AN: *Insert huffy disclaimer here*
AN2: The start of this chapter has fairly graphic images of violence and gore, you've been warned.
-:-
Chapter Nine: Cold
The middle of London was always bustling around Christmas time with holiday shopping going on at the last minute. Throngs of people braved the icy weather and harsh snow filled streets to get that last vital gift for their children or spouse. And it was in the middle of London that Valmortis struck.
The first indication that anything was wrong was the sudden staccato cracks echoing around Piccadilly Circus. Figures in black robes materialized out of the sleet filled air and a sonorous chant was taken up in an eerie monotone. One of the chanters was knocked over by a startled shopper and without warning it lashed out.
Bright purple light flared out from the figure and the offending bystander seemed to stiffen for a second before with a mighty bang, that punctured the eardrums of the shoppers for dozens of meters in every direction, the poor man exploded messily, shards of bone flying in every direction, puncturing muscles and one poor woman took a shard through her eye that killed her instantly.
That's when the panic started. Shoppers fled in all directions only to find themselves hemmed in on all sides by more black robed chanters. Too afraid to go near them the crowd hemmed and hawed for a moment on the icy ground. People were shrieking and crying in fear, harsh yells of panic rent the frosty air and for a handful of seconds, a balance was struck.
Then the people in the centre of the mob pushed out panicked in their closed environs and those on the edge of the mob were forced into contact with more robed chanters. Several were knocked over, only to lash out with more horrific curses, one woman's skin melted away in an instant and her internal organs slithered to the street with a sickening squelch that could just barely be heard in the close vicinity.
Another woman, and two men, all died with their limbs collapsing upon themselves and vanishing from existence, followed by the rest of their bodies. Nothing would be left of those poor souls. Left and right people were being butchered; shoved to their fate by the panicked central mass of the mob forcing its way outwards away from the crushing confines it had been forced into. Then, when things didn't seem like they could get any worse, the chanting stopped, and something far more terrible arrived.
A grim shade of darkness fell upon the Circus and with a rattling moan the thirty one figures forming a great circle dissolved into a sickening black dust that poured into the centre of the circle. The crowd, if possible, became more violent in its attempts to escape and many were trampled underfoot as a veritable stampede broke out and screams of terror rent the air.
The oily black dust was sucked into an ever growing sphere on top of the statue of Eros that pulsed once with a sickening black light before detonating outwards throwing the shoppers to the ground face first in many cases. The statue shattered down its vertical faces and exploded outwards from the sheer force of the detonation above it, rubble flew in all directions and a crater formed in the centre of Piccadilly Circus. A dark sinister fog filled that crater for a few seconds before it rapidly coalesced into a humanoid form that stood a staunch two and a half meters high: wings of ebon fog stretching high into the sky before stretching out to the sides in a menacing posture, arms corded with rippling muscles and two multi jointed legs planted firmly on the ground. Its black maw opened, framed by curled ram's horns. It stretched to its full height and then flapped its wings once before the whole creature was bursting into wicked flames and from its abyssal throat came a terrifying voice layered with demonic overtones. The voice was like a choir, thundering in its volume that shattered the windows of nearby cars and businesses, the distinct sounds of over thirty different men and women could be heard within that horrific vocalization and the words it bellowed belied an even greater evil.
"We are LEGION! Hear our voices and despair!"
-:-
A scant ten kilometres from the event horizon the Ministry for Magic's Auror Headquarters was scrambling for a response team big enough to respond to the level of magical disturbance, shouts were ringing across the offices and the clamour of wizard boots could be heard up and down the corridors as dragon hide armoured shock response teams rushed to the staging platforms in the centre of the circular department.
"Level Merlin Omega Class necromantic disturbance!"
"Eighty muggle fatalities, unknown total casualties on site!"
"Code nine breach of the statute of secrecy! Code nine!"
"Cardiff and Edinburgh reporting identical signatures!"
"Auror response team's eleven through twenty four…"
"Call in Dumbledore!"
"Where the fuck is Amelia?"
"We've got wounded coming into St Mungo's!"
"Targets have been classified, three Liches…"
-:-
It was into this madhouse that junior Auror Nymphadora Tonks was shoved as she apparated into the locker rooms' apparition point. The noise was deafening as she did her best to rapidly change from her clothes to her battle gear. You couldn't charm it on to you because it was so heavily warded against magical interaction of any kind and Tonks fumbled the strap on her chest plate for a second before it finally snapped into place. Her breath was already coming in short gasps as she gripped her wand in one shaking hand. The moment her armour had been donned she was shoved into the queue of Aurors waiting for the staging points. A sticker was slapped onto her wrist as she moved past a checkpoint in the maelstrom of bodies and she glanced down at it and audibly gulped.
'Piccadilly Circus'
She looked around frantically for her disembarkation squad and was relieved to see all bar one of them in the immediate vicinity. She flashed her sticker and they responded, the large block print telling her they were all in this together. Her feet touched onto the staging platform and with a strange tug behind her navel Tonks was yanked along by the portkey stuck to her wrist for all of a second before her feet slammed down in a side street. What she saw made her blood run cold.
A monstrous flaming mass in the middle of the sleet filled square was laying waste to all it could reach with hand and spell. Great gouts of magical energy were leaping from its hands like lobbed grenades to land explosively among the still fleeing muggles. It loosed a shapeless roar and Tonks through only sheer force of will stopped from soiling herself as her training kicked in and she sprinted forwards alongside her squad mates.
Auror shock teams were already firing spells at the colossal entity and Tonks added her not inconsiderable might to the fray, junior auror she may be, but the job still had a minimum standard. Lances of light flickered out from all sides of the square and speared into the Lich as it rampaged closer and closer to the main auror line. Tonks' eyes widened as the undead monstrosity shrugged off the spell fire like so many bb pellets and, after a brief pause to gather effort, charged into the auror ranks.
