Harry Potter and the Magical Wands

Chapter 16: The Battle of ages

The sixth year Gryffindors were walking together in a single group, like they had done pretty much since the foundation of the HA. The wizarding world was watching the 'muggle' world and giving it an importance which it hadn't received by wizard-folk since the Inquisition in the Dark Ages.

Life at Hogwarts had practically returned to what it was like before Harry left, with a small set of variations. The classes once again got harder, showing the teacher's sadistic streak, but there was a selected group of students who had no problem to understand the complex transfiguration graphs, to perform the weird wand movements and strange pronunciations in the new and obscure spells in Charms, to follow the precise instructions required for a successful potions making, understanding the grammar and semantic subtleties required for a successful translation in Ancient Runes or taking into account the feelings of a creature when treating it with the exactitude of emphats: the Fallen, as Blaise Zabini, one of the Slytherins in the HA, had began to call the members of this group. It quickly became a complete success in all the members circles all around the world (meaning Scotland and France) and since that memorable night the Fallen, members of the HA, had walked the halls of Hogwarts and Beauxbatons, lurking around and growing in power until the time was right. So they waited. And they trained.

The drive of doing something which they believed was right, and their ecstasy at every new fruit of the dedication they gave to magic made them advance fast, faster than the Ministry would have been proper or even possible for their age, or any age, for the matter. After the Supernatural event in the Great Hall, and the reminder that magic was far more than just knowing a lot of spells received by it, so the Room of Requirements was pushed to it's limit, by becoming a full sized, fully equipped dueling arena, library, training ground and field simulator. They were aware that they had been leaving many clues, so the investigating shift was focusing in creating password and identity protected portkeys from the common rooms to the hall in the seventh floor.

They had already developed two methods, but Hermione had rejected the pair of them, claiming that they were too simple to discover, and since they were 'trespassing both school rules and the law' they had to leave no track for their pursuers to follow. Their time researching Malfoy's body hadn't been in vane, since they (finally) had proof that Harry had been framed, but they couldn't just barge into the Ministry with their results in their hands claiming that Harry was innocent without admitting that they had stolen confidential and probably Top Secret Ministry material.

They would all be in Azkaban having a chat with the Dementors before they could finish their first sentence. Not that they would last very long in there, once their French Branch found out. It was an exhilarating feeling knowing that your had the power to be over the law with the help from your loyal and trustworthy friends and in some cases lovers, but the Fallen tended to ignore it, since they still held at least some basic respect to the government and the rules which were necessary to live in an organized society without destroying themselves.

They weren't trying to overthrow the Ministry, or least of all to conquer the world, they were people determined to both fight the threat of Voldemort and his Death Eaters and demonstrate the innocence of Harry Potter. Some Slytherins saw the obvious source of power and joined for the training, but despite their best attempts, they had been convinced of the HA ideals. Their willpower to go with their ideals to the last instances hadn't been tested, but they soon would be.

It just wasn't their time right now.

But it was time for Transfiguration, with professor Macgonagall. Gryffindor was on the lead for the House cup, the main reason being that the older years, the ones that usually lost most house points, took a sharp turn to responsibility, and the new thirst for knowledge they seemed to get since Harry's official prosecution was showing in higher grades and more house points being awarded to them. Even Neville, usually the last in the grading from Gryffindor, had stopped losing house points during class for not knowing questions from the teachers. Even Snape had a hard time taking away points from them (for fair reasons, anyway), since they acted with a care and devious cunning that would ironically turn many a Slytherin green with envy, and their homework was done with such a care that Snape finally gave in and awarded Neville an E for his essay explaining why the Draught of the Living Death used the ingredients it did and needed the steps it did to be brewed.

Professor Macgonagall watched as the class filled in the seats from the front to the back, a custom that began (with so many things) with the attempt to capture Harry Potter and Fleur Delacour in Beauxbatons. The entire staff had noticed the sudden interest for any knowledge that they gave the students, and that even if the Library had recorded an increase in the book drawing, the students seemed to improve much faster than the rule. If this was limited to one or two students it would be no problem, and it would be blamed to personal dedication and innate talent, but the fact that it was the entire sixth year Gryffindor class and most of their year was, was eye catching.

