Disclaimer: Curses! Foiled again – I still don't own Harry Potter…alright, that was a really random reference to something I don't even know, but you get the idea. No, I don't own Harry Potter and no, I haven't been making illegal attempts to do so. Not that you could really.
Anonymous Reviews:
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Account Users: I'm not sure how long this 'non glitch' period will last, but I'm posting this chapter before I finish replying to all of you. Nevertheless, I will be replying to last chapter's reviews.
Chapter Fourteen
Abandoning the still raining atrium, Harry whipped a hand back over his soaking hair, water gelling it out of his face. Cold rivulets poured down his collarbone and threatened to paste his Death Eater robes to his skin.
He let out a sharp outtake of breath that he supposed was meant to be a sigh. Anger pulsed inside him and it took him a moment to digest the fact that it didn't have a clear source. It was ubiquitous; everything over the past three days had been weighing down on him. He had decisions to make that he acknowledged that he had been delaying. He was annoyed that everything had to be so muddled. He was peeved at Hugo for treating the mission as if it were some sort of quidditch game he was a chaser. And of course, he was angry at Yaxley at being one of the reasons why he was here.
His boots squealed, water heaving all over its sides. Grimacing, Harry walked through the gigantic and smoldering hole Yaxley had blown up a while ago. Teddy and Hugo should be coming, he thought and decided to stop. His prisoner convulsed at his side, obviously struggling to withhold an onslaught of slugs. Harry really had to wonder why he had chosen that curse out of the host of ones he knew to cast on the man. It had been satisfying for the first ten seconds, and now he was almost feeling like he may as well have cursed himself.
Averting his eyes when someone belched slugs was harder than it sounded.
Tap, tap, slap, tap, slap! Footsteps – one pair slapping the ground, the other more like a push. Harry knocked a stray wire that had been busted from the wall and stepped into the former Department head's office and current tornado aftermath. Hugo stumbled inside, sweat dappling his brow. Teddy followed, gasping, "Twenty…One…" He sucked in a breath before noticing Harry's cargo. "Is that…the…target?"
Yaxley promptly threw up all over the Hugo's boots.
"Aw, yuck! Gross!" Hugo cried, shaking the unlucky appendage in disgust. "What the bloody Hell was that for?!"
Teddy stepped back, repulsion visible in his eyes. "What did you cast on him?"
"A Slug Vomiting Charm." Pause. "It was pretty spur of the moment."
"Well, kill the spell," Hugo scowled. "I don't want to get any more slime on my robes!"
"…I can't."
"What?"
"I, er, don't know the counter spell."
They just stared. Finally, "You performed a spell that you don't know the counter to on our target?"
"It will wear off in about ten minutes!" Harry defended. It wasn't as if he wasn't regretting that decision either…
"…Let's just keep moving."
Teddy was polite enough not to shoot him another disbelieving look, though that didn't hold true for Hugo. Harry, stepping over Yaxley's newest pile of slimy goodness, walked towards the foyer where the fireteams had been instructed to bring their assigned prey.
It was only after they were walking for a while that he was able to register all the damage they had done to the place. Walls were demolished, in some cases nonexistent. Offices had become an endangered species.
The alarms were giving him a headache.
Abruptly, they shut off. "Thank Merlin," Harry muttered, ears ringing despite the new quietness. Unfortunately, it was replaced by the sound of miserable Ministry officials. Hugo and Teddy were still oblivious to the noise, but Harry, though he wasn't nearly as skilled in distinguishing sounds as he would have liked, could make out occasional scuffle and sudden falls. He judged that the Death Eaters were forcing them to kneel. Some of them might have been inspected in case they were one of the targets.
A tremor rattled the ground. Harry paused slightly but then continued, dismissing it.
They passed through the hall where the Aurors had first met them. At the far end, the hostages became visible and Harry noted that his guess was correct. One of the Death Eaters walked around, plucking wands and throwing them into a Bottomless bag. A couple of the people were bound.
A more grisly picture was illuminated as they neared. The bodies of several red robed men and women were shoved to the side of the room towards the entrance facing the security desk. A large portion was bleeding. All were so…motionless.
Are they…they aren't…?
Beside him, Hugo shifted uneasily and voiced the question to Teddy. The response wasn't instant. Then he said, his voice detached, "Wars aren't won with Stunners."
Bile festered in Harry's throat. "They…all of them…they have a family. They're someone's mum. Someone's dad. Someone's brother, sister, cousin…friend."
The metamorphagus murmured, "The same could be said for our injured. Look." He gestured to a lifeless Death Eater crumpled on the floor, someone leaning over him, likely to activate a portkey. "We've lost our share as well."
"But Aurors start out with low key spells. Most of the Death Eater's went straight for the dangerous ones."
"Yes, but they would've-"
Yaxley broke in by vomiting again.
Teddy wrinkled his nose. "Put him with Fireteam Six." Fireteam Six was the one in charge of evacuating the prisoners as soon as they were obtained.
Harry started to move forward but halted. Guilt flared in his chest. What was going to happen to these people? When he handed Yaxley over, what was going to happen to him? Of course he was still furious at him for even trying to cast the Cruciatus at him, but Yaxley's nonexistent morals aside, Harry's personal feelings aside…wasn't he just exchanging one life for another? Yaxley's for Lucius'? Who was he to say which one was more important?
Another sickening thought hit him. Logically, since Yaxley seemed to be the current head of the Department of Mysteries, he was the more valuable life. If one of them had to be sacrificed for the…for the Greater Good, it should be Lucius.
Merlin. Harry's fists clenched of their own accord. How did people make choices like this and live with themselves?
Was this what Dumbledore had to do? Play people like chess pieces, loathing himself all the while, knowing that he had to go on doing this because if he didn't, if he wasn't willing to be the manipulator, hundreds more would pay for it?
Was this what Hadrian did as well?
"Twenty One?" Teddy's voice pulled him out of his thoughts.
Harry didn't respond. He wondered what Tom would think of him doing all this. He was far more calm and logical. If it had been Tom captured by Voldemort, Harry was convinced that he would have come to a resolution about all his actions far sooner than Harry was.
