Chapter 137: Chapter 137: All Hallows’ War Part – 1

The Great Hall buzzed with controlled chaos as the last of the younger students vanished through the emergency Floo connections.

“That’s the last of them,” McGonagall reported, her voice taut with barely contained tension. “Every student under seventeen, and those unwilling to fight, have been evacuated. Those who remain—”

“Choose to remain,” Amelia Bones finished grimly. “Their choice, their consequences. I would have preferred to send them all back, but with what’s at stake, every wand is an asset.”

The hall had been transformed into a war room. Maps of Hogwarts floated in mid-air, showing defensive positions marked in blue and potential breach points in red. The house tables had been pushed aside, replaced with a medical station that Madam Pomfrey was organizing with military precision.

In one corner, Sirius Black crouched over a crate with Remus Lupin and the Weasley twins, their voices low and conspiratorial.

“All right,” Sirius said, tapping sections of the map with a charcoal-smudged finger. His tone was quick, clipped, and eager. “We’re not winning this with clean battle lines. We’re winning it by making them hate every step.”

Fred’s grin spread like wildfire. “Music to our ears.”

George mirrored it. “Harmony in chaos.”

Lupin hovered just outside the circle, arms folded too tightly, eyes flicking to the windows where dusk was bleeding out. “You’re certain we shouldn’t clear these with Amelia?”

Sirius looked up with the patience of a man who used to set off fireworks in exam halls. “No.”

“And you’re sure these pranks will work?” Lupin pressed, looking distinctly uncomfortable.

“Positive,” Fred said with a flash of teeth. “Tested them on Death Eaters who thought attacking our shop was a good idea.”

“Every single one was knocked out without us casting a spell,” George added, smug.

“Have some confidence, Moony,” Sirius said. “We’re not here to duel. We’re here to make Voldemort’s army chew glass before they ever see our wands.”

Lupin shifted, the shadow of fear threading his voice. “And if they reach the doors?”

“Then the real fighters do their work,” Sirius replied without judgment. “We just make their job easier.”

—

Across the hall, Amelia Bones stood with Alastor Moody, Rufus Scrimgeour, and Kingsley Shacklebolt, reviewing their battle plans one final time.

“Aurors hold the main doors,” Moody growled, his magical eye spinning wildly. “Hit Wizards take the towers for aerial defense. We’ve got maybe three hundred wands total.”

“Against how many?” Kingsley asked quietly.

“Intelligence suggests at least five hundred Death Eaters and allies,” Scrimgeour replied, his face grim. “Plus the creatures. Giants, werewolves, dementors…”

“The acromantulas have joined them,” Moody added. “Hagrid’s heartbroken, but not surprised. They only ever tolerated Hogwarts because of Aragog.”

“Any word from the French?” Amelia asked.

“A contingent under Delacour on the far ridge,” Scrimgeour said. “They’ll pinch if the line bends. Don’t expect finesse.”

“Finesse is a luxury,” Amelia said flatly. “Tonight, we don’t lose the school.”

—

Harry Potter stood on one of the castle’s balconies, Susan Bones pressed against his side, surrounded by what remained of the DA—those old enough to stay and brave enough to fight.

“This is mental,” Ron muttered, his freckles standing out starkly against his pale face. “Absolutely mental.”

“We’ve faced Death Eaters before,” Hermione said, though her voice wavered. “We can do it again.”

“Yes, but this is different. A whole other scale,” Neville murmured. He was no longer the round-faced boy afraid of his own shadow; he stood taller now, his voice steady despite the words. “This is war.”

“We’re ready,” Harry said with more confidence than he felt. “This is what we have trained for.”

Susan squeezed his hand. “You don’t have to duel him alone, you know. We could all—”

“No.” Harry’s tone was firm. “That is my battle. I won’t allow anyone to intervene.”

“But—”

“Don’t worry,” Harry said softly. “I will win. Trust me.”

Before Susan could respond, Sirius appeared, Amelia at his side.

“Everyone to positions,” Amelia ordered. “It’s starting.”

The DA scattered, but Harry lingered. Sirius approached, recognizing the look on his godson’s face.

“You alright, pup?”

“I can’t beat him,” Harry admitted quietly once they were alone. “I know everyone expects me to, but Sirius… he’s Voldemort. I’m just—”

“The kid who’s survived him more times than anyone else alive,” Sirius interrupted. “Harry, you’ve faced him at eleven, twelve, fourteen, and fifteen. Each time you’ve walked away and he’s lost something.”

“That was luck—”

“That was you.” Sirius gripped Harry’s shoulders. “Look, I know you’re scared. Good. Fear keeps you sharp. But here’s something that might help.” He smiled slightly. “I saw Arthur yesterday.”

Harry’s head snapped up. “You did?”

“Tried to convince him to help, actually. He refused, the stubborn bastard. But you know what he said? He said you’d win. No doubt, no hesitation. Just complete certainty that Harry Potter would defeat Voldemort tonight.”

“Arthur said that?” Some of the tension eased from Harry’s shoulders.

“He did. And when has Arthur ever been wrong?”

“Never,” Harry admitted, then looked around. “Is he here?”

Sirius glanced toward the highest tower. “Knowing him? He’s got the best seat in the house, probably with snacks and wine, ready to watch the show.”

Despite everything, Harry laughed. “That sounds like him.”

“Go on,” Sirius nudged him toward the Astronomy Tower. “Take your position. And Prongslet? Your parents would be so proud of who you’ve become.”

—

Arthur Hayes sat in a conjured leather armchair atop the tallest tower of Hogwarts, a mahogany side table holding an excellent vintage wine and various snacks. The view was perfect—he could see the entire grounds, the Forbidden Forest, and the lake spread out like a tactical map.

“Master should not be here,” Winky said for the fifth time, appearing with fresh provisions.

“And miss the season finale? Absolutely not.” Arthur adjusted his omnioculars, enchanted to see through darkness and minor concealment charms. “This is history in the making, Winky.”

“Master’s friends could die.”

“They could,” Arthur agreed, pouring himself another glass. “But they and the wizarding world won’t learn anything if I save them. The wizarding world needs this wake-up call.”

“Master is cold.”

“Master is practical. There’s a difference. So, I hear you’re leading the house-elves in battle?”

“Winky will. Winky will do Master’s job for him. Defeat the bad wizards.”

“Winky is a greater… elf than me.”

She huffed and vanished just as movement stirred in the Forbidden Forest.

“And here they come,” Arthur murmured, leaning forward with interest.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep