Rise of the Marauders

Chapter 1

Rushing death filled the air as Harry dove, narrowly avoiding the flash of green that had been aimed at his head before replying with a trio of blasting curses. The three brilliant jets of light flew from his wand, one almost on top of the other, yet his opponent didn't even glance in his direction as he blocked all three and sent a pair of his own back towards the outmatched teen all in a single motion. Unprepared for the quick reply, Harry threw up a shield as he dodged the first, pushing as much energy into it as he could muster. The second curse hit it squarely, sending tremors up his arm and leaving him gasping in pain as it broke through, leaving a gash on his shoulder. Panting heavily, he readied himself for the next volley, only to find it not forthcoming. Instead the dark lord stood across from him, his wand held lazily as he surveyed the three men facing him.

"Well, I must say I am impressed," Voldemort said, studying them as they tried to regain their breath. "Not many wizards have the courage to face me. Even fewer have the skill. You could all go far if you chose to join me instead of pursuing this foolishness." Harry froze in disbelief, unsure whether to try to take advantage of the lull in the fighting by finding a more defensible position or by trying to run for help. Glancing towards Remus and Sirius he decided against the latter and slowly began edging towards a mostly intact column, hoping to use it for cover when the fight resumed.

As he did, Voldemort gestured towards Remus, "Lupin, with my help you could become the most powerful werewolf in the world. I would even let you have your vengeance against Greyback for turning you into to monster you are today," he said. Remus snarled in response, his growl more bestial and threatening than any normal man's, yet Voldemort only seemed amused. "No?" He turned towards Sirius, ignoring the werewolf as if he no longer existed, "What of you, Black? Are you sick of hiding yet? Sick of fighting for people who want nothing more than to feed your soul to a Dementor?" He gestured behind him towards the unconscious form of Bellatrix Lestrange, "Even after so many years in Azkaban, Bellatrix remains one of my most talented followers. A man with your skills could go far amongst-"

Sirius cut him off, "Stick a cork in it, there's nothing you can say that would ever make me even consider joining you." Harry grinned at his godfather's blatant refusal to be intimidated, going glare for murderous glare with the most feared Dark Lord since the days of Slytherin himself.

His grin was short lived however as the Dark Lord turned his attention towards him, causing his pulse to race, "What of you, young Potter? I never thought I would see the day when a student would have the courage to fight me. Even Longbottom ran like a coward the moment he had a chance," he said. Harry looked over his shoulder to where Neville sat, partially hidden behind the remains of the destroyed fountain. His hope of Neville joining the fight faded as he watched the famous Boy-Who-Lived cower in agony at the very presence of his enemy, his wand forgotten at his side. "But not only did you join the fight willingly, you have managed to survive. With the proper training you could become one of the greatest wizards of all time and rule the world at my side."

Harry opened his mouth to respond, but no noise came out. Swallowing heavily he tried again, "Join you?" he asked faintly. "You want me to join you?" he asked again, louder this time as anger replaced his fear, "You killed my parents you stupid son of a bitch, I'd rather die than join you."

"You should be careful what you wish for, boy," snarled Voldemort as he raised his wand, causing each of the Marauder's to prepare themselves for a barrage of curses that never came. Instead the fires scattered throughout the Ministry atrium began to grow. Harry shot a worried look at his guardians, one he found mirrored in their eyes. They could only watch in horror as the fires began to flow towards the Dark Lord, coalescing at his feet into a serpent of living flame.

Harry felt himself slowly edging backwards as his mind fought to think up a spell to fight the flaming monstrosity, but nothing he could think of would stand a chance. The only spell above NEWT level he knew was the Patronus charm and he was rather doubtful that any magic commonly taught to school children would have any chance of stopping the beast in front of him. He looked over at Moony and Padfoot, but both of them seemed to be having a similar dilemma. A massive Transfiguration was what they needed to fight this thing, but it had been his father that had been the Transfiguration master in the group. While the other two Marauder's were adept in the art, he seriously doubted either of them were up to creating something capable of fighting the monstrosity facing them. He could feel the panic clawing at the edge of his mind as Voldemort seemed to come to the same conclusion.