Look around, Harry. There aren't any aurors. None that could help you, anyway. You have no choice but to give Yaxley away. And wasn't that just partially his fault too?
"Incarcerous." Bindings appeared on Yaxley's ankles and wrists. Harry took a breath and stepped forward to hand the man in his hands off to his possible execution. His right foot echoed slightly as it touched the ground. His awareness of his decision doubled. His left foot fell. It tripled.
An odd cold settled over him. It was as if his heart, burning with conflicting emotions, had suddenly been dosed. The feelings beat coolly inside, dampened and layered with grim resolve. The nearest Fireteam Six member stood in front of him. The coldness rose to beat down the lash of guilt as he stiffly thrust Yaxley at him. The man wretched around to pierce Harry with a look of pure loathing before but Harry had stopped watching midway and began walking back to Teddy and Hugo. A soft whoosh behind him was the only indicator that a portkey had been activated.
Another tremor shook the ground. Harry acknowledged it but otherwise was indifferent. He'd performed the task he was meant to do. With any luck, his work would be judged exceptional enough to earn a decoration. If it did, he hoped that there wouldn't be any celebration; he didn't want to be rewarded for sentencing a person to possible death no matter who it was. Sometimes, he conceded, bad things need to be done. That doesn't mean that they have to be celebrated.
Until Ron and the fireteam he was leading returned, they would all have to wait. That meant that he had time to ponder. He glanced back at the stop where Yaxley had vanished and tried to make sense of what he was doing.
The Death Eaters had charged into the Department, disposed of anyone who might be in there way for one reason or another, and dispatched the aurors. It hadn't escaped Harry's notice that in training, Ron hadn't reminded anyone not to use non-lethal force. Ruthlessness was permitted, though he couldn't be sure whether it was encouraged or not.
A commander is partially responsible for his subordinates' actions. He or she has a duty to make sure that they behave. Then again, Stunners and Disarming spells weren't exactly what one thought of when someone said the word 'firepower'. They were such basic spells that blocking them was laughably easy.
Why draw out the conflict? he could imagine his Dark counterpart saying. Besides, this is war. Why wouldn't we eliminate enemy soldiers? Stunning them makes them capable of fighting another time and injuring our allies.
And torture? Harry asked himself and was surprised at how easily he could guess Hadrian's answer.
Protecting our own is a higher priority than avoiding moral scruples. If he has information I need, I will take it.
Harry started to argue with himself again when he paused. He was trying to justify things that were possibly not justifiable. After all, necessity does not make something right. And doesn't war fall under that category? It is inherently wrong, but it is a necessary evil. But there must be some morality in war.
His eyes traveled to the fallen Aurors. Excessive force? That might be it. If fighting has to be done, then you have to make sure you've used every feasible method before resorting to it. Things should be done because they have to be, not because you get a kick out of it. Otherwise…you're using war as an excuse.
Crash.
Harry's head whipped around. Another quake ran through the floor, sending vibrations thundering up his still-wet feet. He hadn't heard the noise that had made the shockwave; it had either been too far or he had been too distracted. However, the vibrations wrecking the walls were strong enough that he couldn't ignore them. What's happening?
He swept his gaze around the foyer, realizing that Ron and the fireteam that had gone with him still weren't present. What had been their task anyway? It occurred to him that Ron had announced every other fireteam's job to the squad as a whole…except the one he had taken with him. A chill ran down Harry's spine.
An enormous shudder punctured the building. Harry's hand instinctively darted for his wand. Where was Ron? He highly doubted that mini earthquakes in an underground complex full of dangerous magical creatures could be a positive, and he didn't like the idea of Ron anywhere near the epicenter.
He's not your Ron, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. Uneasily, Harry agreed with it, but even if they were different people, he didn't want anyone to get hurt.
Which is rather hypocritical, don't you think, considering what you did today?
Harry swiped the comment from his mind. Something was stampeding towards them at breakneck speed. He tensed and waited. Whatever it was, it was charging up from the lower levels where the magical creatures in transit were kept.
Wait – it's coming from where the magical creatures are kept?
He had less than a second to comprehend what that might mean before the previously shut double doors closing off the lower levels blew apart and an olive-black dragon emerged from inside.
Harry froze in shock. The creature bellowed, the incredible decibels stabbing the air, until it was shoved aside by yet another dragon, a Common Welsh Green.
Hissing at the shove, the olive one snaked out of the doorway, slashing its tail to its side to clear away Ministry officials and Death Eaters it deemed invading its personal space. The unlucky fireteam nearest to it bolted out of the way, the scaly limb lashing over their heads. A couple of them barely got out of the way and crashed to the floor; a swipe of the dragon's forearms knocked them into the air.
Whoever was next to him swore and blasted off a hex. Harry, still too stunned to move, only watched as the curse was partially absorbed by the dragon's hide, a snapping snout in the caster's direction the only acknowledgement that it had felt the attack.
They're only juveniles, he cataloged vaguely, flashing back to his own unfortunate encounter with a certain Hungarian Horntail. They couldn't be more that thirty feet fully extended.
Screams brought him out of the observation. This time, Harry did his own cursing, not all of it literal, as the infuriated pair trampled further into the foyer. A group of hostages were in dangerously close vicinity to the olive one's feet.
"Accio!"
The man about to be crushed by the dragon's movement flew towards him, but Harry didn't have time to make sure he landed gently as he repeated the spell for the person about to meet the fate he'd just spared the man from, courtesy of the Common Welsh.
Death Eaters broke formation; bound prisoners wriggled futilely and desperately across the floor to crawl away from the approaching creatures. No, Harry wanted to yell. Though he hadn't articulated the thought, he believed that since the Death Eaters had put all these people in danger, it was their responsibility to get them out of it. If they died, it would be their fault – Harry's fault. Don't break formation! You're the only ones capable of protecting these wandless people!
He was about to shout the order, but then remembered that he was the newest recruit; he had no authority. Not only that, but if he did say something, given his position, it would almost be seen as a slight to Ron, who was the designated leader in this operation.
Can you afford to undermine Ron and the others, who have seniority over you? Your potential decorations could be in jeopardy.