A whole bloc of Aurors spot apparated behind the lich even as it ran headfirst into a wave of spell fire; it was a standard tactic with large creatures. Overwhelm them with numbers and superior manoeuvrability while maintaining a constant barrage of spells.
It would have been great normally, but Liches have magic too. Apparently aware of the plight it was facing the Lich immediately changed tactics and began casting rapid fire beams of light-defying energy that seemed to decimate the very atoms from what they touched: disintegrating holes through Aurors and muggles alike, cleanly and efficiently.
A thunderclap sounded in the square and Tonks looked over the shoulder of the Auror she was behind to see a most welcome sight. An unspeakable wearing a long blue overcoat had apparated directly into the square, backup had arrived.
-:-
Victoria Umbridge took her bearings in a moment when she landed, the frigid air in London was nothing compared to the bitter winds in Scotland where she had apparated from and it felt almost warm by comparison. She had apparated to a designated embarkation point that had been warded upon arrival by one of the auror squad leaders. The embarkation points were essentially homing beacons designed to attract apparating individuals and incoming portkeys. They also had mild compulsion wards thrown up around them that encouraged people to keep the area clear so as not to be splattered by incoming travellers.
That didn't mean it was always safe to be there however. Upon apparating in Umbridge immediately had to dive to the side as a lance of magical energy flared through the point where her body had been only a moment earlier. She fell into a roll and rose to her feet, wand sparking slightly in her hand.
Devouring the vampires' souls as they had died in the classroom weeks ago had slowly recuperated some of her magical energy. It was only a small portion of her total power but more than enough to keep her fuelled for this fight, and probably the one in Wales too. Dumbledore had offered to handle Scotland and then meet her in Wales in case she needed backup. It was more than appreciated.
The lich in front of her was a fine specimen, well defined and clearly brimming with energy. This creature was powerful, and was the coalition of a great many souls. Absorbing its power would keep her strength up for months to come. She moved forwards rapidly, seeking to meet the undead midway through its assault before it could wreak any more havoc among the Auror ranks or the fleeing muggles. Quickly Umbridge ran through her mind the relevant information about Liches, it was a pre-fight ritual she engaged in with every new adversary.
Liches were unique in the realms of the undead in that they forced ectoplasm to become corporeal to contain their powerful forms; they were often described as walking the line between physical and incorporeal. When ectoplasm becomes solid it more or less becomes pure carbon. But instead of remaining carbon it tends to burn off at a prodigious rate because of the heat caused by ripping ectoplasm into the physical realm turning back into ectoplasm, only for it to be forced back into the physical world once more whereupon it would catch alight under the intense heat that such a transition brought with it.
They were initially thought to be demons from the burning hells because of their somewhat terrifying appearance. Medieval missionaries from Rome encountering these undead for the first time in central Europe based the Catholic depiction of demons upon them and the image has been burned into muggle minds for generations.
The fact that the creatures were essentially a gigantic combustion cycle lent some simple, yet esoteric ways of dealing with them. Umbridge raised her wand and with a tight flick and curve used sorcery to remove energy from the air around the Lich, cooling it rapidly in the already freezing square. The result of this was that Victoria siphoned off the energy that would become ectoplasm before it could dissipate from the physical realm. Without ectoplasm in its incorporeal state to suck back into the physical realm to fuel the Lich's body, it would quickly burn itself out.
The results were immediately obvious as the Lich became sluggish, its bastardized magical core trying to pump more energy into the air around itself to maintain the reaction that kept it alive. Power flowed from the undead like water through a sieve and Victoria siphoned it all, bolstering her flagging energy reserves with the prodigious creature's own magic.
Enraged at its own sluggishness the Lich turned to face Umbridge, correctly divining that she was the source of its frustration. But it did not get to retaliate. Lances of magic speared out from the auror ranks again and the Lich pitched on the spot, lurching from the impact as graphite dust from the core of the undead exploded violently upon reaching the flames.
A great gaping wound in the creature's chest became apparent after the explosion had run its course, though the wound was quickly filling in. Umbridge cursed slightly, while she was draining it at a steady rate she could maintain the charm for hours, not that hours would have been needed. But with the sudden spike of energy from the explosion her magical buffers were temporarily full and she had to abandon the charm lest she over charge herself and meet a grisly end.
She decided instead to strike back directly. Firing bludgeoning hexes into the creature's midriff, hoping to widen the already closing wound. Her hope would be realized as the Lich exploded in a cataclysm of flame. It was not enough though; the creature's body began to reform from the air as more ectoplasm was forced into the physical world from whatever dimension it existed in naturally.
It was a horrific sight to behold as this monstrosity of black flame pulled itself together and resumed its implacable march forwards under the constant barrage of curses and sorcels being thrown at it. Victoria gritted her teeth, this monstrosity had a titanic number of souls fuelling its power and she had no idea just how much wearing down it would take to destroy it. She needed to banish this thing conventionally, or they would be here all day.
Her hands came up in front of her, one palm facing towards the beast, the other fist clenched and facing the ground. It was the traditional starting point for many archaic rituals, this one no different. What happened next however was somewhat uncommon, the banishing ritual for Liches had been lost to the sands of Egypt and few still knew of its nature.
Her hands snapped out to the sides and a single syllable rolled from her lips, laden with magical power. This was old magic, and the very sound of it rattled the bones of those within hearing.
