The Ghost Prince
Chapter Twelve
When the Sky Falls
The morning was crisp and bright, the warm rays of dawn glinting of the marble countertops. The sizzle of frying bacon filled the kitchen, contesting with the savoury aroma of scrambled eggs and roast tomatoes.
The voices of her husband and daughter bouncing of the walls, Dominique Sparx smiled to herself as she set the table. It was a much more leisurely pace than her usual morning routine, courtesy of the day being a Sunday, and she could not deny that she was quite enjoying a day away from the hustle and bustle that usually accompanied breakfast in the Sparx household.
It had been over a decade since she had left the magical world to marry Richard, and she had not once regretted her decision, not even at her Grandmother's funeral, where most of her nieces and nephews had looked like strangers rather than family to her eye.
Magic made her husband uncomfortable, though she was happy to see that he at least feigned interest in their children's magical education. Whilst Richard was never truly warm with regards to Hogwarts or the world she had come from, she could tell that he was proud of Ephraim's accomplishments, even if he couldn't understand them.
Madelyn with be starting Hogwarts in a year and Dominique hoped that Richard would continue to be as warm as he always had been. She had noticed a definite air of sourness permeating him whenever the topic of his baby girl going to live in a boarding school for most of the year came up.
Shaking herself out of her thoughts, she called, "Breakfast's ready!"
She turned, eyes widening as she caught sight of the morning news on the television, and without another word she hurried to the living room and wandlessly summoned the remote. It wasn't something she was fond of doing, especially since it tended to upset Richard, but something told her that today was an emergency.
"Honey, what's goin –" Richard said, coming into the living room only to be quickly shushed by her as she turned up the volume, scanning the scenes of wreckage that flashed across the screen before her very eyes.
"Early this morning, six aeroplanes were hijacked from Heathrow Airport just after take-off. So far there have been no communications with the hijackers, but it has been confirmed through remote surveillance that all passengers on flight seven-eight-six, five-nine-three, and six-four-nine were killed by the hijackers."
The reporter was still speaking but the words were no longer registering in her mind as she watched the footage of the planes being hijacked that was playing on the corner of the screen, and no doubt the Muggles would dismiss the jets of green light as some form of advanced weaponry, but she knew what she was seeing.
Those were Cultists . . .
"Love, are you –" Richard began, but she held up a hand to silence him, the gears of her mind turning at a mile a minute.
"Richard, I need you to take Maddie and drive to my grandfather's place," she said slowly, and the tone of her voice made it clear that he was not to object, not now. "You know where it is, near Ottery St. Catchpole. Pack only what you need."
"Nicki, what's going on?" he asked, not moving from his place at the door.
"Just go, Rich, and take your gun."
She pushed past him, flicking her wand through the air and summoning changes of clothes, food and suitcases to the kitchen. With a second flick they were packing by themselves. Richard frowned at her but from the corner of her eye she could see that he was taking her seriously.
"Maddie!" she yelled, waiting for her daughter to show up before ushering them both out the door towards their car. She ignored the questions, realising that there was no time, that the game had just changed and that before caring about her family, she needed to care for their safety.
"Where will you be going?" he asked, as he got into the car.
"The Ministry of Magic," she said.
"Nicki, can you please just tell me why?"
"Do you remember the Cataclysm?"
"How could I forget? One minute we were on honeymoon in Cairo, and the next you were flying us out of there on a broomstick when the Sahara dropped below sea level and flooded."
"What's coming next is going be much, much worse, and I need you to make sure our daughter is safe while I try and help stop it," she swallowed, blinking away the tears that stung at her eyes as he nodded, his expression grave, and reversed out the driveway without another word.
"I love you, Dominique," were his last words to her before the car disappeared into the street.
She looked on for a few minutes before Disapparating, because the rules of the game had just been changed. The Cultists had just done what every magical war and Dark Lord since 1692 had failed to do . . .
They had just overturned the Statue of Secrecy.
.o0o.
"I want agents at that airport," James bellowed as he made his way through the cubicles. "I want damage reports on my desk, and I want appointments scheduled with Minister Malfoy, Scorpius Malfoy and Kingsley Shacklebolt in that order. And I need another team at Hogwarts."