The two choices were knocked from his mind when the olive roared. His hands flew to his ears, but even as he tried to cover them, he realized he could make out two words: 'where' and 'brood'.
Deciphering what it meant from those two words would take more conjecture than Harry could spare at the moment. It was the fact that he could understand it that caught his attention.
Of course! Parseltongue was the language of snakes. Dragons were related. It made sense that he could understand at least part of what the dragon was saying. However, he figured it was like a person trying to speak Italian and hope a Spaniard would know what he meant; Harry could barely get the gist of it was. The fact that the 'dragon speak' was a mixture of Parseltongue-like hissing and roars didn't make comprehension any easier.
When another batch of Death Eaters scrambled backwards, it became clear to Harry that they were just as panicked as everyone else. Ron wasn't present at the moment; the apparent loss of their commander had massacred morale. On top of that, training hadn't taken into account a sudden outbreak of two juvenile dragons. They were hardly feeling generous enough to risk their lives unless for anyone but themselves.
His daze drifted from the people to the dragons. The incredibly enraged dragons. Harry had spoken to snakes; he knew that they could be related to through human psychology. If the dragons were human, Harry would say the panic and anger of their captivity was mainly the cause of their attack. Dragons had tempers; if these two were anything like the Horntail, he doubted spells were going to make them any calmer.
But words? What if –
You're not actually considering using Parseltongue in front of every Death Eater here, are you? the part of him that was either logic or self-preservation was incredulous.
He was torn. What was he going to do? This world's Death Eaters thrived on stereotypes about Dark magic and likely believed all of them. If Harry revealed that he could speak to snakes, it was highly probable that he wouldn't only be labeled as a Dark wizard, which, he thought, was rather ironic considering the Death Eaters were said to be Dark themselves, but be persecuted as well.
Come on, Harry! Think, think, think, thin - !
"Twenty One, stop standing around!" Hugo gave him a push. "Do something!" As the olive dragon reared back and flapped its wings, pounding air currents into their faces, Harry took Hugo's unwittingly given advice. Harry ran forward, hollering in Parseltongue. "Stop! Stop!"
His acute hearing lapped up each and every horrified/shocked gasp. He shoved the realization that he was feeling an inexplicable clench in his chest at the reactions away. He knew it was an instinctive response to rejection and he shouldn't let it divert his attention.
A harsh reptilian snout snapped at him in response to his efforts at communication. Harry ducked just in time, ears protesting as savage gutturals tore from the dragon's throat. Wonderful, he carped. It was like trying to decipher the world's heaviest accent and a vaguely familiar language in one. The only phrase he could make out, and even that was a guess, was "let me out!"
"You're hurting these people – just calm down- !" He propelled himself to the floor just in time to avoid getting his skull bashed from its tail. "Stop it! I'm trying to help!"
The roar that sent shockwaves throughout the walls was completely incomprehensible. Jaws descended. Harry rolled out of the way and leapt to his feet. "Sectumsempra!" The curse nicked its hide, and he was forced to dive out of the way as it attempted to slap him with its wings.
Harry nimbly sprang to his feet. Snape's borderline Dark curse wasn't working and it was one of the most adept spells he knew that cleanly pierced objects/creatures. He didn't even have to try a reducto to know that it would pale in comparison to the already insignificant sectemsempra's effect.
Its scales are magic resistant! He forced himself to think logically as he dodged. You have to try something else. TheConjunctivitus Curse? Sirius had said that he had been planning to suggest it to him for the Triwizard Tournament. It was worth a shot.
He fired it off, remembering to aim for its eyes, but the great lizard had jerked its head away at the last minute. Nevertheless, he had hit close to his target. It thrashed in fury.
In hindsight, Harry thought he should have guessed that a creature as temperamental as a dragon wouldn't be taken down or pacified by a spell that cause it pain, but it was too late now. The dragon blindly struck out at anything around it, and Harry barely managed to Banish and Summon people out of the way in time.
An agonized cry to his right told him that someone had been injured. His eyes snapped towards the sound. The non-Death Eaters were scrambling in every direction for a way out. Naturally, the sudden onslaught of tiny bodies was further inciting the dragon's wrath.
They'll get themselves killed like that! Harry ran in a circle around the dragon he was attempting to talk to and it whirled around to follow. He was probably going to have to risk insulting Ron and the rest of the Death Eaters. They needed someone to direct them, and if Ron wasn't there…"Sonorus. Lambda, let them get to the elevators!"
"What?"! He heard someone yell, the tone anger mingled with fear. "We were told to-"
"Do you honestly think that aurors won't be alerted to come here anyway?" Harry shouted back.
"You're a Dark wizard!"
He was ashamed to say that, with adrenaline as the icing on the cake, he actually smirked at the irony before wiping it off his face. "I don't have time to argue with you! Just-"
"Let them leave!" Ron's voice rang throughout the foyer on the Sonorus Charm. "Get the dragons to the surface!"
Harry almost cheered at the redhead's timely appearance, almost ready to chalk it down to divine intervention. Ron sent a Banishing spell at the nearest dragon. It knocked it off balance long enough for Harry to cross the foyer back to Teddy and Hugo. "Quietus." Then the order registered. The surface?
The surface?
Shifting into his animagus form, Ron deftly evaded the two dragons' movements and reached the other side where the majority of the Death Eaters were. He slid back into his human body, his presence visibly taming his subordinates, who were already hurrying to obey his orders.
Harry had only been in 'Death Eater boot camp' for three days; he hadn't been there long enough to have the impulse to question an authority figure's orders based on his own feelings beaten out of him. The surface was the Microsoft building they were under and the city surrounding it.
Harry started to object, "But the Statute of-"
"Follow your orders! This space is enclosed. If we don't get them out of here, it will be a bloodbath!" After a pause, Harry gave a curt nod. Saving people's lives were more important to him than keeping the Ministry happy. "Stunners on my mark!"
It would only be later after he mulled over everything that had happened that day that Harry would recall how completely unsurprised Ron was by the appearance of such a seemingly unlikely situation. He'd also find it significant that the fireteam that had gone with Lambda's leader hadn't had their objectives broadcasted to the squad like the rest of their duties were and how he seemed to be going against common knowledge that Stunners were ineffective against dragons and ordering it anyway.
