?"

"Not enough for what you are thinking," she answered, smiling.

He sighed theatrically. "Attacking at dawn! I know it's traditional, but it's very inconvenient right now."

"At least we will not be fighting at night," Hermione said. "They'll have a harder time escaping."

"Awfully confident, are we?"

She nodded. "We have the advantage in numbers and training, and experience." Although the last was only thanks to the veterans among Dumbledore's exiles.

"No plan survives contact with the enemy," Ron quoted.

Hermione sniffed. "That saying was meant to tell people that they needed to be flexible, and have more than one rigid plan." Muggle books hadn't been permitted for Wands in training, but that one had been quoted by one of the older handbooks. So she had bought a battered copy in a used book shop, and smuggled it into the barracks.

Ron grinned. "Well… I know you're flexible. Very flexible." His grin turned into a leer as he let his eyes travel down her body.

She didn't blush, but her smile grew wider. If only they had time… She bent over to kiss him.

Five minutes later, her alarm went off, proving her earlier claim that they didn't have enough time.

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The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.20 hours

Ron Weasley was sitting on his broom, out of sight of the old and weathered, but still solid, house in the distance. He knew strong wards were layered over it, making it impossible for muggles to even notice it, and preventing spells and attackers from reaching its walls. The Dark Lord's hideout was well-protected.

It wouldn't help him, though. The Wands were out in force, and Dumbledore had brought two dozen of the Order of the Phoenix, including the four youngest Weasley siblings and Harry, who had confirmed that both the Dark Lord and his last Horcrux were inside. This time, he'd not escape.

Harry and Ginny were on brooms as well, next to him. Ron wished Hermione was there, but she was on the ground, with her team. Fortunately - even though she didn't like it - she was with the reserves, not the first or second assault element. He had wanted to stay with her, but he had been informed in no uncertain terms that it would be a bad idea, since he was not familiar with the standard tactics of the Wands, and so might get hurt by friendly fire. Sirius had been assigned as a liaison to the Wand-Commander. Harry's godfather had been torn about that - he had wanted to stay with Harry - but Dumbledore had persuaded him he could do more for his godson by ensuring the attack would be well coordinated with the Wands.

So he was with his best friend and his sister. Reserves as well - of sorts. Dumbledore had made it clear that they were not to engage until and unless the professor ordered them to. Something that had pleased Hermione.

They were more alike, he realised, than they thought. Ron chuckled, earning a glance from Ginny and a questioning look from Harry.

"Just a funny thought," he said. "Hermione and I, we are both happy that the other is in the reserves, and angry that we are."

Ginny and Harry exchanged a look that clearly said that they didn't think this was even remotely funny. Ron shrugged. They were about to face the Dark Lord and his Death Eaters. His thoughts were bound to be a bit off while waiting for the battle to start.

Which should be any minute now. The sun was starting to rise. Ideally, the Curse-Breakers would move now, before the morning had fully broken, under the cover of the fading darkness. As if they had read his thoughts, a team of eight Wands disillusioned themselves and started towards the house. A minute later, a dozen Wands lifted off on their brooms. They'd cover the area with jinxes to prevent magical travel and disillusionment spells.

He started to take to the air himself - there was no need to remain in cover now. He was out of range of spells, and the Death Eaters would notice the attack as soon as their wards alerted them.

The Curse-Breakers were now protected by conjured walls and ceilings, forming an impromptu bunker. And broom riders were surrounding the house, flying in random patterns to make targeting them harder.

Harry reached his side, followed by Ginny. "He's still inside."

"Then he is now trapped." Ron smiled. So far, all was going according to plan.

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The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.30 hours

The Dark Lord Voldemort felt the wards come under attack even before they alerted him and his Death Eaters. His enemies had found them. But how? Was there another spy he had missed? There was no time to dwell on that. The wards were strong, but they would not stand up to a concerted attack for that long. Long enough, though, to prepare.

He called his followers to the hall, acting with more calm than he felt. It wouldn't do to show anything but the utmost confidence in his own power. They arrived quickly. Bellatrix was the first, as he had known she would be. His most loyal follower looked eager. Others tried to hide their anxiety. They couldn't, not from him.

"The mudbloods and the traitors are attacking the wards," he stated. "The fools do not know what awaits them."

There was a reason he had chosen this house. He had spent months here, decades ago. Back when he had acquired the notes of one of Grindelwald's highest-ranking Storm Wizards. Months he had thought wasted, back then. He had been young, and inexperienced. Talented, driven, but not yet ready.

But now one of his mistakes might just turn out to be his salvation. His followers looked at him. Bellatrix trusted him blindly, of course, but even those who had been lacking courage were now straightening.

He briefly checked the wards. They were still holding. As expected. And his surprise was already on the way.

"You know how I have been betrayed by those I trusted. How we have been betrayed. My sacrifice was used to conquer Britain 18 years ago, and what happened? Instead of preserving our culture, protecting it from the mudbloods' corruption, the traitors perverted it! They taught the mudbloods how to oppress their betters! Even now, they are out there, attacking us! They know we are the purebloods' last hope."