"Forj"
The creature stumbled slightly, one of its feet sinking into the ground with an inevitable force. Victoria's hands split, the open palm of her left hand circling down to face the ground, the closed fist pointing to the sky. Another word of power was gritted from between her teeth, the effort of pronouncing the ancient magic was physically draining.
"Val"
The Lich's other foot began sinking and it let out a hideous scream of rage as it divined its own fate. Before it could retaliate Victoria's hands came together, one clasped within the other and her feet left the ground, her magic levitating her out of the way of what was to come. Her hair whipped around her and the third word of power ripped from her in a scream, this one hurt.
"Mak"
Blackness opened up beneath the Lich, a circle of nothing, that defied any attempt to identify it. It had a terrible pull, as if the very void of space was sucking the Lich down, and the winds and snow around the event horizon began to stream into the nothingness, only to vanish. With visible strain the Unspeakable began pushing her hands out from her body, as if forcing against some colossal spring. The forth syllable came out in a harsh growl as the primeval magics wrought her emotions as they pleased.
"Rei"
The Lich was now up to its knees and was desperately reaching for anything it could grip on to. A couple of times it tried to cast its own brand of magic at those around, the aurors were watching in awe, but it's attacks merely were diverted down into the abyss below. Victoria could feel her strength nearly spent, but she only had to finish the incantation to end this.
Her head snapped back as a foreign entity invaded her mind, a gigantic alien entity that shoved her thoughts aside and took control of her without effort. It provided the needed power, just as it always had. Her hands moved of their own accord, moving back into the starting posture of one palm, her left, facing outwards, and her closed fist facing down. The last syllable rolled from her lips charged with power and positively quaking with portents.
"Ahn!"
The air shook for a moment and then a shockwave ripped out, flattening the surrounding aurors and tossing Victoria from the air to deposit her on the cobbles some twenty meters away. The Lich gripped the edge of reality for a moment before it was abruptly yanked down into the morass and the blackness closed behind it, snapping shut like the lid of a wooden box.
Inside Victoria's mind the entity vanished and she felt power rushing back into her limbs, power she desperately needed if she were to contain the events happening elsewhere in the country. She rose to her feet, stiff from sudden cold, and looked around. Auror's were getting to their feet all around her and she raised her wand skywards once more. The amount of magic discharged here would have shorted out all of the muggle's recording equipment that tried to assess the scene. But the Auror's would remember what had happened here.
"OBLIVIATE!"
-:-
'Special report for the eyes of the Minister for Magic ONLY
24th December 1997
Today at eleven fifteen this morning three simultaneous terror strikes targeted major civilian centres in England, Scotland and Wales, post encounter reports from the Unspeakables suggest thirty one sacrifices were involved in each ritual. These events caused a Level Merlin Omega alarm that initiated the Auror immediate response division; Albus Dumbledore and Special Operative Unspeakable Umbridge were on the scene within minutes to contain the event.
Final casualties are still coming in but early estimates suggest dead numbering in the hundreds and wounded even more so. Estimated fifteen thousand families affected by the event either directly or indirectly.
Careful monitoring of Muggle telecommunications and television networks has confirmed that the breach of the statute of secrecy has been contained; wizarding sleeper agents inside the IRA have claimed responsibility for the attacks and the Muggle press is unaware of the significance of the true severity of the situation and what could have occurred. For the time being the ICW is adopting a wait and see approach and we have been given free reign over the situation so long as it does not escalate…'
Amelia bones tossed the report to her desk in disgust. She had pushed through massive sweeping reforms in the wake of the public's fear of Voldemort's return but it wasn't enough, she had crippled his traditional follower base but somehow that fanatical tyrant had rustled up ninety three sycophantic volunteers for this attack.
She leaned forwards towards her desk, head cradled in both hands, not a month in office and she already had the blood of hundreds on her hands. The worst thing was, she doubted that the attacks would stop here. Glancing at the clock and then at her letter parchment she reached for a sheet. She needed to write a letter.
-:-
"Just this morning three massive explosions could be heard in the middle of London, Edinburgh and Cardiff. Emergency services have reached the centre of the disturbance and a veritable charnel house has been found with the dead strewn about Piccadilly Circus, Edinburgh Park and Culverhouse Cross. Early estimates of casualties are in the mid hundreds as the blasts caught holiday shoppers in the early morning trade hours in the holiday period.
The IRA has already claimed responsibility for the attacks and this reporter wonders if British Military actions in Ireland have provoked these vicious attacks of terror…"
The television in the Granger's living room muted suddenly and Hermione dashed into her father's arms. The family had finished their holiday shopping the day before and Harry felt like they had dodged the proverbial bullet as the camera crews panned over what looked like a war torn London, thought it was hard to tell with such a crackly image, for whatever reason there was a lot of distortion in the video feed.
Something caught Harry's eye and he tried to get a closer look but the camera panned past. He waited patiently even as Emma came and wrapped him in a tender hug which he returned with equal affection. As the camera panned back he took a closer look and growled in the back of his throat. A muggle would discount it as residual smoke but there were still wisps of necromancy around the crater in Piccadilly Circus, that coupled with the camera distortion led him to one conclusion;` this wasn't an IRA bombing, this was the work of Valmortis, or Voldemort.
Hermione glanced over at him and they locked eyes, Hermione's somewhat tearful at the shock of it all, and a stream of thoughts passed between them. After a moment Harry stood, gently disentangling from Emma who, along with her husband, looked confused.
"This was a magical terror attack; even on the television I can spot residual traces of necromancy though it looks like the ministry has done a decent cover up. I need to send a letter to Dumbledore."
The Granger parents looked at each other with a somewhat distressed expression. The thought between them was clear to all in the room.
"Was anywhere safe anymore?"
