Harry Potter: The Forgotten Chronicles- Book 8

Chapter 6

Chapter Six

The battle raged on, a chaotic storm of spells and fire consuming Hogwarts. The once-majestic castle was now a battleground, its walls crumbling under the relentless assault. In the courtyard, students and staff fought desperately against the advancing Death Eaters. Padma Patil fought fiercely beside Neville and Seamus, their spells flashing in the dark night. Professor Sprout, flanked by Kingsley Shacklebolt, cast protective charms over the defenders, her eyes fierce with determination.

Above them, from an upper balcony, Professor Trelawney focused intently on the chaos below. With a forceful flick of her wand, she sent a Death Eater flying through the air. Seamus, dodging a curse, caught sight of her and blinked in amazement. Trelawney, usually so ethereal, now looked like a warrior in her own right.

Dean Thomas engaged in a fierce duel with a Death Eater, both trading spells with deadly precision. Nearby, Luna Lovegood moved with her usual calm grace, stunning a quartet of Death Eaters with effortless ease. One by one, they fell before her, and as she turned, she found Neville behind her, his wand still smoking. He nodded at her, and she returned a small, determined smile.

Amidst the maelstrom of battle, Evelyn, Ron, Harry, and Hermione fought their way through the courtyard, their movements sharp and precise amidst the chaos. The battlefield was a whirlwind of screams, explosions, and blinding flashes of magic. Evelyn's heart pounded heavily, her senses overwhelmed by the relentless sounds of war.

Through the smoke and confusion, Evelyn's gaze fell on Draco, his figure cutting through the chaos. He fought fiercely, side by side with his mother, Narcissa. Their spells combined in a deadly dance, their movements synchronized with grim determination. Seeing Draco amidst the turmoil brought a surge of conflicting emotions—fear, worry, and a pang of something deeper as she watched him fight.

She pushed herself forward, fighting alongside her friends. The air was thick with tension, every breath filled with the acrid scent of smoke and the metallic tang of blood. Evelyn could feel the desperation in the air, the determination of everyone fighting to protect Hogwarts, to protect each other. But the odds seemed insurmountable, the Death Eaters relentless in their assault.

As they pressed on, Hermione suddenly gasped, her eyes widening in horror. Evelyn followed her gaze and saw Lavender Brown collapsing to the ground, her body crumpling like a ragdoll. Blood stained the front of her robes, and just beyond her, Fenrir Greyback loomed, his eyes glinting with a predatory hunger, his lips still glistening with Lavender's blood.

"NO!" Hermione screamed, her voice filled with fury and grief. Her wand snapped up, and with a flash of light, a deafening blast erupted from the tip. The force of the spell struck Greyback square in the chest, lifting him off his feet and sending him crashing to the ground. He hit the earth with a sickening thud and lay there, unmoving.

For a moment, everything seemed to freeze. The battle continued to rage around them, but in that instant, all Evelyn could see was Hermione, standing over Lavender's fallen form, her chest heaving with emotion. Evelyn felt her own grief swell within her, but there was no time to dwell on it. The fight was far from over.

Evelyn reached out, her hand finding Hermione's shoulder. "We have to keep moving," she urged, her voice steady despite the chaos around them. Hermione nodded, blinking back tears as she tore her gaze away from Lavender and rejoined the others.

The group pressed on, their resolve hardening with each step. They couldn't afford to lose anyone else. Ron, Harry, and Hermione were quickly caught in the thick of it, their wands flashing as they engaged the attackers. Ron's face was set in grim determination as he blasted away at the Death Eaters. Hermione, her hair wild and eyes fierce, cast spell after spell, her voice a steady rhythm in the chaos. Harry moved with the skill and precision that came from years of practice, his every movement calculated to survive.