As usual, the entire class had mastered the spell she taught them for the class within thirty minutes, then she explained the theory behind it, just before teaching a second spell, one much more difficult to master and that the Ministry had labeled NEWT level, but the entire class had mastered it by the end of the period. She assigned them one roll each of parchment on the spells fully knowing that the Gryffindors would probably score straight O's, even Neville Longbottom and Pavarti Patil, two of her worst students before the failed attempt at Potter's capture.

The Headmaster had developed a clone to the Marauders Map with the help of Remus Lupin and Sirius Black, but it showed nothing weird in the night, and even the couples sneaking out to 'know each other better' seemingly disappeared.

This puzzled the teachers specially, seeing as somehow Harry Potter's rebellion had sparked a rule following part of the students they didn't know about, when they were expecting the perfect opposite. The teacher who had seen less improvement in his students was Sybil Trelawny, but that was to be expected. Minerva Macgonagall only knew one thing for sure: The next time He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named attacked Hogwarts he would get one hell of a surprise.

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It was time for him to leave with Fleur to school.

After finally accepting that it was something unavoidable, he said good bye to his mother and left, his sister in tow. The walk to the school passed so fast that Harry was sure his watch had somehow broken, since he only felt two of the forty minutes it said that had passed. He had of course remembered leaving the neighborhood, and then watching the streets pass by, but he had been dreading being inside the school for some reason he couldn't phantom. Maybe it was the half dead owl they had found after their adoptive mother told them about school (currently at the best veterinarian they could find) but he was uneasy about going to the school. He wasn't sure if he was extra-sensorial uneasy, or just intimidated by a new environment, but the fact was that he is uneasy.

He walked into the school campus, Fleur half a step behind him, following a random direction. He got into the main school building, bent on looking for his classroom and making sure his days would pass quickly before going back to his house, his refuge, keeping an eye out for any obstacles. He was half specting to kick the ass of whatever local bully judged him as a target.

In that very moment he saw a group of girls watching him and giggling in turns, and he was sure one of them blushed when he glanced her way. Needless to say, his uneasiness immediately disappeared, and he began to make his way to them when he was intercepted by an old looking woman dressed in what seemed to be a dress from the early twentieth century and a lab coat.

-Mister Potter and Mademoiselle Delacour, I believe?, she asked

Fighting the sigh that threatened to escape, Harry answered –Yes we are, ma'am.

-You will address me as Madame Claudette. Follow me, she said turning around and walking away without glancing back.

Harry did as he was told, and he was almost sure he heard Fleur chuckle at his long face. The woman led them through several hallways and stairs to a fancy wooden door with the word 'HEADMASTER' engraved in flowing, curvy letters.

-The Headmaster is waiting for you, said Madam Claudette, and left.

Harry looked at Fleur in the eye for reassurance, and saw her doing exactly the same. For some weird reason, it reassured him, and seemed to do the same to Fleur. He wondered if he and Fleur were really brothers.

He straightened his back, and opened the door. On the desk sat a very tall black skinned man dressed in a gray business suit, looking at them intently.

Remembering from somewhere (most likely a TV show, a movie or a videogame) that confidence makes a good impression, he allowed a small smile to appear in his face. He had to make sure that his show of confidence wasn't mistaken with arrogance or cockiness, anyway, so he kept his smile small.

- Welcome, mister Potter, miss Delacour, please sit down- said the man. His voice was deep, and Harry was reminded of several American Hip-Hop and Rap artists he had heard in the radio. He usually kind of related to the supposed tales of life in the streets and hating his fame for some reasons, but he was at a loss as to why, since he was amnesic. He guessed it had to do with his previous life.

That was another question, the fact that English came surprisingly easy to them, learning to speak, write and read in the language in the outstanding time of twenty seconds. Did that mean that he was English, Australian, American or from New Zealand?, or he was just smart enough to be fluent in a second language?