-:-
Harry had woken up that morning in delightful warm bliss; Hermione had apparently anticipated his infirmity acting up in the colder weather and had moved him to the bath to warm him up even before he woke. It was one of the single most thoughtful things anyone had ever done for him and he loved her even more for it.
He had ended up downstairs in the familiar environs of the family's relaxation arrangement, Emma and Dan curled up together on the loveseat and Harry and Hermione lying sideways on the couch with Hermione nestled under Harry's chin and left arm as it wrapped around her midriff. The morning had progressed calmly enough after breakfast had been eaten and the family had settled down for a bit of relaxation and quiet conversation in front of the television. But things had quickly soured with the morning news report that had obliterated all semblance of a relaxing morning with the news of yet another attack.
Now here was harry, on Christmas eve morning writing a letter to his headmaster hoping for more information on what he, harry, had guessed to be a wizarding terror attack. Privately Harry suspected Valmortis' involvement, necromancy was more his style than Voldemort's as far as Harry could tell. From everything he had heard Voldemort tended to bolster his ranks with magical creatures, live ones, like dementors and giants, rather than utilising the dead.
The strategies used by Voldemort and his lieutenant were very different but Harry could not honestly say he could prefer one over the other. Both, after all, were designed to cause maximum terror in the population.
Hedwig was more than happy to take wing with the letter clamped firmly between the halves of her beak. Harry leaned against the window sill and was startled at his raw emotion over the event. He was angry, furious even; that all of this was happening and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. Here he was, out of the public eye, relaxing with his adopted family and his soul mate while people were being slaughtered simply by merit of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. It galled him to have to let Valmortis have his head here, for there was naught that he could do.
And he knew it.
-:-
Hermione was a bundle of emotions, relief that they hadn't been shopping that day, sadness for those who had lost their lives, worry over Harry's declaration, helplessness over her inability to aid those in need, anger at the callousness and hate displayed by those on the other side of the war. She was sure that some of Harry's emotions were bleeding over to her, though his dominating emotion at the time was rage.
Rarely did Hermione see Harry in such a state, he was famously slow to anger, preferring to get even than get mad, only a scant few times had she seen his anger truly aroused, and this was one of the worst times she had ever seen. Quietly she was thankful that he was such a noble soul, his anger was righteous, directed, focused, if he had been any less a man she would have feared for her own safety such was his ire.
Carefully she probed the bond and isolated the root cause of his anger, and there it was, sure enough he was angry at his own inability to help others, he was angry at being forcefully side-lined while people were fighting for their lives. Carefully she extracted the core of his anger and calmed it, directed it towards more productive pursuits, like bettering himself through training or knowledge so that when it did come to be time to fight, he would be unstoppable.
Hermione had asked for, and received, detailed texts from Professor Umbridge on the nature of soul bonds and the way magical potency was calculated. Along with Lily's journal which was surprisingly laden with references to soul magic Hermione was accumulating a variety of methods by which they, that being Harry and herself, could match, or even overmatch, the forces arrayed against them. The first thing they needed to do was access better magical foci; their wands were pedestrian at best, students' wands. They needed wands similar to what Professor Umbridge had, a battle wand.
Typically speaking wands were about as powerful as the magical creature the material came from, phoenix feathers and dragon heartstrings were common and powerful, especially in Ollivander wands. But they had limits, what they really needed were human heartstrings.
It was a decidedly morbid topic really, the idea of crafting a wand that had muscle fibre from a human heart inside it. But in reality it wasn't that uncommon, or strange. Humans after all were magical creatures, the most powerful of living magical creatures in fact. However one did not typically take the heartstring from another human; instead a ritual would be performed where one would extract a heartstring of one's own to core their wand. But Hermione had theorized that if she and Harry had a wand with one another's heartstrings in them, then they could magnify the power of their bond by a factor even as high as nine: Though that would only occur later in life when they were significantly more powerful in their own right.
She hadn't noticed but she had meandered upstairs amidst her thoughts and was now ensconced in Harry's arms, comfortably relaxing against his chest as they sat in the window seat of their room and looked out onto the snowy grass behind the house. She tilted her head up and nuzzled at his jawbone with her cheek. It was a decidedly feline gesture but it was one she enjoyed, the sensation of his stubble brushing against her sensitive cheeks was heavenly, and she knew Harry enjoyed her being so touchy.
She was rewarded with a husky moan as his lips dipped to her throat and she gasped as he kissed her pulse point, threatening to suck. She could feel the tension rolling from him in waves, it was always the way with Harry, caged behind safety he would pace and stamp like a bull enclosed in paling, building tension within himself. Often times that tension released sexually with her, but this was not the time, she wasn't sure she could muster the mood required for such activities and she gently warded him off with her mind.
Instead she turned and pressed a chaste, but loving, kiss against his jawbone, once more enjoying the feeling of his stubble on her sensitive skin. She kissed him again, lips trailing towards his, her hand going around behind his head to hold him in place gently as she approached her goal.
Aroused she might not be, but Hermione Granger would not turn down the chance to kiss her man, and Harry knew it. His hands went around her hips and held the small of her back intimately as his rough and somewhat dry lips pressed to hers firmly and with love. She felt it roiling off him in waves that filled the air around her with his musk. She was certain that he had a latent talent to make those around him feel his emotions; even before the bond she had always noticed his moods. That said she was particularly well attuned to him.
They stayed liked like that for a few moments, celebrating life with one another before relaxing in the pale light reflecting off the snow that was streaming through the window on the frigid day. Eventually Hermione nudged Harry's mind and suggested her ideas about the wands, she got tentative agreement from him and pushed more information about the ritual across the bond. He seemed hesitant about the implications of using human organs in their wands and what physical side effects could come from tampering with their own hearts.
