The Talisman of Monguk

Chapter 22: On the Fields of Marshwood

Angela awoke. Lupin sat on the edge of the bed by her side, breaking a large chocolate bar into pieces. She looked over his shoulder at her surroundings, trying to recall how she got here. Her eyes traveled over the old four poster bed, the antique wardrobe with the clawed feet, and the wizard portraits on the walls. The bedroom looked only vaguely familiar to her. She glanced up at Lupin with an expression of bewilderment.

"Where am I?" she asked.

"You're in one of the bedrooms at Grimmauld Place," Lupin answered, smiling at her. "You fainted when the dementors attacked. I brought you here."

Angela gasped with alarm, suddenly recalling the mission to the catacombs and the dementor attack in the Underground station. She started to rise from the bed, but his gentle hand reached for her shoulder and held her back.

"Here, take some of this," he said, handing her a piece of chocolate. "It'll help."

She took a bite of the chocolate and laid her head back on the pillow. A comforting sensation filled her and she did feel better. Still resting on the pillow, she questioned him.

"And the dementors? What happened to them?"

"Your Patronus chased them away," he replied with a warm smile.

"My Patronus?" Her eyes widened with disbelief.

"Yes, well, yours and mine together," Lupin replied with an encouraging look. "Then you fainted and I carried you here."

"And the talisman?" she inquired.

"After I got you settled, I delivered it to Dumbledore," he said. "He has it now."

She smiled blithely and rejoined, "Then we are saved!"

Slowly the smile faded from her face, as she remembered the others still left behind in the cathedral. A crease appeared on her brow.

"And what about the others? What happened to them?"

"There were a few cuts and bruises," Lupin answered. "But they all returned in one piece. Kingsley let the box slip out of his coat, when he thought we'd had enough time to escape. The Death Eaters grabbed it and ran, thinking that they had the talisman. Apparently, they didn't think to check inside. I wouldn't want to be in their shoes, when Voldemort opens that box and finds one of the Weasley's insulting badges inside." He chuckled at the thought.

Angela giggled and smiled up at him.

"Father Boniface was fairly upset when he saw what the boys did to the cathedral," he continued with a frown. "They had to stay and clean it up before morning services. And that was nothing compared to Molly Weasley. I'm surprised that you didn't hear her. It took all five of us, but we finally got her to calm down, when we explained how helpful their joke shop improvisations really were, especially the tar pit. Thanks to the boys, those three Death Eaters have been apprehended. Ministry Aurors arrived to haul them off to Azkaban a short time ago. That's three less for the battle."

A worried look flashed across Angela's face at the mention of the impending war. Lupin furrowed his brow and paused, thinking. Then he handed her another piece of chocolate and took one himself.

"What time is it?" she asked, attempting to rise.

"It's almost dawn," he replied, looking very tired. "Why don't you rest for a little while longer and then I'll take you home. We've both had enough excitement for one night."

Angela sank back down into the bed. His hand caressed her cheek and his fingers brushed across her lips. A wistful smile appeared on his face. Then he stood up, extinguished the light, and left the room.

Angela's head rested on the pillow. Her arms gathered the covers around her, imagining herself back in his embrace. She closed her eyes and drifted off into blissful slumber.

* * * * * * * * * * *

One day later, a meeting of the Order was called. As Angela was still feeling somewhat ill, she stayed home. Lupin promised to visit her after the meeting to give her any news. She was fixing their dinner, when a green flash filled the fireplace and Lupin stepped out of it into her apartment. As he entered, he said nothing, meeting her eyes with a melancholy gaze. He plopped himself down in a chair at the small kitchen table. He looked tired. She sensed immediately that something had not gone well. She left her cooking, dried her hands on her apron, and sat down facing him.

"What is it?" she asked with concern.

"The goblins refuse to fight," he answered. Lupin didn't look at her, but stared straight ahead. "Dumbledore offered them the talisman, but they refuse to join our side. They won't fight on either side. They've chosen neutrality."

"But if we have the talisman," Angela protested, "can't we force them to fight for us?"

"We could," he replied. "And that is precisely what Minister Fudge wants to do, but Dumbledore will not. He will not enslave them to our will. That, he reasoned, would make us no better than Voldemort. And I have to agree." His eyes stared over at her with a despairing look.