-Welcome to Saint Charles. My name is Michael Ferro, the Headmaster of this institution.- He briefly read an immaculately white sheet of paper. He must have liked what he saw, because his expression turned kinder and more polite as he finished.- Your introductory test results are excellent, so I hope that you will be comfortable in my school. As you know, this school has only three years of history, but we already have a reputation to hold, but watching these scores...I'm sure that you will raise to challenge. Professor Grenier, who is waiting for you outside my office, will arrange your schedule and show you to your classes. If you have any question school related you can approach anyone of my staff.-

Sensing the finality in the Director's voice, Harry stood up. - Thank you, sir.- Outside the office, a still gorgeous middle aged woman was waiting for them, though Harry though that she couldn't compare to his sister's beauty.

The woman, Professor Grenier, was polite and friendly, but she took her position very seriously and only spoke to them about the school and her position in it. By the time they had finished their tour around the school, the first class had ended, and by the time that they had finished their schedules the second class was over as well.

The first week of classes passed like a blur to Harry, who had fitted in the school much faster than he would have thought. Within two classes he had gotten himself a group of about four boys and nine girls who shared all his classes and seemed to follow him everywhere. Since the classes consisted of about fifty students each, he had roughly a quarter of every class as his 'Inner Circle' of friends. His Inner Circle, because for some reason Harry couldn't fathom, practically everyone he met, bar the Headmaster and Madame Claudette seemed to be drawn to him almost magically.

From what he knew Fleur got a similar welcome, even if she was placed in more advanced classes because of her age. The result was that while Harry just breezed through his homework, Fleur had to actually work on it, something that Harry had reminded her of daily before he was chased around the house by a very angry silvery blonde sibling.

Today he and his friends were going to the cinema, to see a new movie which had just came out in French, Independence Day.

They had to take the bus to the cinema, so they were to meet at the bus station near the school. Fleur was going on a shopping spree with her female friends, since she said that her male friends gave her the creeps when they just spaced out leering at her (ignoring the fact that they were too polite and charming to actually stare, and that they settled for watching her in awe). The mall and the theater Harry was going to weren't that far away from each other, so Fleur was with him until she left to meet her friends.

Harry had been surprised that his mother (He had begun to think of Yvette that way, even if he was certain that she wasn't his biological mother, or that much older than him, anyway) had let them go so easily, but he figured that since she was so young she understood how they thought.

That was the last thing on his mind, when he rounded the corner and saw his girlfriends. They were wearing their favorite clothes, which meant that they were wearing practically no clothes at all, with little make-up and the occasional piece of jewelry, specially earrings and navel-piercings.

Pushing back the urge to give into his primal instincts, Harry joined them.

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The dinner at the Great Hall had been a tense affair because the remains of the famous trio had just lost sixty points each in the Potions class for hexing Snape and Malfoy. Nobody knew what had gone inside the Headmaster's office, but after they had gone outside, Snape had seemed even angrier at everyone, especially his beloved Slytherins. Hogwarts houses were all on zeros because the resident Potions Master had become quite liberal in taking points. The time Snape didn't spent in his classes, he had spent in his room. Not that it was much, since the Potions class in question had been that morning, which only attested to the Potions Master's ire.

Ron and Hermione were sitting at their usual places in the Gryffindor table. The couple had become silent and reserved, going everywhere silently. Nobody in their year had spoken to them in the entire day, and they hadn't seemed to care.

Suddenly, all the candles on the Great Hall began to flash red, and the typical alarm sound began filled everyone's ears. A toneless, robotic voice spoke reaching everyone's ears.

'RED ALARM. RED ALARM. SEVENTY DEATH EATERS DETECTED INSIDE PERIMETER 5. ETA (A/N Estimated time of arrival) TO PERIMETER 4 ESTIMATED IN SIXTY SECONDS. ALL CIVILIAN UNITS PROCEED TO THEIR COMMON ROOMS. ALL NON-CIVILIAN PERSONAL IN SIEGE POSITIONS. RED ALARM. RED ALARM. ONE HUNDRED DEATH EATERS DETECTED INSIDE PERIMETER 5. ETA TO PERIMETER 4 ESTIMEATED IN FORTY SECONDS. ALL CIVILIAN...'