"Regretting your words now boy or would you still rather die than join me?" he asked, as he slowly advanced on the three Marauders, reveling in his triumph. "And what of you Black? Lupin? Do you regret your decisions? You could have been the greatest of my followers, yet instead you insist on giving your lives for those who wish you dead," he said, laughing as the two older Marauders began launching spells at him and his beast. Neither seemed to have any effect as the fiery serpent ignored all efforts to slow it, while Voldemort blocked those aimed at him with contempt.

Harry's mind raced through all the spells he knew as he backed through the remains of the fountain, his trainers becoming soaked as he stepped through the puddles. His fear seemed to be rattling his brain, as no matter what he considered, his mind always returned to the Patronus. He looked backwards to find Longbottom almost at his side lying against a pile of rubble, still unable to rise or even hold his wand. If Harry backed up any farther he would be defenseless and while he wasn't the Boy-Who-Lived's biggest fan, he didn't want him to die either. He turned back towards Voldemort as the snake in front of him reached the edge of the puddle, throwing up a cloud of steam, yet otherwise unaffected by the large pool of water. The Dark Lord was still laughing as Moony and Padfoot tried desperately to slow his advance, to no avail. Not knowing what else to do, Harry raised his wand. "Expecto Patronum." Voldemort's laughter changed as Prongs burst from the end of his wand, "Amusing Potter, did you think I could be scared off like a pitiful dementor?" he asked. "The fear you feel is not artificially pulled from the recesses of your mind, it is real, it is the fear of death, of facing the most powerful wizard the world has ever seen. Do you really think your pitiful Patronus could hurt me? Or did you wish to give your father once last look at his pitiful son before I extinguish your line forever?"

Harry fell to his knees, as his father's avatar slowly began to fade. With no other ideas, he closed his eyes in resignation, waiting for the end. He had waited so long for this day and been so close, yet it seemed like it just wasn't meant to be. Memories flashed in front of his eyes. Remus banishing the dementor on the train moments before it could take him. Waking up wet, cold and alone except for a big black dog curled up beside him in an attempt to keep him warm after the dementors had attacked the Quidditch match. They had protected him from the moment he had met them yet now, when they needed him, he was about to let them down.

He couldn't let them die now, he wouldn't. Regaining his feet he prepared himself to throw everything he had at the sadistic bastard who had killed his parents, hoping that he would come up with something, anything, that would save Moony and Padfoot from suffering the same fate. Prongs tossed his head as Harry rose, no longer fading, but growing brighter by the second until he shone like the moon.

"Impressive boy, truly impressive," said Voldemort, striding forward in the wake of his fiery construct, "But as I already told you, I am not a dementor. However strong your happy little memory, I will crush it, just as I will crush you."

Harry ignored him, instead focusing on the happiest thought he could manage, the small bundle in his front pocket and what that could mean for his family. Breathing in, he tasted the moisture in the air. He felt the water flowing around his feet as a steady stream ran from the broken fountain. And then suddenly the water stopped.

Moony and Padfoot halted their attack and watched, speechless, as the water reversed its flow and began running towards the glowing stag. Voldemort's laughter stopped as Prongs grew, until within moments he was eye to eye with the serpent. The large stag snorted, pawing the ground and sending silver droplets flying as he waited for his master's command.

Voldemort watched, taken aback for a moment before a snarl washed over his face, "Do you really think you can challenge me Potter?" he demanded, apparently tired of his game. His snake snapped forward, attempting to finish Harry before he could react. Prongs didn't require any urging however, leaping into the battle and catching the serpent's neck in his antlers. Harry felt the drain as the two beasts collided, bringing him back to his knees. However hard he had pushed himself earlier, it was nothing compared to how he felt now. He could feel the blood pounding in his ears as he tried to hold on, pushing as much of his magic as he could into Prongs. Yet still his Patronus fell back, forced backwards by the flaming monstrosity. He struggled to maintain his creation, knowing that he wouldn't have a chance to cast another, but no matter how much energy he pushed into it, he couldn't hold back the snake. He could feel Prongs wavering, slowly losing his shape as the battle of wills continued.

"For Prongs!" came the shout as the pressure let up, allowing Prongs to shove the serpent back. Looking up, Harry saw the cause through the steam as Voldemort held a shield against a barrage. Looking over, Harry saw Moony and Padfoot firing spells harder and faster than they ever had in their life, taking the fight to the Dark Lord. Even as Harry watched, Voldemort's snake seemed to shrink a little, the intensity of it's flames diminishing as he turned his attention towards the elder Marauder's. Unwilling to let his guardians face him on their own, Harry turned back towards his Patronus as Prongs reformed. Aiming his wand at the bastard that had killed his parents, Harry didn't bother with an incantation, "CHARGE!"

