Title: Rise of Power
Rating: PG-13 Category: Adventure/Action/Humor
Sub-category: Crossover/AU
Feedback: Yes, please. Praises, comments and constructive criticism welcomed.
Spoilers: None.
Summary: The world of the sisters and Harry Potter collide in the final war against the Dark Lord.
Disclaimer: Charmed belongs to Constance M. Burge and WB. Harry Potter and all its characters and places belong to JK Rowling. I own nothing, so no suing, please.
AN: I am using both the written English and the American English for the story, for the sake of differentiating the speech and language. So, if you noticed a spelling of a word that is strange to you, there's no need to panic. There'll be a smattering of British phrases which I picked up from too much tv and books. My description and knowledge of Harry Potter and his world comes mostly from the movies and information online. (Harry Potter Lexicon is the best, it's where I get the spells from.) I plan to read the HP books but until they stop making the movie, I won't be picking one up to read it anytime soon and spoiling my enjoyment of the silver screen adaption. I am apologizing in advance for any mistakes made in the HP details.
- Chapter One -
Three a.m. The hour of the wolf.
The street was silent at this ungodly hour. There was no one about, save for the occasional howl from some neighbour's dog being left out in the cold. It had rained earlier in the evening, the downpour washing away the dust and dirt from the asphalt, cooling the warm temperature considerably. It made the people in their beds turned over, burrowing deeper under their blankets and settle more deeply into sleep.
Somewhere in the distant, came a loud wail. It came from a two storey house with a pleasant enough looking garden. From the window, a single flicker of light was seen then followed by a sudden eerie, green flash of light. It was over so quick, it looked like it must have been a trick of an eye. Inside the house, huddling on the floor, clutching at the two small children was a man in his early forties. His dark hair had a touch of grey in them. His face had been handsome in his younger years but it was now lined with care and tiredness that comes with age. He was portly around the middle, obviously letting himself go after his marriage.
Both his children were whimpering with fright, huddling close to their father, burying their faces into his thinning bathrobe, not wanting to see the body that lay before them. Their mother had died a painful death, having subjected to the torture inflicted upon her from their attackers. She lay motionless on the cold, hard floor, eyes wide, mouth opened in silent scream, her body twisted in agony during her final moments before they put her out of her misery.
Now, the black robed figures moved from her, surrounding the man and his children. The man clutched his children to him closer and tightly, almost choking them but they didn't seem to notice in their terror. He himself forced his head up, meeting with his assailants' faces. The hoods were drawn on their faces, covering their identities from him. He didn't need to see them to know who they are, he knew them. Perhaps not well enough but knew them well enough to know who he was facing with.
"Do not harm the children, please," he begged, as wetness fell down his round face. He was afraid. "I beg of you. Leave them be."
"I do not recall asking you to speak." One of the robed figures stepped forward, wand pointing at him. His voice was cold as the first winter frost and as icy, with no emotions behind it. The man recognized the tone, knew it, having often heard it in his life.
"Lucius? Lucius, please!" he cried, letting go of his children, crawling to the man's feet. "I beg of you, let them be. They're only little."
"True but they carry the same filthy muggle blood in their veins," the man known as Lucius said coldly. "You brought this upon yourself, McBride. Know that it is not my wish for this to happen to you but the Dark Lord's." He lifted his wand up, jabbing it at the children who were cowering, petrified, their noisy sobs joining their father's.
"Avada Kedavra." The curse was whispered and the jet of eerie green light shot out from the tip of the wand and struck the man on his head. A quick and painless death. There was no need for the man to suffer anymore than needed.
"Finish them off," said Lucius, pocketing his wand. Two of the robed followers stepped forward, pointed their wands at the children and spoke the curse. The bodies slumped against each other, tear tracks still visible on their faces.
In the starless sky, the haunting green mark appeared above the home of Abraham McBride, speaking volumes of the deed that had been done and to serve as a warning to all.
In their homes, the muggles sleep on, oblivious to what was going on.
The Ministry was in an uproar. People hurrying to and forth, clutching pieces of parchments and quills, frantic and worry, as they headed about to their respective places. Calls were made and answered, queries were put on hold, reassurances were given to the stricken families. Every now and then, someone would Apparate in with a pop, heads would look up then went back to their work, as the person will make his or her way down the hallway with a grim expression. There was a group of magical family standing by the doorway, asking anyone who passed by them what was going to happen, who was going to handle it, and what were they going to do about it?
"Tragic, really tragic," someone said in hushed tones.
"Senseless, I'll say," declared another. "You-Know-Who is coming into power and soon the Ministry will not be able to protect us."