The voice thing had been an idea of Dean, who had watched many movies and chapters of the muggle TV show, Star Trek. The charms they had placed all around the school were linked to a variation of the sonorus charm that would say preprogrammed things about the information they received from the detectors. Over the week, they had linked all their surveillance spells with a set of Protean charms that Hermione, and a selected group of Fallen(only seventh years), could cast.

The students followed the instructions of the voice quickly, believing that such a warning could only come from the staff.

Their traps had been also linked by means of Protean charms, and all the Protean charms were linked to a central piece of self updating and self duplicating parchment, where all the information from the detectors was displayed, and from where all the traps could be activated, if the person managing the trap was powerful enough. Those who couldn't cast the Protean charm had used the week in placing the traps and enchanting their battle and siege positions.

The major problem is that their whole system needed a constant inflow of magic. Without it would crumble like a card house. And it was no use for long term defense, since the charms and traps would cease to be effective after six or seven months, and they didn't know how the spells would react to being re-casted. With their progress so far, most Fallen were confident that they would design an improved, longer lasting system by that time.

But the most important thing was that the if the system worked, and it did. Most of the teachers looked curious and wary, except for Dumbledore, who looked like he had just been gifted a dozen pair of socks for his birthday, as usual.

The Fallen, meanwhile, had activated a group of dormant charms, and Hermione had produced the main control piece of parchment out of thin air. Ron and Hermione had been named commanders of their little army by general consent, but they weren't leaders literally. They were more like the people who took decisions, and whose opinions mattered more than the rest. Leaders indeed, but at the same time not quite. A list of replacements had been named should either of them be missing, dead or unfit to continue, but they had been the leaders from the start, and their every order and request was complied without question.

Ron and Hermione, earlier that day, had divided themselves responsibilities: Ron would take command of direct in-the-battle strategy and Hermione would organize logistics, which spells or stuff they would do and basically command the war as a whole, while Ron fought the actual battles. Since the actual "war" against Voldemort was kind of a spy-war of information gathering, Hermione thought she have gotten the bulk of it.

Ron ended the disillusionment and notice-me-not charms they had placed on some platforms, and the Fallen climbed on them and added from their own magic to the levitating charms on them, which raised them to the level of the windows.

Everyone took out their wands and pointed them outside or began charging magic to activate the traps. They didn't know if it work, not really, and they had practiced dueling and spells against each others, so pretty much every Fallen felt insecure about his or her dueling abilities. After all, they hadn't practiced for fifty on fifty duels when they skirmished against one another.

However, they had the advantage, sine the Death Eaters wouldn't expect any serious fight from anyone other than the seventh years and the staff. That meant they had to somehow half the Death numbers before engaging them in close-quarter battle if they wanted to have a real chance at winning. Their traps were bound to work correctly, but only if used correctly, which meant that they had to use all their traps at once.

Ron, standing on the highest platform with a twin behind each shoulder watched the slowly approaching mass of hooded wizards and witches. He could not distinguish, um...see (Dam Hermione and her big words!!) Voldemort, so they could only hope that the Dark Lord was missing from this attack. He saw the reflection of the moon in one of the white masks of the Death Eaters, and began to felt uneasy.

He wasn't the only one, so he spoke loudly in the silent hall. – Hold!-

The Death Eaters began to walk faster, approaching the perimeter they had filled with traps quickly.

Just as the first line of unformed Death Eaters, Ron spoke again in a loud voice- Hold!-

When almost the entire party had entered their trap zone, Ron yelled the command the Fallen at Logistics had been waiting for, and Hermione and several other students activated their traps.

Less than a second later, the dark robed figures were pelted with a hundred simultaneous hexes and curses. The best and the luckiest of them (members of the Inner Circle) had casted shields in time, but the others were hit with spells that ranged from a simple furnunculus curse (which was harmless in the long way, but very painful to be hit with) to dark bone breakers and corrosive jets (casted by the most experienced of the Slytherins, and surprisingly, Luna Loovegood, a fourth year Ravenclaw with a dreamy attitude). The twins had added some switching spells, which had replaced dozen of wands with their own brand of prank ones.