His followers yelled their support. He checked the wards again. They were steadily growing weaker. He raised his arms, and the crowd fell silent.

"I will not lie to you. The mudbloods and blood traitors outnumber us. And this time, Dumbledore is with them."

His Death Eaters remembered the fights with the mudbloods. And the older, more experienced ones would remember Dumbledore. The anxiety was back.

"While I battle Dumbledore, you will be facing hordes of mudbloods. Those beasts have but one goal: Our utter destruction. They deserve no respect, no mercy, no quarter. They are rabid animals that we must exterminate before they spread their disease to the country."

He took a deep breath. The wards were now close to breaking. But there was time still, to finish this. "Were it but me, I would not even contemplate this. I have conquered death itself! But you, my trusted, faithful followers… you are the flower of Britain. To save you, no sacrifice is too much, no cost too high."

He glanced to the side and opened a hidden door with a flick of his wand. A figure stepped out of the dark room behind it. His Death Eaters recoiled at the sight. Some hissed, some cursed. Wands went up, and even Bellatrix looked disgusted for a moment, before she smiled at him again.

"If not for our enemies treachery, this would not be happening. But as they do not respect our traditions, they do not deserve to be protected by them." He raised his wand. The wards were close to failing. His first spell ripped a hole in the roof. His next spell shot into the sky.

"To battle!"

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The Weald, Kent, Britain, October 2nd, 1999, 07.55 hours

Wand-Leader Hermione blinked when the roof of the house blew up from the inside. For half an hour she and the other Wands had been expecting the Death Eaters to start attacking from behind the wards. That was why the Curse-Breakers had been protected by conjured walls. But this… why would they blow up their own roof?

Then another spell shot up, straight up. She saw the flyers move away, but they would be too late… the spell seemed to vanish. The blast she expected failed to appear.

"What the…" Dean muttered next to her. "What was that?"

"I don't know," she answered. She didn't recognise the spell.

"The clouds. They are moving faster," Colin exclaimed, next to her.

Hermione checked. Her friend was correct - the clouds were moving rapidly, in a circular motion. And the wind was picking up. She could see the highest flyers struggling to hold their positions.

"He's creating a storm. He's forcing the broom riders down." She was impressed by the sheer power this demonstrated. But why would the Dark Lord do this… she gasped. "Watch the ground!"

Her warning was too late. All around them, the earth erupted right in the middle of the Wands and exiles. And when she saw what was breaking through the soil, claws digging into the soft ground, unnatural, monstrous, wrong heads turning, seeking prey, she was not the only one who screamed.

It was an abomination, Hermione noted, casting a Shield Charm before aiming her wand at it while it was still trying to lift itself out of the narrow tunnel it must have dug. Not quite an Inferius, though it might have started as one. Rotting, festering skin, flaking where it wasn't covered with dirt, covered a dead body, warped and changed. Too long arms ended in claws dripping with ichor. Empty eye sockets glowed with red flames above jaws that seemed to have been taken from a shark, or a dragon.

Her Blasting Curse hit the thing dead centre, knocking it back and blowing parts of its chest away. Rotting organs started to spill out, followed by green vapour. It didn't seem to be inconvenienced much, if at all, and was now almost out of the hole. Her next curse hit its head, turning the misshapen skull into a shower of bone fragments and rotten tissue. Even then it was not destroyed, but kept flailing around, almost catching Dean, who was retreating from another, in the back.

Her friend and teammate managed to dodge, though at the cost of letting another monster pull itself up and out of the ground. Hermione hit it with a Severing Curse, cutting off one arm but missing the head. Dean didn't miss with his own curse, beheading that abomination as well.

Then Hermione heard Colin scream. She whirled around and froze for an instant. Her other teammate had been caught in the gut by a monster's claw, the red tips coming out his back. Before she or Dean could react, the other claw ripped the boy's head and shoulder off, sending blood flying.

"NO!" Dean yelled and started casting wildly.

The monster was hampered with Colin's corpse stuck on its claw, and didn't seem to be able to move as fast - certainly not fast enough to dodge as Severing and Cutting Curses sliced into it. Hermione shot a Blasting Curse at the monster's legs - sporting claws as sharp and long as its arms - and managed to throw it to the ground, one leg blown off at its second joint. Before she could exploit that though, something - the flailing limb of Dean's attacker - hit her legs from behind, bowling her over. If not for her Shield Charm, now gone, she would have been severely hurt. She found herself in a pool of blood and ichor, staring at the remains of another Wand, the body too badly damaged to be recognisable. Fighting the urge to hurl, she stood up again, recasting her Shield Charm.

Dean had finished the wounded monster off, cutting it to twitching pieces with several curses, but the other two creatures were still moving, even if they were blinded. And all around them, Wands were fighting for their lives against more monsters.

"Incendio!"

The dead things started burning, but not as quickly as she hoped. They had to be much more resilient than Inferi then, she thought. "Fire hurts them, but not quickly!" she shouted, aided by an Amplifying Charm.