She couldn't say she really blamed him, it was a rather distasteful concept and she wasn't totally sure about the side effects that could come from the kind of ritual that could involve. They would have to talk to Dumbledore and Umbridge, maybe even Ollivander if they could find the time to do so.
There was little they could do with the snow falling in the streets however and she settled back into his arms to enjoy the chill morning beauty for a few more minutes. It was short-lived however as soon they were called down to talk by Emma and Dan.
-:-
Hermione hugged Harry to her side as they sat down, unwilling to let him leave physical contact after their emotionally charged moment. Dan fixed her with a worried look, Emma seemed to be giving the same to Harry.
"How do we avoid being victims of something like this happening?"
It was her father who had spoken, he looked rattled, scared even, more so than she had ever seen him before. That, more than anything gave her chills. Daniel Granger had been in a war, a bone fide war, and had lived through it. She didn't know anyone alive, bar maybe her Harry, who was as steadfast and brave, and here he was, obviously worried to leave his own home. Honestly it broke her heart.
Harry's hand squeezed hers firmly and he did his best to answer.
"Off the top of my head I have no idea, your lively hood revolves around you going elsewhere to work, you'd need to go shopping weekly, or for other odds and ends, there's no real way to avoid being out of the house, where you are quite safe. The best way to deal with the problem would be to minimise risk I think, don't go to the same super market the same week in a row, and try not to fall into a pattern. Take the back roads to work in the morning, and when you come home. Try to avoid main shopping centres or other public venues as much as possible. I'll ask Dumbledore more about it when next I get the chance, likely when Hedwig returns with the reply to my letter to him.
For the rest of the holidays at least though I think we should be safe. I'm not sure what was summoned in Piccadilly, but it was big to have caused that much chaos. And what sound like two identical or near identical attacks happened in other parts of the island, he lost a lot of resources today, and Valmortis, of Voldemort, whichever it is that's making these attacks, won't be able to do so again for some time. Again, hopefully I'll get more details in the next few hours to share."
Hermione couldn't help but feel rather proud of her young man. He had come a long way from the somewhat timid and broken boy who had fled to her home in the summer holidays for asylum and the hope of some happiness. He was growing into a powerful and decisive leader who knew how to assess a situation. She was sure he would only get more confident and skilled as time went on, ultimately though the thing that she was most proud of was his demeanour. She could feel the worry rushing through him like a toxin but he sounded calm and collected, intending to keep their parents calm.
"We should be okay here for a few more days at the very least. Worst comes to the worst we get the Order to organise food deliveries and we all lay low until the war is over, but I hope it doesn't come to that, if it does we'll be in deep cactus."
Harry shot her an amused look
"Deep cactus? Really?" Echoed through her mind
She blushed slightly
"You know how I feel about swearing."
Harry's amused look deepened and he sent her a memory of her own voice swearing encouragements to him in a rather passionate tone. Her blush deepened and she heard laughter from their parents. Turning she found Emma leaning heavily on the chair her husband was sitting in and hugging one arm to her stomach as she laughed, Dan was in the process of slapping his knee and had his head thrown back, roaring away.
That accursed blush.
It was obvious what they were laughing at, Hermione never blushed. It came into the same category as giggling and on the rare occasions when it happened it was usually because of something truly smutty brought up in casual conversation. That meant that her parents were probably imagining the conversation going on in her bond with Harry and they probably knew exactly what the subject matter was.
She leaned forwards and buried her face in her hands as Harry massaged her shoulder lightly with one hand while he chuckled away. She wouldn't trade her family for anything, but did they insist on taking a mile when given an inch?
-:-
Christmas day was uneventful for the most part. News stories and debates over the purpose of the bombing were depressing to watch. It was amazing how clueless the rest of the muggle world was to what was all around them. Fortunately the television was mostly occupied by typical Christmas day programs and even then, Harry and Hermione barely watched the TV. Sirius and Remus arrived later in the day after sending a letter beforehand, partly to spend the holiday with Harry and his family, and partly to deliver Dumbledore's reply to Harry's letter, which was deemed too sensitive for owl post.
The letter itself was somewhat concise, barely fifteen lines. But it held within that sparse wasteland of text, a wealth of valuable information, much in the same way that priceless diamonds rest beneath the desolate sands of Africa.
It told them of the nature by which the attacks had happened, the summoning and subsequent banishment of the undead, more to the point it mentioned that Umbridge had been on the scene as well as Dumbledore himself. Few more details were given however, but it was enough for Harry and Hermione to know more or less what had happened, and that an immediate meeting of the order had been called. He and Hermione would have attended but due to the snow and nature of the roads it was impossible to transport them securely and information would be given to them at the soonest possible time.
There was little more for them to do than settle in and wait.
-:-
The news that reached them the next day was less than helpful, nothing conclusive had been decided by the Order that Harry and Hermione needed to be appraised of, especially as they weren't official members by their own decisions. In the last few days of the holidays it was decided that there was something for them to know however, and quite out of the blue Tonks arrived at the Granger's Oxford home.
They made the somewhat rapid journey back to headquarters courtesy of the time travelling car and were immediately ushered up into the training room where Moody sat them down with a grimace.
"I've been arguing with Albus day in and day out for a month about this, you two have needed to learn about it for quite some time but the old codger has been resistant. Last night he finally caved. What do you two know about power expanding restrictors and words of power?"
Harry and Hermione both shook their heads calmly but in their minds they were buzzing with excitement, this sounded important.
"Nothing sir"
Moody's gruff grunt was about as much as they had come to expect from him by way of reply, soon though he expanded on his monosyllabic answer.