"Hush up, Liam!" the first said. She spotted someone familiar tramping down the hallway, face somber and pale. The red hair identify him easily, even from far away. There weren't too many magical families with hair as red as the man's.
"Mr Weasley!" she called, hurrying to meet him, as Liam followed her. The rest of their family remained by the corridor. "Mr Weasley!"
Arthur Weasley had been woken up far too early for his liking at the ungodly hour of five a.m. this morning by an urgent message from the Ministry. He had arrived at the office at eight to see people milling about, shouting out questions at him, demanding answers from him, telling him what he should be doing. It didn't help that the reporters from the Daily Prophet were among the crowd in front of the building. The deaths of the McBride family had created headlines around the magical community, it was what everyone was talking about this morning.
It was now nearing two in the afternoon, and his stomach reminded him he had yet eaten, and here was Mrs Fields coming after him, probably to lecture him on how to safeguard the citizens or some other. He stopped in his tracks, waiting for her to come up to him. Her husband was trailing after her, his face sullen.
"A good afternoon to you, Mrs Field," said Arthur.
"Good indeed!" Liam snorted. "Another family had been killed by Death Eaters. That's the second in this week, Arthur. What are you going to do about it to ensure our safety?"
"Liam, please." Maggie Fields turned to her husband with an exasperate expression that was joined by weariness. "I apologize for his manners, Mr Weasley. It's just that – well, in such difficult times, it's hard not to be jumpy and short tempered."
"I'll say," cut in Liam, and was silenced by a sharp jab in the ribs.
"I wondered if there is anything we can do, Mr Weasley. Heavens know it's such a tragic thing to happen to them. Poor, poor Abe. He never had a mean bone in his body, and those children – ! Never having to grow up to the decent adults they will be. I heard that Marian died a horrible death."
"Maggie, you want to let Arthur hear about your opinion or tell him? He ain't got all day, you know." Liam was starting to get impatient at his wife's ramblings. She tended to go overboard.
Arthur Weasley smiled tightly at them. "Mrs Field, we're doing the best we can in such a situation. Aurors have been send down to the home, and I'm sure we can settle this as soon as possible."
"That's what they all say," Liam sneered. "When bodies start pillin' up, then you all go into action, and by then, it's too late. You-Know-Who is moving, getting ready his army for battle and where will we end up?"
Maggie shushed her husband with a sharp slap on the arm, turning back to Arthur. "I'm really sorry, Mr Weasley."
"Quite understandable, Mrs Fields." Arthur smiled down at her kindly before continuing his way to his office. He could hear her scolding her husband as he walked away.
"The man is trying his best," she was saying.
"This is a disaster, Arthur," someone said the moment he entered his office.
The man was tall and well built, with thinning salt and pepper hair. He had a mustache on his face which was rather red at the moment, probably due to the incessant people all around clamoring him for attention earlier. Mr Wendell Marley was an efficient man, liking his business to run smoothly with no problems whatsoever. At the moment, he was anything but efficient and calm. He was flustered, nervous, worried.
"We have people running about in a panic, some reporter putting false news into people's ears and a whole bunch of angry people demanding to know what are we going to do about it." Wendell wiped his face with his red checkered handkerchief.
"We have sent the Aurors out to investigate and to cover up any magical leakage from last night, Wendell." Arthur came around the man, his desk and sat behind it. Even the bright sun shining into his office failed to lift his spirits up at the moment.
"Investigate? Investigate, you say, Arthur?" Wendell gave his friend an incredulous look. "There is no need to investigate any further. It's the work of You-Know-Who and his followers. The Mark in the sky should have made it clear as day, Arthur Weasley! The Ministry is in an uproar over it. We have shield the people from the first three deaths so far but this – this takes the cake. Arthur," Wendell's voice turned somber and grave. "Dark times are nearing, You-Know-Who is rising in power, he is exerting his control over the community. We need to prepare the magical community for this war. We cannot avoid the issue any longer."
Arthur Weasley looked out the window with a heavy heart. He had never thought of taking over Fudge's place in the ministry, least of all this position. He didn't want to alarm the people and yet he knew that Wendell was right. He cannot hold back information any longer. The Dark Lord was moving and planning his attack at the very moment he was debating on what to do.
"Very well, Wendell," he said with a deep sigh. "Gather the reporters and people around. I have an announcement to make."