"James, we don't have the numbers," spoke up Lucy, falling into step beside him as he entered his office. "There aren't enough field agents left after the last Cultist Assault and the fall of Ghost Division, you know that."
"I'm sorry," he said through gritted teeth, "It's been a long night."
"Is Trys going to be OK?" she asked.
"A piece of the stadium went through his leg when Bellatrix attacked Hogwarts but he's out of critical condition. I nearly lost my boy because of these Cultists, Luce." James sank into his chair and buried his face in his hands. The night before had been all the longer because he was just not used to sitting around and doing nothing, but there was nothing he could do whilst Victoire worked on Trystane at St. Mungos.
The attack on Hogwarts had come out of the blue and the security measures just hadn't held against Bellatrix Lestrange – and the worst thing was that Magical Law Enforcement just didn't have the numbers to prevent further attacks. The force had little over two hundred wizards and witches on it, but the elite fighters: the Aurors and Order Agents . . . there were less than seventy of them in total.
"The others?" Lucy asked, her voice trembling.
"Ryan's pretty shaken up but he'll be OK, Keira as well. Aurora's in a coma, there aren't sure what she did to get rid of Bellatrix, but whatever it is did a number on her as well. Leo . . . he might not make it through the day – Cassie is beside herself. The others have a few broken bones or burns, but they're otherwise alright."
"It's always our family, isn't it?" Lucy sighed.
"Always," he agreed, before taking a deep breath and getting to his feet. "You still young enough for fieldwork?"
Lucy opened her mouth to reply, but was cut short by the crack of Apparition. James looked up, eyes widening as Dominique arrived, tottering somewhat dizzily across the carpet before Lucy steadied her.
"It's been a while since I've had to Apparate anywhere," she said, "I guess I'm getting rusty."
"What brings you here, Dom?" asked James, curiosity and urgency weighing his voice in equal measure, as it truly was astonishing for Dominique to set foot in the magical world unannounced.
"I wasn't sure till I got to the Leaky and then came here," she replied, "But the magical barriers are breaking."
"The hell are you on about?" pressed Lucy.
"Think about it. During the Second War, Lord Voldemort terrorised Muggle cities with giants and werewolves, and yet, even though they had camera footage of it all going down, they still thought it was just bad weather."
"Your point?" James interrupted.
"There's a video of the Cultists taking those aeroplanes on the Muggle news, and you can see the killing curses. The barriers that keep our world hidden from theirs are disappearing. You can see Gringotts from outside the damn Cauldron . . . and not from the Diagon side, but from the middle of a London street."
"Merlin," breathed James, sinking back into his chair. He opened his mouth to speak, but his voice was drowned out by the sounds of thunder in the distance, a steady rumbling roar coming across the cloudless sky.
Something about that thought sounded wrong and when the first screams tore through the air, James whirled in his seat, eyes widening as he saw what was coming.
It was not thunder that rumbled, but rather the engines of aeroplanes descending upon Diagon Alley, like guided missiles. James stared for a whole minute as they steadily grew in size as they came closer, before turning and grabbing both of his cousins.
"Evacuate the building," he roared through the door, and Disapparated, just as the sky itself seemed to fall, and the first plane slammed into the Order Headquarters.
.o0o.
Draco sighed as he sat in the corner of the hospital ward, listening to the Wizarding Wireless and not hearing what was being said at all. He had been at the hospital since yesterday, silently praying for his children and grandchildren, which was something he rarely did.
He was not a religious man, but with so many that he loved near death, he would pray.
Rose occupied the bed nearest the door and although his daughter was no longer in a critical condition, her wounds were still not closing. There was powerful dark magic in those slashes, magic that Hermione and he had never before seen.
Leo was in the bed beside Rose, and it was him that Draco feared for the most. His grandson was healing, albeit very slowly, but he was still just clinging to life with a single finger. Aurora wasn't much better in the next bed, her eyes shut and her heart beating, but in a coma so deep that the Healers doubted she'd ever awaken.
If either Leo or Aurora died, Cassiopeia would crumble. Already she was shutting down and becoming the wraith she had been when Albus had just passed away.
"They'll make it," said Hermione, quietly, tapping him on his arm as she settled down beside him. "They're Malfoys – they're fighters."
"I'm just tired of seeing my family pay for my sins, 'Mione," he replied, not looking at her.
She opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out, and instead she just tightened her hold on his arm and rested her head on his shoulder. It didn't take long for him to realise from the dampness of his sleeve that she was crying, and without a word he hooked a comforting arm around her shoulders.
Suddenly he tensed, the jovial tone of the radio presenter being replaced by a much more urgent and serious voice, one that was vaguely familiar to him.
"This is special correspondent Louis Jordan-Weasley reporting to you live from the scene of the worst disaster to have hit the magical world since the Cataclysm of 2027. At eight o' clock this morning, six Muggle aircraft crashed into Diagon Alley, razing most of Wizarding Britain's commercial hub to the ground."
"Draco . . ." murmured Hermione, but he shushed her with a single gesture and turned up the volume.
"Eye-witness reports that the first plane crashed into the Order Headquarters, with others crashing into Gringotts, the Malfoy Holdings Head Offices, whilst the crashpoints of the final three planes are not known.
Words cannot describe the horror that I am witnessing."
There was a long pause before his voice returned, during which Hermione and Draco simply stared at each other. In the blink of an eye, Diagon Alley had been blasted off the map. Something told him that this was just the beginning, that the war that been threatening to break for so very long had finally reached the tipping point and that after years of calm, interspersed by light rainfalls, the storm had broken.
"Amongst many others, Director Potter of the Order, Director Malfoy of Malfoy Holdings and the Outcast Initiative, Goblin Chieftain Gorjunk of Gringotts, Deputy Director Scamander of the Order, Madame Longbottom of the Leaky Cauldron, and Director Pierce of Pierce Technologies are missing and presumed dead. According to Head Auror Kingsley Shacklebolt, who has just arrived on scene, the estimated death count is nearing a thousand."
"Draco," Hermione murmured a second time, getting to her feet and walking towards the nearby window, trembling as she parted the curtains and recoiled.
Draco followed her, apprehensive, and he felt his heart nearly burst in his chest at the sight of London. Half the city burned, whilst the other half panicked, and only then did the sirens begin to sound within the hospital, and the city around it.
"They've just opened the Gates of Hell," he said, as the shrieks of the dying reached their ears, and the sky darkened beneath the wings of a thousand Shadows.
.o0o.
"I want teams of Aurors holding the Atrium," yelled Hugo, hefting a Goblin-Forged sword in one hand and his wand in the other. "Begin evacuations to Hogwarts on the lower floors – but I want those fireplaces sealed if any Shadows make it past the third level."
"Yes sir," said his Senior Undersecretary, one Padma Patil, before dashing off down a flight of stairs and firing off a patronus to the Auror office.
"Send word to Kingsley at Diagon." Hugo turned to another of his inner circle. "I want him to rally every surviving Order Agent and Auror he has with him and form a perimeter around St. Mungo's until the hospital evacuates. Once they're clear, I want him here at the Ministry."
Lorcan nodded before Disapparating, and as the first sounds of battle began to fill the air, before turning to his final companion. Xavier Avery raised an eyebrow and looked at him expectantly.
"I need you to gather the Outcasts, Xav," said Hugo.
"Scorpius –" he said, but Hugo interrupted him. There was no time to argue or mourn. That was something they would have time for when this was all over, hopefully, but for now he needed the others to listen to him without asking questions.
It was the only way for them to have even the smallest of hopes of surviving this war.
"My brother is most likely dead," his voice was cold with resolve, "Cassiopeia is in no state to lead, not with both her children at Death's door, and Rose is out of commission till her wounds heal. Delphin's overseeing the evacuation points throughout the country and Kat . . . you know as well as I do that she hasn't been right since her imprisonment. You're the only founding Outcast left and if we're going to hold the Ministry, we need our army."
"I'm on it," said Xavier with a weary sigh before Dissaparating.
"Isobella," he called to the Auror in charge of the Armoury, "Take three Aurors and guard this place – if we lose the atrium I want you to begin moving these weapons to Hogwarts. Li, Dursley, Boot, Corner, with me."
The run to the Atrium was quick, his blood thrumming with adrenaline. As he took the stairs two at a time, he tore of his tie and jacket, knowing that they would only trip him up whilst fighting.
