Harry Potter And Bellatrix Lestrange

Rotan answered for Xerina as the ice general leaned forward to unroll a piece of parchment. "Currently, we have managed to muster seven combat-ready regiments, for a total of three thousand five hundred troops, including assault squads, magic support units, and healers. They have begun packing up their equipment from our garrisons and are beginning to move here, after we have finished moving the support and logistics personnel." He glanced at Harry as he handed him the parchment. "Listed there are the combat troops and support personnel. We assumed that Nair'i'caix does not have the infrastructure or personnel in place to sustain such a large force, even for just a few days until they are moved out."

Harry glanced over the paper and nodded. "That was a good idea. I apologize that I had to call upon you on such short notice, but we need to act fast, before Voldemort has a chance to strike first. The sooner the war is over, the less collateral damage there will be."

"Of course," Rotan leaned back. "I was informed by my Queen that you had a preliminary strategy in mind?"

"Yes. Count, if you would?" Harry looked to his side, and Hiscophney conjured up a map of Great Britain, highlighting the locations of wizarding villages.

"These are the targets," Hiscophney explained. "We suspect Voldemort is going to hit one of the least guarded villages within the next few days in retaliation. We're guessing he will be going after a civilian target of no strategic importance to ensure minimal resistance and maximize potential casualties. That excludes major targets in wizarding London, Yorkshire, Glasgow, Edinburgh, Oxford, Cardiff, Liverpool, and Bristol." The corresponding locations faded to a dull grey, leaving about a dozen other locations highlighted in vivid red.

Rotan nodded in agreement. "It would fit his profile. He wants revenge, and to instill fear once again, but without suffering too many losses. Do you want us to deploy troops to these locations and intercept him?"

"No." Harry shook his head. "We will be taking the first strike from him, and then force him into taking action towards a target of our choice. If we can lure him into a trap, then we can finish him. The Ministry estimates that at this time, Voldemort has a force of several hundred Death Eaters, a few dozen giants and trolls, and an undisclosed number of Vampires and Werewolves at his disposal. That is why I asked for your assistance, General." Harry smiled grimly. "We force him into an open, all-out attack, and take him out on a battlefield of our choosing."

Rotan frowned, and the disapproving expressions on the other faces in the room didn't escape the aged general, either. "I don't like this plan, milord. Voldemort's forces are strong, and we could potentially match them in combat, but what about Voldemort himself? Would it not be best to isolate him from his troops and destroy him individually?"

"You can't." Harry looked around the table. "No offense to you or your soldiers, but none of you can defeat Voldemort."

"Then who will? I find it absurd to believe that just because he's a powerful wizard, he can't be defeated. He's just human - throw enough at him, and he will fall," Hiscophney disagreed.

\"I think it's about time you heard something that Professor Dumbledore deemed important enough to keep from me for the last few years," Harry took a deep, shuddering breath, and recounted Sybil Trelawney's prophecy for the second time that day.

When he was done, Bella was holding his hand in hers. Neville had already known, while Hiscophney, Xerina, and Rotan all stared incredulously. It was Xerina who spoke up after a long moment of silence.

"You can't seriously believe in that! You can't hope to face Voldemort alone and come out victorious - and just because some third-rate seer thinks she had a vision doesn't mean that you're the only one capable of stopping him. This is nonsense!"

"There's more," Harry added quietly.

"More?"

"According to Dumbledore, shortly before I was thrown into Azkaban, there was a second prophecy made. One that states that North's heir shall be taken to his dominion, where his heritage will manifest itself. The long forgotten power will wake, and Ice's armies will flock to him. Traitors will quail before the betrayed, and will be reckoned with. Voldemort's fate will be decided by he who holds the Black Rod. I have a good idea of what that means, at least."

The shock in Neville's and Bella's eyes was obvious as they connected the dots. Hiscophney and Xerina took a while longer. "So, he threw you away when he thought that you were no longer useful, eh?" Rotan growled angrily.

"Wizards," Hiscophney sneered as he shook his head in disgust. "That one seems clear to me. In connection with the first one, maybe the power you have that Voldemort knows now is your heritage of Polairix. If that were the case, then that would not necessarily mean that you will be the one to destroy him, merely that you are instrumental in his destruction. If your heritage truly is the power spoken of in the prophecy, then it might very well be that you destroy Voldemort simply by bringing the full might of our forces to bear on him."

"There's something else," Xerina chimed in, exchanging a meaningful look with Hiscophney. "The Black Rod mentioned, I think it may hold the key to defeating Voldemort. Killing his physical body most likely would not be the end of him - after all, he has already survived the killing curse once, though as a spirit only. If we were to charge in and destroy his mortal form without further knowledge of what measures he has taken to guard his spirit from passing on, we may well just be delaying him."

Hiscophney frowned. "Don't tell me you believe in the legends? They're folktales, no one has seen the Rod of Dominion for a millennia and a half, and even then, stories about it are sketchy at best."

"No one has seen an heir of Polairix in centuries, either," Xerina shot back, "yet here we are, united by the heir of the North."

"The seat of government and a mythical item of indescribable power are two completely different things!"

"The Rod exists!"

"Prove it!"

Harry blinked in confusion as the two rulers stared each other down, before realizing that he had to defuse the situation. He leaned forward in between the two, and cleared his throat, but they ignored him in favor of their staring contest. Across the table, Neville caught Harry's eye and mimicked placing two fingers in his mouth. Getting the hint, Harry took a deep breath and let out an ear-piercing whistle that startled everyone at the table, even the ones that had been expecting it. Hiscophney and Xerina practically jumped out of their chairs, then looked down in embarrassment at having been caught up in their bickering. Harry could see Rotan smirking appreciatively from the corner of his eye as the aging general placed a calming hand on his queen's arm.

"I believe Lord Polairix wishes to speak, milady," he told her with barely disguised mirth.

"Yes, um," Harry glanced at his two allies who seemed to have such a different opinion about something he had no idea of, "would you mind explaining the whole thing? This whole Rod of Dominion story and what it's got to do with Voldemort?"

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