None of the fallen in the Great Hall's windows casted a curse, all of them aware that the Death Eaters expected to be met only with the staff of the school. Considering that the staff had Albus Dumbledore, dueling champions Minerva Macgonagall, Filius Flitwick, Arabella Figg, Sinous Sinistra, the magically resistant half-giant Rubeus Haqgrid and one of their own, Severus Snape (who was to be hit only with stunners, Orders from the Dark Lord), they had sought safety in numbers and their dark magic.

Ron was static at the scene outside, even if it was disgusting in some cases, since they had incapacitated pretty much eighty Death Eaters. His expression darkened considerably when the alarm sounded, the exact same message as before, only that it added a line about an unknown number of humanoids, and that the number of approaching Death Eaters was one hundred and seven.

-Ron!- yelled someone behind him, over the sound of moaning, screaming and foul word usage from the Death Eaters. He didn't turn around, watching a big number of human shapes appearing after their disillusion spells failed.

-Ron, look at me! It's important!- recognizing the voice as Hermione's, he turned around. – Yeah?-

-The traps are recharging themselves!-

-I know! We made them like that! You made sure of that!

-They are recharging themselves ten times faster than they should!

-What! Hermione, that's great news! There are even more Death Eaters and probably some trolls and vampires coming!

-I know! The traps should be ready again in...!-she checked the master parchment briefly- fifteen seconds!

-Great!- Ron said, and turned around.

In front of him he saw a dark mass approaching the castle, easily doubling their previous platoons in numbers. And it was still growing.

-Shit- he whispered.

- I now- said one of the twins.

-Hermione! Fire the traps are soon as they are ready!- Ron yelled, as he saw that over half the troop of Death Eaters were inside their defensive perimeter, joining the survivors from the first volley of the traps.

-Okay everyone!, slicers on my wicked!- he yelled again.

-Almost there- Hermione yelled back.

-Three! Two! One! WICKED!- yelled the red head, and about forty slicing curses flew towards the mass of darkness aproaching. Fractions of a second before they hit, the traps were fully recharged and Hermione fired them right away.

The Death Eaters, no doubt prevented by the survivors had shield charms at the tip of their tongues and wands, casted shields swiftly after the great number of traps activated again, but it was to late, and many of them fell via the slicers sent by the Fallen. And when the hexes, arrows, knives or curses sprung, they were surprised, because instead of being absorbed into the shield or vanquished, they bounced at a great speed often hitting several shields before hitting a fool whose shield didn't hold or one of the humanoid creatures present, none of them able to cast shields, but with a great deal of physical fortitude, so they remained scratched and battle ready.

Meanwhile, Shinji had left the hall as son as Hermione had activated the traps and went to the first corridor to the left on the third floor. There, he had activated another trap, one that he had installed without telling anyone and that was keyed to him. He activated it and after a second, a big explosion reached his senses, like a wave of warm air coming from within. It was a charm he had found in the library, a mix between a bubble-head charm and a simple incendio surrounding it, but it was rather espectacular, and it served his purpose: air began to join and compress in a single, tiny point, while the fire spell heated it up, that's it, heat it up even more than it naturally does for being so confined.

"Please, crystal, let me out", he said and the obviously magical window opened wide. A simple twitch of his hands and the tiny, tennis-sized ball flew towards the main army. A random flunkie saw it and sent a reducto flying towards it.

A very big and very dumb mistake he wouldn't commit ever again.

BANG

It was a huge explosion, since the ball was already supossed to explode very hard, but the random flunkie also had quite a bit of power, the explosion was so big that the shockwave also hit the castle, sending Shinji flying into the wall and knocking him out.

End of da chapter.

A/N I'm going to finish this fic, cuz I havent's forgotten that it's been like dead for a long time. The fic won't last much longer, just a couple of chapters to wrap it up and let me move on to better ideas.