The Atrium was already devastated when he arrived. The floor was slick with water and blood, the fountain lying in ruins around him, but the Aurors and Law Enforcement Wizards of the MLE were holding as best they could.
But for every Cultist that fell, two more seemed to arrive as reinforcements, and that was not counting the Shadows which darted and weaved their way through the room, leaving trails of blood and gore wherever they ventured.
"Dursley, Boot, Li, take out those fireplaces and set up Anti-Apparition jinxes to stop more of them showing up," he ordered, "Corner, activate the Pulse Cannons." A shower of icy black vapour drenched them, and his eyes quickly fell on the woman who had slain the Shadow. Instantly recognising her as one of the few Ghost Division Agents who had remained loyal to the Ministry after the coup against Blaise, he barked, "Kinzie, cover Corner and then get behind one of those cannons."
"Well well, is the Minister actually getting his hands dirty?" chuckled a Cultist, approaching him as he stood alone, the Aurors having left on their tasks.
Hugo smirked before slashing his wand through the air, conjuring a blade of pure energy to cut open the Cultist from groin to throat, before whirling and felling another with a Bone-Breaker hex. A jet of orange light screamed past his head, raising his hairs and missing him by an inch. Without hesitating, he conjured a tongue of fire and wielding it like a whip, cut his attacker into two burning halves.
A flick of his wand brought the draconic statues on either side of him to life and they swirled around him, their stone bodies cracking and splitting in half a hundred places as the jinxes and curses came flying his way. Directing the gargantuan automatons with his wand, he watched with grim delight as they landed atop a small battalion of Cultists.
Then he was flying through the air as a Shadow appeared out of nowhere, lashing out a palm and clawing at his cheek. He hit the ground hard, spitting out blood and a tooth as he got to his feet, and glared at the Shadow as it advanced.
Like clockwork he spun, his sword passing through it like a hot knife through butter, and it burst into vapour with an ear-splitting screech. Panting, Hugo dodged an Avada Kedavra, before a Confringo struck the ground at his feet and sent him flying.
His head hit the ground with a dull crack, and blurrily he looked around, groping about for his wand or sword as from the corner of his hazy vision he saw a Shadow approach.
He dragged himself back, fingers scrabbling amidst the debris for a weapon, any weapon, as it advanced, red eyes glinting with the thrill of imminent murder.
Finally his fingers closed upon the shaft of a spear, but before he could properly wield it the Shadow had lunged.
Then the Shadow screeched, the tip of a knife appearing through its opaque chest, before bursting into a cloud of icy black vapour.
"About bloody time you showed up," pointed out Hugo, getting to his feet and leaning on the Partisan he had found.
"I was busy," snapped Remy, running a hand through his mousy-brown hair, malice glinting in his amber eyes. In a single fluid motion, he flung his knife, catching a Shadow in the throat and sending it back to oblivion. Before Hugo could react, the young man had drawn his wand and disappeared into the battle.
.o0o.
"I thought you were dead," said Xavier, their three backs pressed together in a triangle as they blasted curses at any Cultists coming through the doors.
"We Malfoys are very hard to kill," replied Scorpius, his face covered in grime and blood as he let fly a particularly powerful blasting curse and brought a section of the wall down over the door he had been guarding.
"Don't jinx yourself," said Kat, her wand moving in a blur as she opened the throats Cultists brave enough to come through her door.
The chamber they had found themselves in was a strange one, deep within the heart of the Department of Mysteries, but the never-ending tide of Cultists and Shadows had forced them into this place. The walls were stone, rough hewn, and it was empty save for a single dais from which rose a tattered archway.
The archway was filled with a strange mist, swirling and opalescent, and it was enough for Scorpius to want to keep a safe distance from the arch. Who knew what the Unspeakables cooked up in this place, after all?
His musings were cut short when a fourth door was torn off its hinges and the Cultists and Shadows stormed in, and within seconds Scorpius was fighting for his life, as were Kat and Xav. The three of them whirled and weaved, using a mixture of dark magic and Goblin-Forged steel to keep the enemy away, when suddenly another door burst open.
His heart sank until he realised that it was allies who had joined them, and then he laughed in sheer relief as the Cultists were forced out from the room, little by little, by Kingsley and his reinforcements.
The Killing Curse came from nowhere.