Prongs leaped forward, catching Voldemort's serpent unawares. Unable to attack Harry due to the battling leviathans, he was forced to maintain his serpent while simultaneously fighting both Moony and Padfoot. With his attention split between two separate battles, the Marauder's pushed forward, throwing the Dark Lord back.

Despite his greater skill and knowledge, Voldemort found himself on the defensive. Unable to overcome the stag, he switched his focus to the elder Marauders in an attempt to overpower them. Sensing his inattentiveness, Prongs charged forward, twisting his head at the last moment and catching the snake with the tips of his antlers. All four combatants fell to their knees, throwing their hands over their ears as the serpent let out it's death cry.

Harry stood up slowly as the fiery serpent faded from view, the Dark Lord glaring at him as he too regained his feet, finally showing signs of fatigue. Despite his fatigue, the dark lord wasted no time in renewing his attack. "Avada Kedavra!" he shouted, aiming yet another killing curse towards Harry. He did not account for Prongs however, the stag intercepting the curse without a hitch as he charged the dark lord. Dark curses rained down on Prongs, littering the ground in sprays of water, but the proud stag continued it's charge. A flash lit up the battle just as Voldemort was forced to leap to the side, directly into the path a blasting curse. The dark lord hit the ground hard, but regained his feet quickly, his hand holding his ribs in pain. He raised his wand to retaliate, only to stop as another flash lit the area, a look of surprise crossing his face as he looked to the side.

Harry turned, following his gaze to find that they were no longer alone. Standing on the edge of the battle stood close to two dozen people, led by none other than the Minister of Magic himself, all frozen in shock at the sight of the battle before them. With one last look of hatred at the three Marauder's, Voldemort summoned Bellatrix before disappearing with a swirl of his cloak.

Harry watched the spot Voldemort had disappeared from in disbelief. He had survived. All three of them had. Not only had they survived, but they had won. They had forced Voldemort to retreat. Only Dumbledore had ever been able to do that before, but today they had managed it. Prongs turned towards him, giving a slight bow before disappearing, leaving only a large puddle in his wake. His relief at their victory was short lived.

"It's Black and Lupin, seize them!" cried the Minister, prompting half a dozen Aurors to advance on the two exhausted Marauder's. Harry couldn't believe it, they had just dueled Voldemort himself in the middle of the Ministry and the Minister was still intent on arresting them. Remus and Sirius quickly began backing away, but it was obvious that they wouldn't be able to put up much of a fight. With Voldemort gone their adrenaline had worn off and the exhaustion and all the wounds they had received were taking their toll. Remus was limping noticeably, while Sirius looked like he could barely raise his wand. "Someone go get the Dementors, at the very least tonight won't be an entire loss."

Looking around for help, Harry noticed Dumbledore hurrying from the elevators and rushed towards him, "Professor, you have to do something, Remus and Sirius are innocent!" he pleaded desperately.

Dumbledore's eyes ran over the pair of exhausted fugitives followed by the Minister and his entourage, seeming to weigh the two groups, before coming to rest on the boy in front of him. "Don't worry Mr Potter, I'm sure cooler heads will prevail," he said calmly, before making his way over to check on the Boy-Who-Lived. Harry looked after him in disbelief. Fudge had spent the last three years blaming anything and everything on Sirius, there was no possible way the Minister allowed his name to be cleared, it would be political suicide.

Harry turned back towards the coming fight as the Aurors slowly closed in on his fellow Marauders. They were back to back now as the Aurors had moved to surround them. He looked around, hoping desperately for help but none seemed to be forthcoming. Dumbledore was busy helping Longbottom to his feet. The only Auror from the Order still on her feet was the young female one, who was only a few years older than him and didn't have the pull required to slow, let alone halt anything.

Seeing the Aurors preparing to make their move Harry ran, moving faster than he had ever moved in his life. They were just about to begin their attack when he shouted, "STOP!", causing everyone to turn to him. To their surprise, they turned to find a fifteen year old had the Minister on his knees with a wand to the back of his head. He continued more calmly, "Move and the Minister loses his head."