"So where does that leave us?" she asked, knitting her brow.

"We are outnumbered three to one," he said with a tone of resignation in his voice. "We mobilize for war tomorrow. We meet the enemy on the fields of Marshwood."

"But we'll be slaughtered," she lamented. Her eyes brimmed with tears.

She watched as Lupin's brow furrowed. His strong jaw tightened. His eyes flashed with grim determination.

"I will die either way," he said. "If I fight, I will die on the battlefield. If I refuse, then Voldemort and his followers will kill me. I would rather perish fighting this evil."

"And you're not afraid to die?" she asked, an expression of trepidation on her own face.

"There are worse things than death," he replied. His blue-gray eyes met hers with a yearning look. "At least in death, I will be free of this accursed lycanthropy. And I don't believe that death is the end of things. I have hope that I will see my friends again."

"Then I will go and die with you," she resolved.

Lupin stared into her eyes. His expression softened. He shook his head.

"No, you must stay," he informed her. "Dumbledore has assigned you to Grimmauld Place on the supply line. Molly Weasley and your mother will be there with you. You will be safe there. And Dumbledore can reach you there with messages from the battlefield."

"But why can't I go with you?"

"Your brothers are both fighting in this battle," he explained with a sympathetic look. "If the worst happens, someone must be left to protect your mother. Your family connections place her in danger."

"But..." she protested.

Words failed her. She stared down at the table with her hand clamped over her mouth and tears streaming down her cheeks. Life was so unfair. How could this happen? She had just gotten Remus back and now fortune was snatching him away again. If only she could go to battle with him. To die with him would be a kinder fate than being left behind, alone, without him. At least in death, she hoped to be with him for all eternity.

She glanced over at Lupin. The streaks of gray in his sandy hair seemed more pronounced now. The creases in his brow grew deeper. He wore the cares of this world in every line of his face. She stared into his eyes, those blue-gray eyes that now glistened like hardened steel. She resolved to put up a brave front for his sake.

Her lips clamped tightly shut, stifling her sobs. The back of her hand wiped the tears from her cheek. She stood up and mechanically resumed preparing their dinner, burying her emotions in the busyness of the task. She had made this recipe many times before. Surely, she could manage it tonight.

Her hand poured olive oil into the cast-iron skillet and raised the flame. When the oil was hot, she added onions and garlic and sautéed them, stirring briskly until the vegetables were tender. Her fingers added the ground meat and other ingredients. The impending battle invaded her thoughts, uninvited and unwanted. Distracted, she'd forgotten an ingredient. What was it? Parsley? Oregano? Her hand wandered to her forehead. The contents of the pan hissed. The flame was too hot. She turned down the heat and just stood, staring helplessly, unable to continue.

Lupin watched her, studying her every motion. He got up and walked to her side.

"Let me help you," he said.

His hand took the spoon from her with a gentle tug. He stood beside her and stirred the contents of the pan. Angela recovered herself and resumed cooking. They worked silently side by side for a several minutes. She brushed against him, while adding the oregano. She lingered at his side, longing to remain in the comforting warmth of his presence. Her tear-strained face was very near his. She was aware of his gaze burning her cheek.

He dropped the spoon and pulled her into a fervent embrace. She melted into his arms, dissolving into sobs. He took her face into his hands and kissed away her tears. Unheeded on the flames, their dinner burned beyond remedy.

* * * * * * * * * * *

The next morning, the members of the Order of the Phoenix assembled in the kitchen of Grimmauld Place to await further orders from Dumbledore. The usual gloom of the place weighed even heavier today. The members sat or stood waiting. There was none of the usual banter, just an oppressive sorrow. Molly Weasley, surrounded by her husband and four of her five oldest boys, wept hysterically. She paused every now and then to clasp one of her sons to her in a soggy embrace. Angela put her arm around Molly to comfort her.

"Molly, please don't," Angela pleaded, tearing up. "You're going to get me started too."

Lupin put his arm around Molly and took over, talking to her quietly while she continued to sob. Arthur seemed thankful for the help.

"She's been like this all morning," he lamented with a hopeless expression.

Angela gave his shoulder a consolingly pat. Then she spotted her mother and brothers in the crowd and went over to them. They greeted each other with warm hugs. Both Angela and her mother fought back tears now.