"You two are powerful, between you you've done some incredible things, and either of you when drawing on your bond's power can overwhelm Albus or myself in sheer strength, if not skill and speed, though you're still having trouble keeping up with the geezer."
Both Harry and Hermione grinned at Mad Eye's name for the ancient wizard, clearly whatever this was the argument had been spectacular.
"But Tom is stronger, Umbridge has covered soul bonds in class with you and power levels, this is related, I'm not cleared to give you the details as to how, or really what, but Riddle has used a variety of methods to greatly amplify his power, it's one of the reasons he can maintain the Tempus Personae's drain on his magic."
He turned abruptly and began pacing, this was not out of character for the retired auror, once he had mentioned that it eased the pain from his false leg.
"So how do we give you two the power to contest him? Because mark you my words, that's what this is going to come down to, not politics or armies, it's going to come down to you and him in a contest of raw strength, it always does with his type. That's the problem we're facing here, fortunately there is a solution: Power expanding limiters."
Harry glanced sideways at Hermione and was amused to see her nearly off her seat with excitement, rarely did he see her like this anymore, as bonding with him had tempered her natural over eagerness for information, but this was something profound and he wouldn't take her excitement away from her. In the back of his mind he felt her gratitude rushing through him for his thoughts.
"The premise is that your souls are the main limits to your magical growth, and because it's impossible for us to manipulate the soul, we have to get around it somehow. That's where limiters come in, the name is actually a misnomer, they don't actually limit your magic, and rather they limit the rate at which your magic can renew itself. Let's say we apply a single limit to your powers, roughly halving them at the time of casting.
From that point onwards your souls will begin to split their power, giving you magic at about half the normal rate, but also filling up a reservoir with the other half of that power that would normally be going nowhere. Once that reservoir is full, and we can teach you how to detect this, you can temporarily drop the limitations and gain access to not only your own power, but all the power stashed away in those reservoirs, doubling your strength for a short period of time.
Once they're empty the limiters will automatically snap back into place to fill them up again. This sounds great in theory but the problem is that it's addictive, once you've dropped the limiter once, and felt all that raw power at your disposal, you'll want more, you'll want more limiters in place so that you can access even more of that power in ever increasing amounts. The issue is that each subsequent casting will half the amount of power you have available to you normally."
Hermione butted in in her typical manner
"Well that's easily fixed, just cast it on us once, and don't tell us the incantation, surely having double the strength would be worth it when we really need it."
Moody frowned at her slightly
"Sure, that would be fine, except you'd both have to cast the spell on yourselves."
"Oh"
The grunt Hermione got in affirmation was somewhat dry and the room fell silent as Harry and Hermione contemplated this new option to them.
-:-
Harry was bewildered by the idea, it was so alien to him to want to portion off a part of his power for use later, and honestly it scared him a little. Hermione had touched on the fact a few times as she had sifted through his memories; But like most teens Harry had an addictive personality. It was most apparent in his relationship with her, he would experience something he enjoyed, and he would want more of it, crave it even, fortunately his iron clad will was capable of preventing those urges from actually manifesting, but he doubted he would be so strong in the face of such power.
Hermione soothed his racing thoughts with a sweep of her mind and he let himself be bathed in her affection as she calmed him. Her cool logic flowing through his mind with pros and cons. The pros were obvious, with some care they could double, triple, or even quadruple their power. But each increase would result in a massive weakening of their ability to sustain their magic, and their carefully trained stamina would take a massive hit, Hermione's more than Harry's as, for whatever reason, she was somewhat less inclined towards endurance than he.
The cons were blatant, with the aforementioned loss of stamina and readily available power would also come the chance of an addiction that could be a very real threat to their livelihoods. In the end they both agreed that the risk was too great, this was far too dangerous for them to try, as a last resort maybe this would be applicable, but even then they had to live after the war as well, and such an addiction could follow them for the rest of their lives. Worse it would be totally irreversible.
There was really only one decision to make.
-:-
Alastor couldn't help but be nervous, this was a gamble that he had argued with Albus about for months, the issue was that either Harry or Hermione, more likely Hermione, would stumble across this ritual eventually anyway, and there would be a chance that they would cast it without knowing the implications and side effects. He was hoping that being told now they would make the same decision they had in July to hold off from casting the spell on themselves until they absolutely had no other option.
He looked at them steadily, with his good eye at least, the other one was currently tracking the movements of a spider above him that he was a bit worried would drop down into his hair; he hated spiders. The two teens were communicating between themselves, he could see that much, but what they were saying in that bond of theirs he had no idea. When finally Harry spoke though, he let out a sigh of relief.
-:-
"No, honestly the risks are too great, we can find another way."
Harry's words were strong and he believed in them. They could find another way, they would, failure to do so was not an option.
"What else did you want to teach us Mad Eye, something about words of power?"
He felt like changing the subject was the best course of action, there was no point dwelling on the decision, they would live with it regardless and he was eager to learn more about what the grizzled ex auror had mentioned, they sounded intriguing.
"Aye, Words of Power, this is deep magic, reaching back to the very origins of civilization when wizards were more alike to forces of nature, when magic itself was unfettered by spells and restrictions. What I'm about to teach you is similar to sorcery, but much more dangerous, and it has to be carefully controlled, else you could lose your life in a careless act. The basic premise is a single syllable that you key to an intention, for instance."
He raised his right hand and barked out a shapeless sound, with a sharp crack a fist shaped hole appeared in the wall of the training room.
"This place is heavily warded remember, typically that spell acts like a giant jab sorcel, punching a barrel sixed hole in whatever my hand is pointing at, it's fast, brutal, and unexpected. But it takes a lot of power and focus. Dumbledore has a word of power keyed to mass obliviation; apparently he used it in the past to pacify muggle populations that had seen magic. It's imprecise though and he doesn't like to use it now that more detailed obliviation can be done. It takes longer but it's gentler on the recipient.
