Looking down from above, you could clearly see two completely different camps.
If Harry Potter's side was fighting this battle with a neat formation and smooth coordination, then the Death Eaters' side was surging forward in a loose, scattered mass.
To put it simply, it was like a wave crashing against a reef.
The only question was whether that wave would smash the rock first, or whether the sea would be the one to run out of strength in the end...
On Remus Lupin's side, setting Harry Potter aside, since he had little real combat ability, there were currently a little over forty wizards on the battlefield. The main force was the Order of the Phoenix members led by Remus Lupin.
The combined forces of Barty Crouch Jr. and Fenrir Greyback, on the other hand, held an overwhelming advantage in numbers. At a glance, there had to be at least two hundred of them, and the real number was likely even higher.
Notably, Werewolves made up two thirds of that force.
As for the high level fighters who could influence the course of the entire battlefield, the numbers on both sides were probably about even.
In fact, by the standards of the magical world's past conflicts, a battle on this scale could already be called historic...
"It's started."
Since no one was paying attention to him, Draco was happy to stay to one side and watch the show. He even had the leisure to size up the high level fighters on both sides.
Among them, the most eye catching was probably the witch standing beside Remus Lupin.
It was not just because her brightly colored hair was impossible to ignore, but also because the magical fluctuations coming from her were not the least bit inferior to Remus Lupin's.
In other words, it was not that she drew attention because she was a woman, nor was it because Draco had any prejudice against the strength of witches. It was simply because...
This really is unexpected. If Mother found out, she'd definitely be furious.
Draco had never imagined that she would stand on Dumbledore's side, and the feeling left him oddly unsettled.
Nymphadora Tonks.
No, before her mother was cast out of the family, she had also borne a surname well known throughout the wizarding world.
Black.
Nymphadora Black Tonks.
In other words, she was Draco's cousin...
...
Beams of magic crossed through the air.
Screams rang out whenever someone was hit.
A battle between wizards was not just both sides lining up and firing spells at each other.
Because wizards placed so little importance on tactics, their battles looked more like one on one duels, or brutal dogpiles where the many ganged up on the few.
And the command Nymphadora had mentioned earlier was limited to assigning who would deal with the enemy's stronger wizards, as well as choosing the timing of attack and defense.
Seeing that, Draco's interest had already faded quite a bit compared to how it had been at the start...
So even with some coordination, they're still fighting on their own.
Knowledge from books could never compare to seeing it with his own eyes.
And now, on this battlefield, Draco could finally confirm one thing. In conflicts on the wizarding side, victory or defeat had always been decided by the small handful of people who truly held power in their own hands.
For example.
Voldemort and Dumbledore...
...
Chaos.
There had been no military training, and the number of people on the battlefield did not even exceed five hundred, yet the savagery and bloodshed were no less intense than a world war among Muggles...
The attack looked chaotic and disorderly, but if you looked closely, you could see that when the Death Eaters launched their charge, the Werewolves were positioned at the very front, while the other Dark Wizards began casting from the rear.
Whether that coordination was intentional or not, it still showed that this battle would definitely not be easy for Remus Lupin and the others...
Accompanied by the low growls of the Werewolves, their figures rushed forward.
Those blood red eyes made them look like wild beasts that had completely lost their reason, and even when facing a wall of wands like a forest of guns, they showed no intention of slowing down or retreating.
Ready to die.
Fearless.
If they had been facing ordinary wizards, then the moment those wizards saw this scene, they probably would have faltered on the spot and been crushed immediately by the charging pack of Werewolves.
Unfortunately, the Werewolves were not facing a mob of rabble, but members of the Order of the Phoenix led by Dumbledore...
"Reducto!"
"Stupefy!"
"Petrification!"
All kinds of spell light tore through the air in front of them.
Watching from the sky, Draco could not help rolling his eyes at the utterly uncoordinated casting.
These were all spells the wizards were personally skilled at, but in reality, not only did the effects differ, even the casting speed and flight paths varied from one spell to another.
And it was precisely those subtle differences that gave the Werewolves time and space to react...
Sure enough.
Although a few attacks hit their targets, most of the spells struck empty air. Some wizards did not even have time to cast before the Werewolves reached them and threw them to the ground with bites and tackles.
That also showed that not every wizard possessed the strength Dumbledore had hoped for.
In that brief instant, the defensive line that had still been fairly neat a moment ago was thrown into disorder by the impact of the Werewolves.
Bodies and fangs tangled together.
At that point, the Order of the Phoenix wizards had truly been dragged back into the most primitive kind of wizard combat, fighting one on one.
Seeing this, Remus Lupin, who had been staring fixedly at Fenrir Greyback the whole time, finally shouted in anger,
"Alastor, are you still not going to move? Hurry and bring your people to stop them. Don't let those damned Werewolves get any closer!"
"Don't shout my name, little Remus. You should know that only by drawing your fist back can you throw a better punch!"
"Damn it, are you planning to meet Merlin with your fists still pulled back?"
Only then did everyone realize that the old Auror Alastor Moody had actually been hiding among the crowd the whole time.
Looking toward the voice, that constantly swiveling and deeply unsettling magical eye, along with his limping gait, made it obvious that it really was the familiar old Auror.
And that old fox. That level of caution really was exactly Alastor Moody's style.
Especially after being attacked by Barty Crouch Jr., he seemed to have become even more careful about concealing his whereabouts.
Even Draco, watching from above, could not help being taken aback. To be honest, he really had not noticed Alastor Moody at all. His features were so distinctive, yet Draco had still failed to spot him.
If Remus Lupin had not called him out directly, Alastor Moody might well have stayed hidden until the battle ended without ever showing himself...