Amid this scene, Albus Dumbledore entered, followed by Hagrid and Minerva McGonagall. Instead of his Hogwarts robes, he wore a traveling cloak and carried a staff. Everyone stopped and looked up at him expectantly. Dumbledore surveyed their downcast faces. His expression was solemn, but there was an odd twinkle in his eye.

"Are we ready?" he asked, without a trace of sadness in his voice.

"We?" asked Moody, his bushy eyebrows raised and his magical eye fixed on Dumbledore.

"Of course," Dumbledore replied. "I intend to accompany you. Do you think that I would send you on an impossible mission that I was not prepared to go on myself?"

His statement was met by stunned, but hopeful, looks.

"What about Hogwarts?" Moody rejoined.

"I have left Severus in charge until I return," Dumbledore replied.

"And, Minerva, you will fight too?" Eudora Hawkins asked her old friend.

"Wild dragons couldn't keep me away," McGonagall replied, her thin lips drawn even tighter with steely determination.

Murmurs passed like wildfire through the crowd. The members erupted in cheers and applause, clapping each other on the back with restored spirits. Dumbledore approached Molly and put his hand on her shoulder.

"My dear Molly, do not fret," Dumbledore consoled, with a look of kindness in his piercing blue eyes. "I cannot promise that no harm will come to your family, but I do promise to do everything in my power to bring them back safely. I need you to be brave. Can you do that?"

Molly nodded and dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief. Dumbledore turned to Angela and Eudora.

"Fawkes, my phoenix, will come to you, if you need him," he instructed. "He will deliver messages to me at the front. If I need you, I will send him to you as well. You can reach Severus at Hogwarts through the Floo Network. Failing that, the portrait of Phineas Nigellus in the second bedroom will also work. I may send you on errands, if the need arises. But make sure that at least one of you three remains here at all times."

"Yes, sir," Angela replied.

Dumbledore turned to the members. "Well, then, to battle!"

He took down one of the cauldrons from over the fireplace. He waved his wand over it and uttered "Portus!" The cauldron glowed for a minute and then returned to its normal state. In groups of eight to ten, the members came forward and placed a hand on the cauldron and held tight. Then Dumbledore waved his wand and they all disappeared from the room. A few minutes later, Dumbledore and the cauldron returned to Grimmauld Place to transport another group to the battlefields of Marshwood.

Angela went to Lupin's side. "Wait!" she pleaded, reaching for him. She removed the satin ribbon from her hair and tied it around his right arm. "It's for good luck."

She gazed up at him, studying every feature of his face. His hair, shades of siena flecked with gray around his temples. And those blue-gray eyes tinged with sorrow like a summer sky over London, where even the sunniest days hold a promise of rain. He smiled at her, that wonderful intoxicating smile. She would miss that most of all. Her green eyes filled with tears again. She blinked to hold them back. She threw her arms around his neck. They exchanged an impassioned kiss and then embraced.

"Remus, I love you," she whispered, as they clung to each other.

"And I love you," he replied.

He buried his face in the soft curls now falling loosely over her shoulders. She could feel his breath against her neck and the warmth of his cheek against hers. Then he pulled away, gathered up his pack, and set off to battle without looking back.

Now only Angela, Molly, and Eudora remained in the kitchens of Grimmauld Place. It was oddly quiet after the events of the morning. Overcome with emotion, Angela sank into a chair, dropped her head into her arms, and wept. Her mother put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

"There now, dear," Eudora encouraged. "We must try to keep up our spirits. With Albus Dumbledore, there is always hope. Come now, I'll put on some tea."

* * * * * * * * * * *

Marshwood was a large plain in the north, surrounded by verdant hills. The armies of the Resistance gathered at one end of the plain. In addition to the members of the Order, there were many witches and wizards recruited by the Ministry, including many Aurors. There was also a ragtag band of werewolves noticeably more shabbily dressed than the other wizards. The few giants that also joined towered over the others. Led by Dumbledore, they marched onto the fields to face their opposition.

From across the plain, they could see the armies of Voldemort advancing toward them. At the head was Bellatrix Lestrange, arrayed like a queen for battle. Behind her arranged in battalions were hoards of witches, wizards, hags, and banshees. A masked Death Eater led each battalion. Behind these warriors were the dementor hoards, legions of them. In the rear were the giants, standing like a mountain range on the edge of the plains.