Anyway, between you two you probably have the power and creativity to have a tiny arsenal of these things hidden away. A final massive advantage is that they're wandless, they're less powerful as a result, but you can use them even when disarmed or tied up. To get you started I'm going to teach you one of my favourites, it taxes me to no end but you two should have no problem with it."
Harry watched as Alastor barked another shapeless command and suddenly disappeared, and reappeared instantly about ten meters to the right, he looked slightly more haggard however.
"Wandless apparition, most wizards who're in the know call it blinking for obvious reasons, it's silent, wandless, and doesn't have that awful crushing feeling, issue is that it's limited to line of sight, and you can't blink more than a few hundred meters over clear terrain. Vertically is even tougher, though for you two I imagine the rules could be bent a little.
You should each pick a different sound for each of your words of power, Dumbledore isn't sure how your bond could interact with the magic, one of you might use a word of power and both of you might end up using the magic, problematic when blinking as both of your physical bodies might end up in the same spot."
Harry looked a little green at the thought of what that would do to them, he loved Hermione, and loved being close to her, but there was such a thing as too close.
"One final thing, you can't do this silently, the word has to be spoken as you're keying the magic to intent and sound, rather than simply intent with words and wand movement to guide it. Stand up now and get some space around you."
Harry did so and saw the familiar hoop appear in front of him that he had used in apparition training.
"I want each of you to pick a sound to use, separate from each other, monosyllabic is best, and apparate into the circle, vocalising the sound as you do so, repeat this until you start saying the sound without thinking about it, at that point start trying to apparate without your wands, while saying the sound. We can work on turning it into blinking later as that takes a bit of work."
So for the next few hours Harry and Hermione trained again, it reminded them both strongly of their time during the summer and to their great happiness they both found by the end of the day that they could both apparate silently without their wands, though the horrible crushing feeling was still present. Apparently it would dissipate with practise and eventually they would be able to blink even while holding their wands by speaking the sound they chose instead of twisting on the spot.
-:-
The next morning Harry woke up, and for the first time in weeks he could move freely, and he wasn't resting in a steaming bath either; sunlight was streaming through the window and his beautiful girlfriend was wrapped around him. Hermione's bare legs brushing against his and her soft pillowy breasts sandwiching his arm. Frankly it was heavenly and he never wanted to move.
Turning his head slightly he locked eyes with Hermione and they shared a tender kiss before breaking apart slowly. The smile on her face was peaceful, knowing her she had been awake for some time and was quite content to simply watch him. Her hand stroked along his upper arm and she spoke quietly.
"It's so good to see you wake up not and not be in pain love."
His heart swelled with emotion for her and his own hand came up to cup her cheek, he simply held her like that for a moment, letting his emotions run through the link before asking softly.
"What time is it love?"
Her smile broadened
"It's around ten, plenty of time for us to get up, apparently you were very, very tired after our fun last night."
Harry couldn't help but grin and roll atop her kissing her neck and growling softly.
"I wouldn't have been so tired if you hadn't kept me up till four in the morning with that sexy mouth of yours. Did I ever end up returning you the favour last night? Or did I fall asleep like the typical man."
She grinned wryly up at him and fluttered her eyelids in an uncharacteristically feminine fashion.
"Oh you repaid the favour alright. I almost thought we were going to go all the way last night with how excited you were."
Groaning in contentment he sank down over her, careful not to rest his full weight on her body, and buried his face into the crook of her neck, breathing deep. She smelled divine.
"You spoil me sweetheart."
"No more than you spoil me love. Now come on, I want to take you into town today, and get you a new pair of dress trousers, you've near grown out of yours and I feel like treating you to something after last night."
Harry smiled into her neck
"Aren't I supposed to be the one who takes you out on the town and treats you to things?"
She took his face in her hands and brought him up so that she could fix him with a stern look.
"Harry James Potter. If I want to take you out and buy something for you, you had better just be thankful, you were magnificent last night, in more ways than one, and you deserve every good thing coming your way. You put up with so much every day just to keep me happy, and more last week, and more to the point, I want to celebrate the first pain free morning of the year for you."
He couldn't argue with that, and so it was that he allowed his girlfriend, his soul mate, his future wife, to tug him out of bed, goad him into clothes, and then poke him out the door amidst amused looks from the other family members. The day was looking up.
-:-
On a desolate hillside in the Welsh countryside the sun crested gloriously with dawn's first light. And atop that hillside was a ring of corpses. Pale skinned with light black fur adorning their upper arms and lower legs. Mouths filled with flat tombstone like teeth designed for crushing and grinding, and flaxen hair that looked to be in strips rather than strands. They were unseelie fey, winter fairies of nature, immortal and powerful. Their throats were bared and bloody, running thick with blue ichor that stained the ground for many meters in all directions.
In the middle of this abattoir of still dripping corpses, some that had obviously been dragged to the place, was a beautiful young woman, fair skinned, fair haired, with silvery grey eyes and full plump lips. A beautiful alluring body with blessed with womanly curves and flawless unblemished skin. Her lips, perfect as they were, were currently fastened to the throat of one of the corpses, and the skin of her lower jaw was stained blue.
Deep suckling sounds came from the woman's mouth as she drank greedily from the veins of the immortal creatures. The being whom she fed from raised a weak hand, the last vestiges of life in such a powerful creature, one that had lived since before the ages of men, and with a tender care that spoke of understanding shared between two souls, stroked the young woman's cheek, even as she took its life blood into herself.