Since so much of this universe was consistent with his own, Harry kew that he could reasonably say that Charlie worked with dragons here, too. Ron would know that if they seriously wanted to bring down a dragon, he should have ordered them to target a specific point in the dragon; the combined spells would have an effect, but one spell on a variety of locations wouldn't do anything.
The Death Eaters, gaining confidence in the presence of their leader, started to put up a resistance. "Mark!" Red lights hit the dragons but dissipated on contact.
Harry backed up a step and stumbled before regaining his footing. What had been in his way? He glanced back. Skeeter's handbag was the apparent culprit. Harry glared at the reporter, who was cowering a few feet away. There was an oddly speculative look in her eyes that he really didn't like.
She couldn't possibly be thinking of writing a story at a time like this could she? "Get out of here!" he yelled just in case. The woman was twisted; who knew what she thought? "Use the elevators!"
He turned back at the sound of one of the dragons snarling. This isn't working, Harry thought as he assessed the situation. Spells aren't going to work. I have to find another way.
Suddenly Ron launched a confringo at the dome above, which exploded on contact. As he Banished the falling shards, Harry took in the sunlight pouring through the crater.
The surface! The dragons had to get up there, but how?
The Swedish snarled one last time before launching off its haunches and flapping to the ceiling. Harry distinctly heard shrieks above; the dragon was clawing its way onto a Muggle street and igniting all the expected fanfare.
He flinched, almost certain that he could hear the Statute of Secrecy being shot to Hell.
But that aside, why wasn't the other dragon moving?
Harry let out a crossbreed of a growl and a sigh. It's too caught up in its own anger to care about escape. Well, if it needed some encouragement, he was happy to give it!
He lifted up his wand, ready to shout a spell that would send ropes shooting out to bind the dragon. A simple incarcerous didn't have the firepower to contain it. The ropes it produced would easily break. He was certain that this spell would work though.
Now the question was whether Harry would be strong enough to keep his footing. If the dragon tossed its head, would he go flying? He was supposed to be strong, but…
This is a bad idea, his mind insisted. Very bad. Extremely bad! Stick with another spell. There's always another way if you just think hard enough –
"Aggh!" The pain-filled yell trumpeted in the air.
Immediately all thoughts of safety and alternatives fled from Harry's thoughts. "Funis!" A lash of grey streaked out from his wand and tried itself to the dragon's neck. Harry dug his feet into the ground, grabbed onto the rope with two hands, and pulled. Startled cries issued forth when the dragon stumbled forward before regaining its footing, now more furious than ever.
Unfazed by Harry's campeador strength, Ron grabbed onto the rope. Another Death Eater followed after a moment of immobility.
Three people against the weight of a young dragon. In a normal situation, there wouldn't be any doubt who would win.
It seemed that in an abnormal situation, there wasn't any doubt either.
If it had just been a competition between the dragon's neck muscles, Harry would have won. Generally, that's what a lot people and quite a few animals did. Unfortunately, when the dragon thrashed, it put its entire body weight into the motions. Harry was strong, but he couldn't hold down something the weight of an elephant. He had just enough time to register that his feet were sliding across the floor before he was airborne.
"Holy cra-!" Harry was suddenly reunited with the floor. "Agh…" Pain jetted up his arms, the part of him that had connected first. "I'm never doing that again…"
"Harry!" Ron shouted, abandoning all protocol about not using his name. "Watch out!"
A shadow fell over him. Uh oh. He snapped his eyes open and would have yelped if he wasn't too caught up listening to shrieking self-preservation instincts. He had landed less than a foot away from the rampaging, murderous, and entirely too close dragon!
Like I said: holy crap! Without thinking, Harry dove beneath its belly, swearing profusely. He was certain a truck had barreled into him, judging by the sensations his body was experiencing.
The dragon's feet stamped around him as he was still under it. When the dragon whirled to the side and Harry came to regret his decision to hid under its stomach as one of its feet grazed his head as it moved. "Argh!" The errant foot knocked him to the other side, safe from being trampled, but now exposed to the likelihood of being a mid mass destruction snack.
"Kill you!"
The scaly creature's declaration was all the encouragement Harry needed to do a backwards shoulder roll despite his body's discouragements. The pain was worth it when it allowed him to throw himself to his feet.
He scrambled behind the dragon's tail just as its head spurted towards him. Teeth snapped where his head had just been. Spell time, Harry decided. "Conjuntivitus!"
A miss! Harry jumped back to its other side, only to have the dragon turn and hunt him again. As he was busy trying to stay alive, he had forgotten Ron's order. However, he reminded him.
"Twenty One!" Ron barked and Harry's head snapped over to him. "Get the dragon to the surface."
Harry had too many surprises in the last few minutes to be surprised by another one. Ron was telling him, specifically, to get the dragon out of the Department?
Thus implying, Tom's mildly amused drawl spoke to him, that you possess qualities that deem you specifically suited to the task. Now, what quality do you possess that Weasley could possibly be referring to?
My campeador abilities, Harry thought.
…And your nearness to the dragon.
If he had actually been there, Harry would have glared. Like so many of the things Tom said, his tone conveyed a second message. In this case, he thought Harry was being reckless and far too impulsive.
Which I probably am, given that I'm here in the first place. Harry shook himself. He needed an idea. Something that used either his nearness to the dragon or his strength. He figured Ron wasn't referring to his impressive dodging skills with his comment. Besides spells, was there something he could use? Something in the environment, perhaps?
The rope! He could use that, couldn't he? A wild plan blossomed in his mind that used the two qualities Ron was seemingly pointing out.
It might be crazy, but it just might work. But if I'm going to go with it…where is that damn rope?!
He ducked under its tail and narrowly avoided a blow from its descending wing. They were too close to the wall for him to run properly, and Harry didn't want to try anyway. His mental betting pool on how long he was going to last was looking grim, and he didn't want 'grimmer' to be added to the list of already depressing adjectives describing it.
Alright, let's try and think. Is there any place it can't hit me in this enclosed space?