The entire plain trembled as the Dark Lord's army approached. The hags and banshees shrieked, uttering howls that made blood run cold and bones melt with fear. A disheartening chill permeated the air from the dementors. Some of the wizards in Voldemort's camp marched with vacant stares, as if under a trance. Others cowered, driven onward by the grim sight of the dementors behind them.

The two armies stopped in the middle of the plain, facing each other. Bellatrix Lestrange surveyed Dumbledore's forces before her and laughed haughtily. She addressed Dumbledore.

"You come against us with this meager band of misfits?" she taunted. "You know that you cannot win against the forces of the Dark Lord. Surrender to us now and save yourselves humiliation and painful death."

"Where is your master?" Dumbledore retorted, his formidable blue eyes flashing. "He does not see fit to lead his own armies?"

Bella cackled. "There is no need for him to come," she scoffed. "We are stronger. Our victory is assured."

"Bella, the future is never certain," Dumbledore replied, the odd twinkle back in his eyes. "Have you learned nothing from the past? How is it that a child should defeat a powerful wizard? No, life is by its very nature unpredictable."

Bella scowled at him. She tossed her head. Her chin jutted out like that of a petulant child. Her teeth were clenched.

Dumbledore looked past her to the troops arrayed behind her. He spoke again, but this time to them. His visage was terrible and awesome with just the slightest hint of kindness concealed behind the steely gaze. "You have a choice," he said, his voice ringing over the troops. "Turn away from this darkness, while there is yet time. We will never surrender to evil."

A rustling stirred through the ranks of Voldemort's forces. Several soldiers glanced around with fearful looks, but no one deserted. The forces of the Resistance faced them with steadfast expressions, unflinching in their determination to fight, although they were impossibly outnumbered.

Bella stared at Dumbledore, arrogant and unyielding. Her imperious finger jabbed onto the air and swept in an arc in front of her, pointing at their line of defense. She threw her head back and laughed. Then she raised her wand high above her head.

"Then you have sealed your doom!" Bella shouted, plunging her arm down with a slashing motion. "Engage!"

The battle began. The two armies surged forward, engaging each other in combat. Volley after volley of curses flew from wands like arrows over the troops. With each volley, wizards on both sides were hit and fell to the ground.

The dementors pressed forward to engorge themselves on the emotions of the throng, siphoning any good feeling from all those around them. Despair spread among the combatants. Dumbledore raised his staff and a protective shimmering barrier surrounded his troops, holding the dementors at bay.

The giants thundered forward through the ranks, swinging their clubs and trampling many in their own army. Members of the Resistance tried to stun them, but their hexes bounced off with no effect. Dumbledore raised his wand, conjured a huge fireball, and hurled it at the closest giant. The fiery sphere hit. The giant burst into flames and fell with a resounding crash. Those nearby scattered for cover to avoid being burned or crushed under the weight of the behemoth.

When she saw what he had done, Bella shrieked with fury and uttered a curse. A flaming javelin streaked toward Dumbledore. Minerva McGonagall saw it coming and met it with a curse of her own. The javelin became a fire-breathing dragon. The dragon turned and flew back toward Voldemort's troops, scorching all in its path. Bella hit the dragon with a hex and it exploded in a shower of ash. Bella's eyes narrowed dangerously as she turned to face McGonagall, preparing to duel.

Lupin and Moody turned back to back and fought their attackers. A banshee swooped toward Lupin, her long black hair trailing behind her. She wailed eerily, her skeletal face with mouth wide open emitting a debilitating, ear-splitting shriek. "Silencio!" Lupin's spell hit, rendering her mute. Her eyes bulged with surprise and she clutched at her throat. Lupin struck with another curse and she fell to the ground.

A Death Eater kicked her prone form aside and took her place against Lupin. With a slashing motion, this attacker sent a curse winging toward Lupin. It hit with a glancing blow on his right shoulder. Lupin winced with pain, clutching his arm. With a dogged look, he retaliated with a strike that hit the Death Eater hard, knocking him off his feet. Not so easily discouraged, the Death Eater got up and challenged him again.