The young woman looking about to be in her early twenties, knelt on the wooden floor, took out her wand and tapped it against the outline of a chalk, muttering a spell. The area flashed white then replayed the scene from the wee hours before. She remained kneeling at the spot, watching as the images replayed themselves before her in silent mode. No need for the sounds to disturb the others who were working around her. She forwarded the part where Sally McBride was being placed under the Cruciatus Curse to the scene where Abraham McBride literally begged for his life at the feet of one of the Death Eaters. She thanked Merlin she didn't added sound to the replay, the images alone were enough to disturbed her. No matter how many times she had done this job before, it still left a bitter taste in her mouth at the cruelty of some people. She was suddenly glad that the children would not live to suffer through the nightmare, and scolded herself for feeling that way but, one could not help feeling that way after what was seen.
"-- just bloody awful, you know?" someone was saying from behind her. "Hermione, anything much?"
Hermione Granger got up from her position on the floor, dusting her robes, turning around to face the person who asked. Seeing him brought a slight smile to her face, despite the dreariness of the job and the house. He was tall, easily over six feet, with a mop of red hair that was neatly combed and bright blue eyes peering down at her. He wasn't handsome but good looking enough for her. She had known him since she was eleven, almost half of her childhood.
Ronald Weasley was still the same person as he was back in Hogwarts. His temper was as famous as the red hair that associate themselves with the Weasley name. It amazed her that he was able to make it to be an Auror. She would have thought he might be playing professional Quidditch, considering he talked about the sport non stop during his school years. Next to Ron was the infamous Harry Potter. Dark unruly hair that refused to stay in place, sharp green eyes. While Ron was tall as a beanstalk, Harry was built lean. The familiar round rimmed glassed framed his face.
"Death Eaters were here," Hermione replied. "Harry."
"Of course, it's Death Eaters," Ron snipped at her. "It's so obvious. I mean, who else cast an Unforgiveable Curse on a family of muggles? A muggle? We should just arrest the whole lot of them on the spot."
"We know that, Ron, but as usual, we can't seem to able to do much." Hermione was frustrated herself. Every case like this always leads to a dead end. The clues were there but without much proof, they were unable to arrest those associated with the crime. Her job in the forensic department meant she had to study each and every prints or fabric or hair left behind, and gather enough evidence for the rest of the ministry to take action.
"The Ministry is afraid to take action," Harry reasoned. "It will be quite chaotic should they announce to everyone that Voldemort is now rising and everything is going to end as they know it."
"Harry!" hissed Hermione at him.
"I'm not afraid to speak his name," Harry protested. "'Mione, I'm twenty two years old and I shouldn't be afraid of him."
"No, of course not. Unless he's pointing his wand at your face and says the Killing Curse," Hermione said pleasantly.
"She got you there, mate." Ron grinned then sobered up when he remembered where they were. They fell silent, staring at the floor where the chalk outlines of where the bodies were before in the early hours. "Bloody awful. Stupid Death Eaters. Stupid You-Know-Who."
"Ron!" Hermione looked aghast at him.
"Well, it is!" insisted Ron. "Another family dead in the name of You-Know-Who, and everyone's cowering around, too afraid to actually do anything about it. It's going to be covered up like the three cases before us. Nobody's arresting any Death Eaters from the murders, even though we got all the bloody evidence pointed at them!"
"I supposed you can march up to their houses and Stupefy them all?" Hermione asked dryly.
"Not funny, 'Mione." Ron's jaw was clenched tight. She realized he was upset about this, angry even for such senseless killings. She was angry herself but there was nothing much she can do. It wasn't like back when they were fifteen at that time, able to take on the Death Eaters with the help of Dumbledore and the Order.
"Sorry," she said, touching his arm gently.
"Ron is right. This is just another senseless killing." Harry was staring ahead at the spot where the family had died, eyes hard. "They won't stop until they rid the world of every impure blood, until they rid of me."
"Oh, Harry." Hermione saw through him. He was filled with regret, guilt, sorrow. She knew him well enough to know, after all, they had been friends since they were eleven. "It's not your fault."
"And don't you go blaming yourself for it," Ron added, quickly pushing his own anger aside. "You-Know-Who has been doing this before you were even born. He's been after those who opposes him from start. Harry, it's not your fault. No one's blaming you for it."
"Then why do I feel as if it is? Whenever I look at something like this, I feel as if everyone's whispering about me, talking about me behind my back, wondering when is the great Harry Potter going to take the Dark Lord down." Harry turned to them, his expression giving them a glimpse of the boy he had been before.
"No one's making you do anything, Harry." Ron grasped his best friend's shoulder, giving it a firm squeeze. "No one's blaming you for anything. Look at them." He pointed.
They looked to see the other Aurors going about in their work. No one was stopping by them to tell them to get back to work nor was there anyone who was pointing at them.
"I just feel that I should be doing something," said Harry, after a look around.