A twisting, screeching jet of harsh green light, clawing though the air like a wild beast and with a yell, Scorpius ducked, letting it fly through the space his head had just vacated.
He turned his head, a joke on the tip off his tongue, but the laughter turned to ash in his mouth as he saw Xavier stumble. Katherine's screams filled the air and from the corner of his eye he saw Kingsley stare at them as if he were seeing something very familiar occur.
Then the realisation hit him and he focused on nothing else save for Xavier.
The green glow of the curse was still heavy in the air as he fell, as if in slow motion, into the mist between the archway, and just like that, he was gone.
He grabbed Kat from behind, wrapping his arms around her waist to keep her from jumping in after him, even as a part of him screamed to leap through the gossamer mist. The mist was all that stood between him and one of his best friend's, the part of him reasoned, but the rational part of him understood full well what happened to people who fell through the Veil of Death.
"Xavier!" Kat screamed, kicking and scratching at him as she fought to break free of his restraining grasp. "Xavier!" Her voice sounded choked, ripped from her throat by pure grief, every note breaking as she screamed his name, over and over again, not realising what he already had.
Xavier Avery was dead.
.o0o.
Hermione arrived at the Ministry in a storm of flames and thunder, the echo of Apparition still heavy in the air as she swirled her wand around her, hurling tongues of fire and brimstone upon all who stood around her.
Across the Atrium, she watched Draco Apparate into a circle of Cultists. He moved his wand like a sword, drawing it from his cane and slashing it through the air with a speed that denied his age. Blood spurted hot and fast as he made his way to the staircase, no doubt planning on fighting his way down to the lower levels.
Sectumsempra had always been a favourite of her husband's.
The Ministry had fallen, and the younger generations just didn't have the experience to yet realise it. She had come, with her husband, as a last resort to buy the evacuees time and to ensure that the secrets of the Ministry did not fall into Cultist hands.
Fiendfyre burned hot and fast and Draco would release it as soon as he reached the fifth floor before leaving. She would hold the Atrium.
It may be true that she was nearing her eightieth birthday and that she was not as nimble as she once was, and it may have also been true that there were very few Aurors left that were still fighting, but Hermione was the most powerful witch to have ever lived.
She could hold the Atrium by herself, if need be.
"You shouldn't be here, Mum," said Hugo, coming up beside her, leaning on a spear and holding a stranger's wand.
"And let you young one's have all the fun?" she asked with a hint of teasing in her voice, before flicking her wand and releasing a shockwave that levelled half the hall.
A Cultist staggered to his feet and Hermione slashed her wand, but just before he crumpled, the sound of a gunshot filled the air.
"Protego," she said, before her blood ran cold as her mind made the connection.
Her Named Bullet.
"Protego Maxima." She strengthened her shield, taking a step back, and gritting her teeth.
But a named bullet, once fired, could not be undone, not by any magic upon this world or the next.
"No, Mum!"
She screamed as she watched him crumple, blood blossoming like a scarlet rose across his shirt, and he fell, clutching at the wound. He trembled, a trickle of red running down the corner of his lips.
It was her bullet. The bullet had been intended for her, engraved with her maiden initial, H.G. His was H.M – he was not supposed to have been in danger from it.
But he had stepped into its course, and there was no deceiving a Named Bullet, not once its magic had been invoked and its engraving had been made.
Her son had been born out of wedlock, and his birth initials were the same as her own.
Hugo Granger
With a roar like thunder, golden light burst from her wand, hurling the Cultists against the walls, their spines snapping like twigs before her wrath. Even as they fell, leaving bloody smears across the walls, she was running, moving with a speed that defied her snowy hair and crow's feet.
"Hugo," she screamed, dropping to her knees and pressing her fingers to the river of blood soaking into his clothing, pooling around him. "Hugo, please, please, please. You can't die. Please."
"It's OK, Mum," he whispered, his voice growing weaker with every passing second.
"No," she pleaded, droplets of crystal falling streaming down her cheeks.
"I promised . . . promised Fran I'd be home early today," he managed, his teeth stained with flecks of red. "You'll . . . tell . . . tell her . . . that I . . . I tried, right?"
"No!" she shrieked, howling at the heavens, at the world, at hell itself, begging for their mercy, as her youngest son passed away in her arms.