The suicidal answer came to him: its neck.
Harry had to question the state of his sanity when answers like this came to him.
Oh no, logic started, no you don't!
While he was arguing with himself, the tip of a wing whacked him over the head. A dazed Harry stumbled forward, but saw his opening. Using the wing like a ramp, he kicked off the delicate appendage and belly flopped onto its back. He was never so grateful for gravity as he was then; physics caused him to slide down its arched back to the crook of its neck.
Harry slammed into it with an 'oof'. Instinctively he wrapped his arms around it, thankful that its youth meant that its neck was only about the size of an older sapling and so easier to hold onto. He doled out more thanks, this time to quidditch for making his legs strong enough to hold on and seized the swinging rope in one hand.
"Twenty One!"
"Har – Twenty One, get off!" Teddy was frantic. "You'll get yourself killed!"
Harry didn't need to be a parselmouth to know what the dragon was bellowing at him. He held on for dear life as it swung in a circle, trying to shake him off.
"Get off of there!"
"Reducto! Twenty One-"
"Stay where you are!" Ron interrupted, horror fading into a calm years of experience had forged. That hadn't exactly been what he was thinking when he'd given the order, but what was done was done. He had seen enough of Hadrian's strength when they were still in Hogwarts to know that Harry wouldn't be thrown off. He refused to let concern obstruct the mission objective – the dragons had to make it to the streets. "Grab the rope and yank back! Keep it off balance!" Put it in enough pain to force it to stop fighting.
Hugo, who had run up to his father when the dragon had threw him, cried, "But he might-!" One look was enough to silence him.
Harry was only vaguely aware of the shouts as he gritted his teeth. "Fly to the surface!"
Words and suggestions comparable to invective. And, realized, some of them were from Ron, who hadn't heard his first use of Parseltongue until then.
"Get," he ground out, ignoring that development, "to the surface!" Could it not understand him or did it just not care? Harry tightened his hold on its neck, hoping that if the latter was the case, he would be making it uncomfortable enough to get its attention. Or at least hold it in place long enough for Ron and the Death Eaters to do something about it!
He yanked on the rope and the dragon's bellows were cut off as its neck was yanked backwards. "Listen to me – go through the ceiling! Do it!" The dragon struggled, thrashing even more, but Harry was unmovable. The world flew by as a haze of colors as the dragon attempted to throw him off again by dashing around.
"Release me!"
Without the harsh undercurrent that the angle Harry had put its neck in canceled out, the dragon was far more understandable.
He bargained, "Fly up there and I'll do it." He battled against inertia as it tossed itself around again. Harry's stomach protested, churning uncomfortably. Just when he started pondering whether or not he was becoming nauseous, Harry suddenly found himself buffeted by strokes of wind. The dragon soared into the air, leaping out of the ceiling. Harry tensed for the impact as it landed. Immediately, it slithered the two of them out in the streets.
Harry jammed his eyes shut against the unexpected light, not daring to raise a hand to shield himself from it. He squinted, rapidly realizing that they were in the streets, not the Microsoft building.
The sounds of someone slamming car brakes and skidding to a halt broke into his hearing. All around him is was fender benders galore. Harry increased his grip to a choke hold when his unwanted ride reared up and roared.
Merlin! Harry's eyes widened. Muggles! Muggles were everywhere!
All around him frantic Muggles were either running, screaming, or snapping pictures. The final action in that list caused the blood to drain from his face. The Obliviators could take care of memories, but cameras? Cameras attached to city buildings were possible to get rid of, but if any of these people had evidence of the Wizarding world and ran before the Obliviators could get them…
You have risked the exposure of our world! He could hear Snape's voice from Second Year after the Car Incident.
The other dragon that had escaped before the olive one had its claws entrenched onto the side of a skyscraper. Harry's dragon decided to settle for the ground. It opened its mouth and let out a torrent of flames at the car in front of it.
"Stop it!" Harry cried as the offending vehicle exploded in flames.
"Dismount!"
"Not if you're going to attack everyone in sight! Stop and I'll get off." He didn't know what the next hiss meant, but from the tone, Harry guessed that the dragon thought he was lying. "I'm not lying! I will- agh!" He jammed his arms around it, feeling his muscles strain as they fought against the momentum of the dragon's latest swing.
It was getting more and more violent. Harry, on the other hand, was getting more and more angry. He felt an assault of fear as the dragon knocked someone out of the way and its victim went flying dangerously high in the air. It slapped its neck against one of the cars and Harry hissed in pain when his leg was subsequently bashed against the car door.
"Stop it! Please," he tried. His arms and hands increased their already crushing grip on the dragon's neck.
The shouts and cries became a deafening blur. The world seemed to narrow. Harry couldn't help but let out a yell when something slashed his leg. Wetness he knew to be blood trickled down his leg in crimson streams. The burning lanced up his leg and Harry gritted his teeth, his effort to keep from being thrown off just that much harder.
Another sound of terror. A flash of a camera. Fury seared Harry's veins. "Stop it or you'll regret this," he found himself hissing. Then a young girl screamed as the dragon leapt to snap at her, and Harry felt himself almost choking on rage as he looked into those crying, terrified eyes.
"Don't you hurt her!" A surge of pure, delicious strength hurdled into his arms as he automatically pulled the dragon's neck to the side in an effort to make it miss the kid.
A sickening crack echoed in the air. Abruptly, the dragon fell forward, its attack aborted.
Harry had time to feel a sliver of confusion over his fury before he leapt off the dragon and its tumbled into the streets. He landed like a cat and was instantly standing, wand in his hand and magic thrumming through its phoenix core.
The sudden power he'd felt had almost made him feel invincible and all his fears had evaporated. Adrenaline was causing a part of him to eagerly await the dragon's rising. To deliver the blow to incapacitate it and stop it from terrorizing the people around him, but also…because he dared it to challenge him. Stand up to me, it goaded. Let's see if your power can match mine. Let's see you give me a challenge.
He knew he was grinning. Madly, even, but he was too caught up to care. Why should he hide it? It might be unnerving, but why should he have to hide it to make other people happy–?