"Like what, march right up to You-Know-Who and asked him nicely not to kill those poor people?" Ron jibbed.
"Ron," sighed Hermione. He made the most inappropriate jokes at the most inappropriate time. Like right now, for instance.
"He'd cursed me first before he'd even think about it," Harry mused. "Maybe he'd put me through a Cruciatus Curse first, then the Killing Curse."
"Or turn you into a slug," added Ron cheerfully. "There's always the possibility."
"Better a slug than hit with the Killing Curse." Hermione gave Ron a look. "Honestly, Ronald, now is not a time to be joking about things like that."
"I wasn't joking," Ron protested. "I was cheering Harry up."
"Which I'm sure he's grateful about it." Hermione sniffed at him. "Now, come. I have a lot to do once we get back to headquarters." Grabbing his hand, she pulled out her hand and Apparated them back to the Ministry of Magic building.
"There is much to be done, Lucius," said the tall, robed figure as he glided across the floor towards the windows. The view overlooking the grounds of Malfoy Manor was breathtaking, miles and miles of green. The Dark Lord, however, had no patience for admiring such view. He turned, standing with his back against the windows, hands clasped behind him as he faced the man in the same room as him.
The man before him had been his most faithful servant so far. But loyalty can be bought or coerced. While he trust the man before him, he still gave him the benefit of a doubt. After all, in these times, one will never know where his loyalty lies, as proven by the man's son. The boy had broke off all ties to the man, renounce his loyalty to the Dark Lord.
It had been such a disappointment, he had told Lucius Malfoy, that a fine young man like his son should chose the Order over him. Lucius had spent the week in the dungeons, punished by him for the disobedience of his son and for failing to hold a tighter rein around the boy. Now, Voldemort had forgiven Lucius, taken him back into his fold once more. And Lucius had never been more grateful to be back in service of his master.
"Harry Potter has been a thorn at my side for as long as I know." Voldemort began walking towards Lucius slowly, footsteps measure and calm. "He has always managed to stop me, time and time again. Perhaps that is why your son joins with them, eh, Lucius? They are an undefeatable team. But...I cannot hold it over you, after all, you were swayed by the woman as well. She brought him up well, keeping secrets and lies from you all these years."
"She will be punished for her disloyalty, my Lord, I will see to it." Lucius bowed.
"There is no need." Voldemort now stood an arm's length away from him, red, lidless eyes boring into his very soul. Red like fire, like the devil. "She will learn her lesson soon enough when her son lies cold at her feet." A smile on the thin lips. "But I am not going to waste your time in reminiscing about your poor managing skills of your family."
"Yes, my Lord." Lucius was not a cold man by all means. He still loved his wife and son but the Dark Lord's approval means more than the love for his family. He had sworn allegiance to his master and he will served his live to his master.
"Have you ever heard of the Charmed Ones, Lucius? A trio of powerful witches, blessed by the Higher powers above and foretold by an old prophecy."
Lucius's brow furrowed, letting Voldemort know he had no clue as to who they are. Understandable, really. The Dark Lord doubt if any wizard or witch in the community here knew. He smiled at him but the smile never touched his thin, skeletal face.
"My rise to power has been plague by Harry Potter for years, Lucius, and now I have received news of these mere mortals with enough power to challenge my rising."
"They are muggles then, my Lord," Lucius stated, watching as his Lord waved a hand in the air.
A projection, very much like a hologram appeared, showing an image to three women. Even though it was only an image, Lucius could feel the confidence, the power radiating from them. No, they were no mere muggles, he thought.
"They are not easy to be taken down. Many have tried to kill them but failed." Voldemort waved his bony hand again, and the image changed to two young men. One with brown hair in want of a good cut and the other with shoulder length blond hair. As with the women, these two men also exude the same power.
"The twice blessed, as it has been foretold in prophecies and scrolls. He will bring magic to great heights like never before."
Lucius wondered if there was point to all this or has the Dark Lord lost his mind. Voldemort seemed to read his thoughts for he smiled indulgently at the fair haired man before him. "I tell you these because you will be dealing with them sooner than you know, Lucius. I want you to be prepared."
"Then you wish for me to kill them?"
"No, Lucius. You are always such a naive fool. A loyal fool, nevertheless, still naive." Voldemort waved his hand, causing the projection to dissipate like mists. "I want you to bring me the twice blessed. His power is enough to sustain me, perhaps to bring me back to my former glory."
Lucius bowed in acknowledgment of the task. "Very well, my Lord." He turned to leave when the Dark Lord's voice called him back.
It was silky, filled with a coldness that made him shudder. "Lucius, don't fail me again. One disappointment is enough."
"Yes, my Lord."
TBC...