She had gorged herself for hours upon these creatures, these willing victims who had gone to battle with her, love and respect in their hearts for another immortal child from the danger to life that was winter herself. When at last the Fey's hand fell limp the young woman stepped away from the body and, with a long prehensile tongue, cleaned her chin and lips, wiping them dry of any unseemly evidence.
It was not to be so simple however as her skin was dyed blue from the creature's blood, though it would wash out simply enough. She looked unfulfilled, as though the twenty litres of immortal blood that she had drained that night was not enough, and truly it wasn't. She had fully exsanguinated the corpses; any leftover was either; spillage or staining, rather than flowing fluid.
She felt powerful, alive, strong and dominant. She had travelled the length and breadth of these islands, slaughtering all manner of magical beasts and folk, her stale dry veins now thrummed with power, and though her heart had been stilled she could almost feel it racing in anticipation of what to come.
An elegant smile upon her lips she turned to the rest of the valley and gazed upon the amassed legions of the damned that her father had dredged up from all over Great Britain. There were Inferi and skeletons of all shapes and sizes, but there were also vampires, and the odd ghoul chained and caged. But the young woman knew her place, they were all lesser undead, common, filth, she was royalty. The power that thrummed in her veins was untapped as of yet, but it did enhance her natural beauty and physical abilities.
She was a god amongst the undead: A powerful, indomitable figure that oozed power and command, not to mention sensuality and kinship for the vampires. She was Nosferatu, she was their leader.
Her father had taught her as much, he had instilled in her a sense of power and purpose, he was away at the moment, travelling for his own purposes, but he had left their family under her temporary command, their family.
It was such a strange notion to her, family, her father was family of course, he had raised her this last year, taught her how to be strong, fast, beautiful. He had given her tools of survival and power, of advancement and beauty, and he had named her, given her purpose. He was her father and she trusted his word like it had come from her very own lips.
Her blood, stale and unmoving though it was, was rich with the blood of many other species, and now it had immortal blood too. She had thoroughly gorged herself, trying to take in as much of the magic rich blood as she could, trying to reignite her magic, her dormant powers that supposedly she had possessed once upon a time. It was hard to believe, but her father had told her, so surely it must be the truth.
He Fey had come to her of their own free will, bored of existence, and wanting to be end their time on the earth with a powerful statement they had given themselves to her, and she had taken from them eagerly.
But still she felt hollow, she always felt hollow, as if there were a vital component missing from her body, from her very soul. Not even her father could fill that void, she sometimes wished he would take her into his arms and hug her, hold her against the cold of the moors. She was tired, the constant bloodshed gnawed at her senses and though he told her she was beautiful, she felt ugly, dirty, though he told her she was powerful, she felt weak, though he told her she was royalty, she felt like scum.
For taking the lives of the innocent, and so on the top of a hill, in the middle of the Irish countryside, where the undead lay waiting in ordered ranks and file, an undead girl cried for that which she did not know she missed.
-:-
AN3: Epine's story is coming together, I wanted to show her confusion here, how she's being sent mixed signals and how she doesn't know how to deal with her existence. She's not an unthinking beast, Fleur Delacour's soul still resides within her, and it is a gentle soul. This is not the end for Epine, merely the beginning.
On a side note I wanted to work into this chapter some kind of reference to a spike of grief in Harry over the lives he and Hermione have taken, but it just didn't seem to fit, maybe later. Additionally there was originally meant to be a lot more ColdParalysed!Harry angst in this chapter but I just cut all of it out because it felt forced and like I was beating a dead horse with a rusty stick. I replaced it with nice fluffy moments instead, much better.
AN4: I'd like to point out a mistake that I made in recent chapters, I had insinuated that Pavarti originally would be the one who would be in Padma's place, and here I go mixing them up. I'll remedy the mistake in the chapters soon, but from now on Pavarti will be the name used, not Padma.
AN4: From 1969-1997 British armed forces were active within Ireland combating the IRA (Irish Republican Army), no actual bombings took place in Christmas of that year, but they do present a convenient cover story for this work of fiction. No disrespect is meant to the victims or families of victims of terrorist attacks.
AN5: Review Responses:
Whatweareafraidof: I typically don't respond to reviews to 'Deceit' anymore, but this one I felt deserved attention, not because it was worthy of replying to, but rather because it was so impossible to comprehend. I'm not even going to try to respond to your points; I'm just using your review as a showcase for what people shouldn't do when trying to argue with me. Go learn the Queen's English.
jkarr: Thank you! And thanks for taking your time to review.
Shadow Dragon: I can't honestly remember if we talked about this in PM or not, if we didn't shoot me a PM reminding me, but I do want to save a bit of space here because this AN is already quite long.
Beyondthesea: Things are ticking along slowly. You'll see some more fall out from Umbridge coming up soon, and yeah, I've always thought the image of Amelia bones given to us in canon would be a really solid minister for magic. It amuses me that people so often forget her awesome monocle in fanfics though, how could you forget that monocle?
Anotherboarduser: Thankyou! Much appreciated for both your reviews
Icysneasel: Thanks for your vote of confidence! I hope you like some of the other original (Read: modified) characters that are floating around too.
Righto, that's all for another… update? Folks, With the deadline for my actual novel looming this project is being put more and more on the backburner, and it shows, I'm getting far fewer reads and reviews per chapter than I did for deceit, which saddens me somewhat, but at the end of the day I'm writing this story primarily for my own amusement, anyone else who enjoys it is just a bonus.
Tune in next time for Chapter Ten: Cornered: Where we (finally) learn a bit more about Umbridge and what Valmortis has been up to. Harry and Hermione continue with their training and the Regiment gets tested. Thanks for Reading and other Shenanigans, see you next time!
LGreymark