Why isn't it moving? The thought brought a slight frown to his brow. Confusion, annoyance, concern: it should be moving. Harry waited. The dragon was completely immobile.
"Is it," he heard someone venture, "dead?"
Dead? As if. Why would it be…oh. No. Harry was immediately sobered. He'd killed the dragon? How? You snapped its neck! You killed it..!
Involuntarily, he stepped back, breath coming shorter, more like gasps. Oh, he knew he had just protected the Muggles by doing it. Be knew that if the dragon died it solved a lot of likely unsolvable problems – the dragon hardly seemed like it was going to calm down – but he hadn't even meant to do it. It had just…happened. It had been out of his control.
"Manslaughter," he whispered faintly to himself, though that wasn't entirely right. The dragon wasn't a man, after all. But Harry was a parselmouth. He had heard it speak. It wasn't just a mindless beast to him. He knew it was sentient…and that made killing it feel like killing a human being. A belligerent human being, but nevertheless, a human being. By accident.
If I can do that on accident, it dawned on him, how am I supposed to make sure I don't have the same accident some other time? But next time, it could be worse. What if –
"Harry!" It was Ron. Harry turned and the Doberman animagus let out a breath of relief. Thank all that is holy and sacred, he thought as he jogged up to the boy, that he was Felix Felicis running through his veins instead of blood.
"R-Ron," Harry started. "The Muggles…" They saw everything. Sweeping his eyes around, he could see them snapping pictures, pointing, and whispering. At this point, not as many as he would have liked were fleeing. Instead, they were crowding around to get a better view. The two dragons was completely destroyed the surrounding area; cars were wrecked, buildings were smashed, the occasional object was charbroiled, and more.
How was he supposed to get rid of the evidence? He jerked when he heard someone take a picture of him, of all people. Please tell me that the Obliviators are going to get here soon.
Should he perform more magic by Banishing the damaged cars?
Ron grabbed his arm. "We have to leave. Now."
"But-"
"Let the Muggles flounder about," he instructed him. "Like attracts like; the fools from the Ministry will meet the fools here and be done with it. They're not worth the time it would take to calm them." Harry was too stunned by the scathing, scorn-filled remark to do anything but stare. Because of that, he noticed the calculation in Ron's eyes as he very deliberately shot a barrage of fire at the dragon, causing it to erupt into a ball of flame.
More screams. A twisted grin wormed itself onto Ron's mouth. Running about like headless chickens, he sneered to himself. It was times like this when their side's belief that Muggles needed to be carefully controlled and selectively allowed to breed was solidified. It was like pruning a tree.
His work was done. The mission was a complete success, in large part thanks to Harry. He glanced at him. The boy was paler than usual. Well, at least he would be happy that he won his decorations. He certainly would be earning one for this, though that was fifty percent of the logic of putting him in the lowly Lambda Squad in the first place: standing out would be that much easier. That way, no one could mutter about favoritism when Harry ascended the ranks. Plus, earning decorations and the rewards that came with it would endear him to them somewhat.
He surveyed the place on last time before drawing Harry away. The brilliant technology Muggles possessed would deliver the fatal blow that they needed towards the Ministry. With this blatant violation of the Statute of Secrecy, confidence in the Ministry's competence would reach an all time low. The Wizarding world would rally for change. Not to mention the international repercussions…
"Ron," Harry asked quietly, "will that spell…be enough?"
No. The dragon will barely be damaged because of its hide. The firemen will put it out and have proof of today's events. "It will burn the dragon to ashes. Don't worry." He pulled out his necklace, the portkey back to headquarters. Most of the Death Eaters had apparated onto the road when he had. "Let's go." He pointed to the portkey to herald to the rest of them that the battle was over and it was time to return.
A prickle from his scar told him that Hadrian was feeling particularly pleased. Tom restrained himself from rubbing it and tightened his hold on the letter in his hands. It was from Dumbledore, short, and told him to come to his office. Apparently Rufus Scrimgeour, the Minister of Magic, wanted to speak to them both. Given the fact that his scar was bleating against his occulumency shields with positive emotions, Tom surmised that the results of the attack the horcrux had been taunting them about were successful.
He wondered about that, actually. His occulumency shields were particularly strong; why was it that the connection was still so strong? Any other mental connection should have been blocked. Once again, he speculated on the nature of the scar and his connection to the Dark Lord.
Another prickle. Tom paused. The Minister can wait a few more minutes, he decided and opened the nearest classroom door. Luckily, since it was dusk, there weren't any students inside. He sat in one of the chairs and braced his arms on the desk and slowly let down his mental shields.
Immediately he was jerked from the classroom into a warmly painted room. He smiled broadly, gaze passing over the twenty seven people bowed at the waist at his entrance. The messy-haired Death Eater in front of him glanced around, noting the postures of his companions, and lowered his eyes.
At a gesture of his hand, the Death Eaters straightened. The boy, hearing the rustling, met his gaze. I'd forgotten how green our eyes were, he mused to himself. "Lambda Twenty One. I have been told that you have performed exceptionally today. Congratulations." The people around him, sans himself, clapped, and he quirked an eyebrow as the boy he knew to be Harry ducked his head slightly before summoning back an indifferent stance.
It was one of the differences between the two of them. James Potter had been a pureblood and, as such, he had been raised in a family familiar with politics. Before Lily and James' death, Hadrian had been taught the importance of appearing in complete control of oneself in quasi-formal appearances. He had learned to get over shyness and become comfortable with attention.
He raised a hand and the noise subsided. "You are permitted to choose a level three reward for your actions." Elaborating for Harry's sake, he added, "You can choose to take responsibility for one of the minor prisoners. Other rewards include the currently unreleased technomagic produces in our arsenal and any reward below three." An overwhelming amount of this Death Eaters chose the second option. His followers mostly made up the lower and middle classes, though since there was such a large divide between upper class and middle, middle class wasn't substantially better.
The technomagic products could be used to improve whatever quality of life they had; they even had a monetary reward option. The revenue their organization earned from technomagic and other businesses meant that they were capable of lavish gifts to those who had earned it. Anyone who chose this option also indebted himself, whether knowingly or subconsciously, to the Death Eaters. It hadn't escaped his notice that the rewarded members were the most loyal.
