Flames licked up from the furniture. Bodies lay where they had fallen, some smoking, some cut apart, one in particular was still flailing, it's head having been transfigured into an octopus. Several more stood, wands raised, their last moment frozen into stone. And at the centre of the hall, more Dark wizards crowded, surrounding none other than Tom's own Tranfiguration teacher, Albus Dumbledore.
As a fresh wave of wizards rushed him, Dumbldore danced past them, their spells, as if by magic. A flaming coil of magic emanated from his wand, with which he caressed the oncoming tide with, barely touching them but once as he pirouetted onwards, beard flying out. Spells flew wildly, but none seemed to touch him or his bird, which swooped and dived through the deadly strands of magic like a bird half it's size. The wave broke itself on him, leaving corpses behind.
He never knew how long he watched the carnage Dumbledore wrought below, but Tom eventually fled the scene, down to the cages where she was kept.
Dumbledore twisted, flicking the whip of fire out to deflect a particularly well aimed spell, and finished the last of the Dark Alliance Adepts. He suddenly felt tired, looking around at what he had achieved.
"Fawkes? Fawkes, to me." The brightly coloured phoenix screamed a warning and swooped towards the huge double doors. They opened, and Grindlewald walked in.
Tom glanced into the dungeon, and opened up the door with a swift kick. She lay on the bed, flushed with rage and struggling with her ropes and gag.
"Liz, thank Merlin! Hold still." He took off the gag, and she screamed and bit him.