Kingsley, as usual, took on two opponents at once. He moved so quickly that his wand was a blur as he fought. He dodged between his two attackers. They both aimed curses at him simultaneously. In the nick of time, he ducked. Both hexes flew over his head. Instead of hitting Kingsley, the two wizards hit each other. They both fell to the ground stunned. Immediately, a third wizard took their place.

Hagrid, not being a fully qualified wizard, was more comfortable fighting with his fists. Being half-giant, he was very difficult to stun with spells. No opponent who dared get within arms reach of him was safe, as one unfortunate attacker discovered. When hit by the spell, Hagrid howled with anger and pain. He lunged at his opponent, grabbed him by the front of his robes, and lifted him off his feet. With a mighty roar, Hagrid heaved the warlock toward the enemy lines. The unfortunate wizard flew through the air and landed with such force that he took down three others with him. In the next second, Hagrid was hit from behind by a hex. He bellowed with rage and spun to face this new assailant.

With the Death Eaters engaged, Dumbledore was able to keep the dementors and the giants at bay. The contest was now more evenly matched. Thus the battle raged on, until fatigue began to take its toll.

As twilight approached, the forces of Voldemort's army pulled back. The regiments at the rear siphoned off first, retreating toward their encampment. The regiments immediately in front of them followed suit, fleeing away like grains of sand through the waist of an hourglass.

When the members of the Resistance saw the retreat, they cheered and surged forward to attack their fleeing foes. In their enthusiasm, they drove a wedge right into the midst of the enemy army. But then the enemy battalions on either side closed in upon them like the jaws of giant beast devouring its prey. Dumbledore realized too late that it was a trap. They were surrounded by the opposition.

The fighting on both sides intensified. But the members of the Resistance fought harder, spurred on by a fatalistic bravery. For them, death seemed inevitable and therefore fear no longer held sway over them. With incantation and fist, they drove the forces of the Dark Lord back.

As darkness fell, Voldemort's army fled in retreat to the shelter of their own tents, a camp protected by enchantments. An unseen barrier surrounded their encampment. Voldemort's soldiers could pass through it at will, but all others were struck down and killed if they strayed too near.

Seeing the flight of their enemies, Dumbledore commanded his own army to fall back as well. The members of the Resistance returned to their camp exhausted, but relieved that they had survived and hopeful that they might yet taste victory. They collected their dead and wounded from the battlefield. Dumbledore had created two more Portkeys similar to the cauldron that he had used at headquarters. Using them, they transported the seriously injured to St. Mungo's for treatment and delivered the dead to the morgue.

The troops nursed their wounds and took refreshment and rest to recoup their strength. Dumbledore took stock of his forces. This last foray had cost them more lives than they had lost the whole day. But still they had sustained fewer casualties than anticipated. And their success in battle heartened the remaining fighters.

Lupin stayed with several other members of the Order in one tent. He was cut and bruised, but still in reasonable spirits. He and Kingsley were discussing strategies for the next encounter, when they heard screams of fright and agony coming from the battlefield. They ran out of their tent and stared across the plains of Marshwood. In the distance, they could see an enormous bonfire. Against the backdrop of the hellish flames, they saw hundreds of dementors descending onto the battlefield like birds of prey to feast on the bodies of the fallen. Voldemort's troops had not bothered to remove their own dead and wounded from the battlefield. Witches and wizards too badly injured to make their own way back to the camp were left lying in torment on the hard-trampled earth. Those vultures, the dementors, hovered among them, picking through the carcasses. They threw the corpses into the bonfire. On all others, the dementors administered their deadly kiss.

The members of the Order stared at the scene before them with horror and disbelief. They could see wounded wizards struggle vainly to ward off the vile creatures and then succumb in the clawed grasp of the dementors. Their terrified cries and pleading pierced the night air and penetrated the hearts of those watching. Moved by indignation and pity, Lupin drew his wand and rushed forward to help. Several others prepared to follow, when Dumbledore intervened.

"No, Remus!" Dumbledore commanded. "You cannot help them now. There are too many dementors and we need you to save your strength for other battles."

His eyes were still fixed on the grisly scene, but Lupin obeyed his commander and returned to the tent. Inside, Tonks sobbed. Paul, who sat nearby, put his arm around her to comfort her. This time, she did not push him away. Lupin looked down at the ribbon on his arm. It was stained with his own blood. He ran his fingers over it. Then he took out a quill and a scrap of parchment and began a letter to Angela.