"And of course," he continued, "your efforts would not be possible without your squad to support you. For this, every other member of Lambda shall be given a level one reward."
Another round of clapping. Ron took the moment to lean over and whisper, "Hadrian, we have to talk about something that happened today. It regards Harry." The Dark Lord didn't allow himself to frown, though he could detect the dark undercurrent in the tone. Something was amiss? His pleasure at Harry's success dimmed somewhat. Yes, the applause seemed dimmer than the usual, even for a newly indicted squad, who were usually more nervous about showing any sort of emotion in front of him than the more seasoned ones.
But nevertheless, Harry had done what few had managed to do: he had singlehandedly captured Yaxley, who was considered one of the top duelists in Britain. By doing that, he had made it even more difficult for him to go back to Dumbledore; the 'Light' side would view him as tainted. He'd also made it possible to implement End Game and given him a fountain of information to collect. Every goal had been completed and, as a bonus, Harry had approached him and asked him to train him with no reluctance whatsoever. Odd. Was it related to what Ron was talking about?
Tom resurrected his occulumency shields. He tugged himself from the Dark Lord's mind until the classroom swam back into view. "He's a Death Eater," he mumbled to himself as he became aware of the fact that he was panting on the desk, sweat braided through his hair. At least I didn't collapse on the floor like I do most of the time.
But back to the main issue: Harry, a Death Eater?
He slapped away immediate conclusion that he had decided to become Hadrian's ally and forced himself to think. Why would Harry become a Death Eater? There were logical reasons aside from belief in Hadrian's cause. Harry was the Boy Who Lived in his world. Tom doubted that he would throw himself into serving his counterpart even if he did profess to be for non-pureblood rights.
Hadrian had been talking about a reward system. He'd mentioned a prisoner as a prize specifically. Perhaps Harry had done it to claim 'responsibility' for one of the prisoners? Lucius, possibly? A sliver of relief came to him at the thought, but he told himself to finish analyzing the rest of the situation before passing judgment.
Harry asked the Dark Lord to train him. Why? Normally he would be horrified and a part of him was. It sounded like Harry was trying to become Hadrian's protégé, his 'Black Knight', if the chess terminology the Inner Circle liked to use was applied.
He couldn't come up with a reason for the time being, but he wasn't willing to condemn Harry for that. Tom knew that Harry largely based his decisions on selflessness. Therefore, it was likely that he had a seemingly selfless reason.
The Minister is waiting. He glanced at the clock and realized he'd been immersed in the vision for five minutes. Not a lot of time normally, but Scrimgeour loathed tardiness, and given the situation, he would be in an even fouler temper if Tom delayed. He quickly stood and made his way to the gargoyle, where he called out, "Licorice wands" and stepped past the stone guardian.
I would be unsurprised, he commented, if the Minister, the former Head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, is here to talk about whatever nefarious scheme the horcrux was referring to. He strode up to the headmaster's door, taking into account that Dumbledore hadn't greeted him like he usually would. He took this as foreshadowing of the assuredly fuming Minister within.
Tom opened the door. "Good afternoon, Minister, headmaster-"
"You're late," Scrimgeour stated curtly.
"I apologize." He located one of the seats and sat down, aware of the fact that the Minister was standing. The leonine man paced.
"Dumbledore, are you aware of what happened just two hours ago?"
"I'm afraid not."
"Really." He halted. "No one told you?" Tom picked up the allusion to the Order and Dumbledore denied it again. It was mostly true; they had known something was going to happen, but not where. By the time they someone had contacted the Ministry and by extension the Order members, it had been too late to do anything but call in the Obliviators.
"Skeeter was there," the Minister grunted. "No doubt she'll have the full, meticulously overblown and documented story out tomorrow. The public will be in an uproar!"
"What exactly happened sir?" Tom decided to intervene.
Scrimgeour eyed him. "The Death Eaters attacked the Lancaster office of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. Several members of the Ministry were visiting because of the two illegally smuggled dragons that were being transported out of the country. They took several captives; random workers, like a lot of their raids. But the general consensus is that the true target was Yaxley."
Tom stiffened. The head of the Auror Office, Thickness, Yaxley…he could see the pattern. The Death Eaters were systematically eliminating high ranking Ministry officials that weren't on their side. It wasn't Hadrian's style to use the Imperius; he preferred much more blatant approaches.
"Yaxley's loss wasn't all that we have to recover from. The two dragons in the Department were released into the Muggle city, no doubt purposefully. The Oblivators could not catch every person who was a witness, and many of the Muggles have physical evidence through their cameras. Already photos are being posted on the Inter..web? Net. Internet."
"Into the Muggle city?" Dumbledore's voice was grave and his eyebrows elevated. "He has never done something this audacious before..."
"He's getting confident, Albus. Too confident – he has something up his sleeves and we need to figure out what it is before he plays it."
Damn Hadrian and his complete disregard for the Statute of Secrecy! Tom ordered himself to unclench his fists and appear somewhat calm about this alarming news. The overwhelming majority of the Muggle population would dismiss the dragons and photos as either a government experiment gone awry, or as a hoax. He wasn't as concerned about that. However, the international ramifications this caused were staggering. "Minister, how are the other Wizarding governments reacting to this?"
"How do you think?" Scrimgeour glared. "It is a catastrophe! Do you know what Article 73 of the International Statute for Wizarding Secrey reads, Mr. Riddle? Do you?"
"Rufus," Dumbledore admonished mildly. "Please. Tom is not at fault."
"But he is the 'Chosen One', isn't he? And another thing, though I'll get to that later. The Statue reads, and I quote, 'Each Wizarding governing body will be responsible for the concealment, care and control of all magical beasts, beings, and spirits dwelling within its territory's borders. Should any such creature cause harm to or draw the notice of the Muggle community, that nation's Wizarding governing body will be subject to discipline by the International Confederation of Wizards'. Do you know what that means?"
"Our Ministry will essentially be punished by whatever means the international community sees fit."
"Exactly! And do you know what they're doing? Albus, you're the Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards – you must have heard what they want to do!"