Many of the Corps had realised the same thing. She saw a Wand back away from a burning but still fighting creature. She recognised him as Alvin, but before she could call out a warning he had retreated right into the claws of another monster. Other Wands were luckier, and had managed to form clusters covering each other.

"Follow me!" she shouted to Dean, and started to make her way towards the closest formation. They needed to form up to have a chance - already too many figures in brown robes were on the ground, victims of those abominations. And the Curse-Breakers… if those monsters had broken into their shelter…

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Ron Weasley had known they were in trouble when he had seen the spell fly straight up to the clouds. And he had been right. Within less than a minute, the sky had gone from cloudy but calm to a rapidly brewing storm, making it harder and harder to stay in position - or even just stay on his broom without the help of a Sticking Charm. He spotted movement on the ground - enemies emerging from the earth, and spells started flashing, but the storm held his attention.

"We need to land!" he yelled into the growing roar of the wind.

"We can stay!" Harry yelled back. "I've flown in worse!"

"Bloody Quidditch Seeker!" Ron cursed, then yelled: "There'll be worse to come! It's a trap!" The Dark Lord wouldn't go to that length if it was just some wind. He saw Ginny struggle more and more to keep near Harry - her smaller body didn't offer much resistance to being blown away by the wind. "Get down, damn it!" They could deal with the monsters on the ground - Inferi, they looked like - but not with this storm.

He saw that the Wands in the air were struggling as well, and retreating. A few of the exiles were holding their positions, or at least trying to. The wind was now so strong, he'd need an Amplifying Charm to be heard over it. He drew his wand, and almost lost control of his broom. Ron started his descent, hoping he'd not be smashed into the ground by a sudden gust. Harry and Ginny followed him down.

Then the roof of the house disappeared in a cloud of smoke and fire. For a moment, he cheered - someone had managed to strike back, or so he thought. Then the cloud of smoke and debris was picked up by the wind, and his Shield Charm was battered by fragments of wood and stone. The spell wouldn't last long, he realised, and dived towards the ground as if he was a Seeker pulling off a Wronski Feint. Ron almost crashed into the ground, but he managed to pull up in time.

Looking up, he saw Harry and Ginny close by, landing with more grace. Behind them was Ted Tonks, who was too slow and whose Shield Charm shattered in the middle of the whirling debris. Ron stared while stone and wood splinters ripped into the man and his broom, sending both to the ground, broken. He tried to cast a Cushioning Charm, but the storm made judging Tonk's fall too hard - the man crashed unimpeded into the ground. One of the Inferi was close, and pounced, and Ron realised it wasn't an Inferius at all, but something else. Something worse.

He rushed to Harry and Ginny, cursing the closest monster. Where was Dumbledore?

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Albus Dumbledore had underestimated Tom, once again.

The Weather-Control Spell was an unusual choice, and the old wizard had briefly wondered if the Dark Lord planned to drive the broomriders from the sky so his followers could escape. The storm had quickly grown too strong to fly through though, and he had started to descend right away. Countering the Weather-Control Spell would take too long - Voldemort would be free to attack the Wands and Order members. Unfortunately, Albus was a bit too late reaching the ground - abominations were already bursting out of the earth.

He cast a Fire Whip that cut one monster apart right before he touched the ground, saving an isolated Wand from death. He was too late to save the Curse-Breaking team though; from what he had seen on his descent, multiple monsters had emerged inside their shelter, and the walls that had served to protect the wizards and witches had then prevented them from fleeing.

"What are those?" A young witch asked, panting and pointing her wand at another batch of earth that seemed to move.

"Abominations," Albus answered. He didn't expand on that, even though he was familiar with them. Herpo the Foul had experimented with Inferi and possession, but it had been Gellert who had managed to merge two of the most corrupt Dark Arts. Albus had hoped that the knowledge had died with Gellert's inner circle in 1946, but apparently, Tom had either discovered the process, or created his own. He forced the memories this sight brought up away; he had to focus on the fight.

And with the way the abominations had appeared right in the middle of the Wands and Albus' friends, the professor couldn't use his spells effectively to deal with them. At least someone had managed to cast Fiendfyre on the Dark Lord's house; something was going according to plan.

Albus turned the earth the next monster was trying to break through into stone, then set the trapped thing on fire. He kept an eye on the house, so he was ready when the doors opened and the Death Eaters sallied forth. A few conjured stone walls hemmed them in, driving the first row into his next fire whip, but that wouldn't hold them for long. Albus's forces had to rally, and quickly, or they would be massacred in detail.

He searched the field, cutting another abomination apart, and finally spotted the Wand-Commander, in the midst of a dozen of her forces, next to Sirius. She would serve as the rallying point, he knew. An Amplifying Charm later, his voice rang out over the battlefield. "Rally on the commander!"

The yell was taken up by others, and he could see the battle lines, if they could be called that, starting to shift.

Then his walls were shattered, and the Dark Lord charged at him, followed by his Death Eaters.