"There have been no definite plans, Rufus."
"They want to appoint Cedric Diggory as Minister!" Scrimgeour continued, ignoring Dumbledore's words. A vein bulged in his neck as he growled, "Diggory is said to be a Dark sympathizer. Apparently he was an associate of You-Know-Who's before he came into power. His charisma is a danger for us!"
"I am quite certain that Mr. Diggory is not a Death Eater."
"I am too. But I know that his wife is a Muggleborn, and she may sway him into doing-"
"Just because she is a Muggleborn," Tom interrupted, "does not mean that she is a Death Eater." That sort of stereotyping had been the reason that so many pureblood had been prejudiced against 'mudbloods' in the past. Quite a few of the sentiments lasted in the present, though tampered by necessity. Appearing to despite Muggleborns with Hadrian on the loose was not a wise course of action. Inadvertently, a lot of the newer pureblood generation had become more open to the idea of Muggleborn equality.
"Hadrian wants the Ministry afraid and its citizens doubtful of our abilities to work as a credible government," Scrimgeour informed them after he'd finished glaring at Tom for cutting him off. "Less support for us means more support for 'change' – him. Or at least, a Minister that You-Know-Who wants in power. He's always talked about tearing the Ministry apart from its foundation and completely reworking it to his vision of perfection. Pah!" He spun around and scoured Tom's face. "As for you boy – catch!" He tossed a Daily Prophet at him, which Tom caught. Carefully, he turned it to the front page. "It's an advance copy of the issue that will be released tomorrow morning."
Dumbledore peered over his spectacles, observing the way Tom's fingers curled on the paper and that he bit his lip. "Tom?"
For a moment he didn't answer. "The title," he then read clearly, "reads 'Dark Lord's Heir Makes Debut'." Dumbledore stopped breathing. "Skeeter has given a rather fantastical account of the attack in Lancaster, claiming that-"
Scrimgeour butted in, "Not 'claiming'. Knowing! Albus, that dragon may have just been progressing into adolescence, but that Death Eater broke its neck with his bare hands. Hands! He's a bloody campeador – you can't tell me that that is a coincidence!"
Dumbledore wasn't certain how to answer as he drank in the facts. He and Tom exchanged looks. It would only be Harry.
Neither of them was going to reveal this to Scrimgeour, however.
"Wait." The two adult wizards turned their attention to Tom. "It says here that…"
"Ah yes," Scrimgeour smiled grimly. "I see you've gotten to the good bit. Where were you in the last two hours?"
Tom's eyes widened in mingled surprise and outrage. "I am not the one who-"
"Tom was in Hogwarts the entire time," Dumbledore said.
"Are you certain?"
"Minister," Tom seethed, "just because I am a parselmouth and Skeeter claims that this Death Eater is one as well does not mean that I and he are one and the same!" Dumbledore started. Tom quickly passed him a look that said that he would talk to him about Harry's ability to talk to snakes after Scrimgeour left.
The Minister studied him for a while and Tom met his gaze steadily. No doubt he was attempting to discern the truth from his expression since he didn't feel even a strand of legilimency. Eventually he said, "Good. I had to be certain. After all, you match his description apart from that particular trait as well. You understand that, don't you Mr. Riddle?"
"Of course," Tom replied coolly.
"Now, I realize what's done is done, but in light of these events, I think that you have a duty to Wizarding Britain. Your endorsement of the Ministry will do wonders for public support and morale. You could give a statement of course, but it would be even better if you appeared to be actively hunting Dark wizards in response to You-Know-Who's actions. The International Wizarding governments may even settle down and lay off."
"Tom has to attend school."
Scrimgeour retorted, "You and I both know that Mr. Riddle is far from the average student. He has straight O's; he has won several prominent dueling competitions; he's doing independent studies in Defense, Charms, and Transfiguration because he's so far ahead of the Hogwarts and even the auror curriculum. On top of that, he is marked by the prophecy as You-Know-Who's equal. He's a beacon of hope! His grades will hardly suffer if he skips a few classes. What do you say, Mr. Riddle?"
Tom looked at him. "We will have to arrange an appropriate schedule, but I am willing to do some auror work. I agree; it will reassure the public." And if I ever meet Harry, I might be able to get him out of Hadrian's clutches. I have been able to beat any auror that I've dueled with; I would be the most likely person to be able to clear away the Death Eaters around him.
Unless he really did join Hadrian.
I don't believe that, came the firm response.
"Excellent. Then I'll leave you two to your business, shall I? Headmaster, Mr. Riddle," he nodded. "We'll be in touch." He grabbed a handful of Floo powder and threw it into the fireplace. "Ministry of Magic!" Emerald green enveloped him and he disappeared.
Tom turned to Dumbledore. "The Minister is correct. Hadrian is becoming far too confident to not feel as if his plans are coming to a close."
"The close," Dumbledore sighed. "Something will end, whether it be the Ministry of Hadrian and his forces. For now there is little we can do." Reluctantly, Tom nodded. "Now, what is this about Harry being a parselmouth?"
The Slytherin sighed and resigned himself to telling the story.
A/N: Wow, the site had a 'technical glitch' for four entire days (0.o). I actually had the chapter done and was trying to post all weekend, but hey, it's here now, and much longer than I had thought it would be. Anyway, enough of my random comments. Based on the poll and the reviews I've gotten, I've decided on which side Harry is going to join. Even if the side you wanted wasn't the 'winning' one, I'm still going to try and incorporate any suggestions that were made, but a large thank you to everyone who gave me their thoughts or sugggestions!
If you want to review, I leave the following questions you could help me with:
1. Too much action? Where some parts stretched?
2. Did you feel like I had a couple of run-ons?
3. Did I put enough indecision at the part where Harry handed Yaxley over?
4. Any other comments...I actually thought the general writing quality of this chapter was better; hopefully you thought so too (better than the last one, at least 0.o)
5. Was characterization pretty consistent with the way the characters were portrayed previously in this story?
Thanks for reading! Oh, and if anyone's interested, I fiddled around with Photoshop and so my avatar is currently a picture of how I picture Hadrian. Look if you're curious?