Disclaimer: The world of Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
Three rooms branched off before him, and Alexander cautiously opened the doors to them. The first led to a kitchen, where a man was snoozing in the corner, a bottle of alcohol opened in his hand. Alexander cast a Silencing Charm over the man before casting an Organ Rotting Curse, causing the man to wake up instantly. He silently screamed as he died, unable to make a sound thanks to Alexander's spells.
The next room was a barracks of some sort. There were many beds, and some were occupied by sleeping wizards, who were no doubt guards. As much as Alexander wanted to summon more earthen arms, he knew there were too many wizards for him to focus on at once. It would only take one mistake for them to kill him, so he needed to be cautious.
Which was why Alexander carefully began to weave an enchantment over the occupied beds, causing the sheets and blankets to twist like snakes. Amusingly, Alexander had found this enchantment in a book on sex magic, used to bind one's lover to the bed. It was especially useful as it also encouraged the captive to remain sleeping through the motions and to remain tight until dispelled.
While Alexander doubted this was what the inventor of the spell intended when they created it, it suited his purposes fine, as he finished up the last captive. Unfortunately, this wizard slept in the nude and felt a sudden cold draft over his naked body, waking him up instantly. Alexander's silencing spell hit him too late, and the man screamed in horror at his predicament.
His screams woke up the other men who also joined in. Unfortunately, a door at the far end of the room opened up, revealing a rather angry looking man with a Dark Mark tattooed on his arm. His eyes immediately landed on Alexander.
"Kill him, Rookwood!" one of the captives shouted.
Alexander half expected the man, Rookwood, to say something, which was why Alexander was almost too slow to dodge out of the way of a thin, yellow curse. It impacted the wall behind him, causing a small implosion. Alexander retaliated with three quick Piercing Hexes, aimed waist-high, and spread out.
Rookwood viciously slashed his wand, causing a prismatic barrier to spring up around him. It absorbed the hexes easily, before shimmering and allowing Rookwood to return fire. Despite the seriousness of the battle, Alexander found himself reluctantly impressed his foe could cast and maintain a Prism Shield, as it required intense focus to maintain.
Which was why Alexander switched to quick, ridiculous schoolyard spells. The Jelly-Legs-Jinx was spammed quite a few times, causing the Prism Shield to shimmer like a rainbow. It was the downside of the spell; it could handle most spells easily, but if magic kept hitting it, it would not allow the wizard who cast it the chance to cast anything back. Rookwood was trapped behind his own shield.
Alexander was not. He stopped using the rebar wand entirely, allowing it to hover in front of him. He cast as many spells as he could at Rookwood, causing the Prism Shield to flare brilliantly, before banishing the rebar again. It knifed through the air and slammed through the Prism Shield, which only protected against magic.
Rookwood was hit, but not fatally, as the rebar wand only punctured his left arm. He stared at Alexander with a small measure of interest in his eyes. But as Alexander went to go on the offensive, Rookwood jabbed his wand into the air, casting a pink spell that Alexander could now identify as a jinx to block Apparation, before dissolving into black smoke.
The few spells Alexander cast through the smoke did nothing, and it soared past him unbothered. He could almost see a grinning face looking at him from within, but the moment was gone, and the black smoke slipped through the door and away, as fast as a spell.
Alexander swore and angrily slashed his hands. The two beds closest to him collapse inward violently, puncturing both men with wooden shards. Alexander ignored their horrified screams and moved down the room to do the same to the rest of the pleading captives, pocketing their wands as he went along.
His grisly task done, Alexander made his way back into the main room, unable to see Rookwood. He quickly made his way to the last door and threw it open, a curse ready to leap from his hands, but it was unneeded. He had found the Muggleborns.
One of them recognized him. "Is that you, Dantes?" Dean Thomas asked from inside a cage. He was stuffed inside with ten other men.
"Yes, Dean Thomas, right?" Alexander asked quickly, moving to the door. It was protected from tampering magically, and he was loathed to reveal his wandless magic to this many people. "Where are the keys?"
"On the wall, there!" a woman hissed, pointing to the door Alexander just came through. Mentally shaking his head at the stupidity of wizards, Alexander retrieved them and opened Dean Thomas' cage. He handed them off to another prisoner.
"Open everyone else's cage quickly; we need to leave fast. Thomas, are there any other prisoners?"
Dean Thomas shook his head in reply. "No, this is it. Who else is with you?"
"No one," Alexander said, trying to count the shifting crowd. It looked to be about two hundred Muggle-born.
"Bollocks, who else is with you, boy?" an older man said. Alexander gave him a dirty look.
"No one. Does anyone know how many guards were stationed here?" he called out to the room at large.
"Sixteen, I think. But they come and go," an old woman said, causing Alexander to frown. He was pretty sure he only killed fourteen men, and Rookwood escaped. He sighed in frustration.
"Right, we need to leave now before they come back with reinforcements. I have portkeys to safe houses all over London, but I need you to split up into groups of twelve. They can track gatherings of wizards above that."
There was a not insubstantial amount of protest at that, but Alexander was quickly losing his patience with the crowd.
"Enough! More Death Eaters are going to be here if we don't leave now. I am offering you a safe house, one where you can rest and recover before finding your families, and then getting the hell out of this country! If you're waiting for a rescue party, this is it! I am all you've got! Now you can either sit here, in this wretched dungeon, and await the return of your captors, or you can get outside and out from underneath the wards so we can leave!" Alexander roared.
The Muggle-born were silent, shifting awkwardly around in shame. Alexander nearly swore, leaving them all behind, but one young woman, only a few years older than himself, moved forward. "You heard the man. Let's move."
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
They were not attacked as they exited the Mudblood Relocation Camp, but that did not mean things went smoothly. Organizing the mob was a pain and a half, and Alexander nearly resorted to stunning the foolish ones so they could leave. But it was one idiot in particular that made Alexander want to rip his hair out.
He was a young man with haunted eyes. He had no doubt experienced great loss, but that did not excuse his actions. He had somehow managed to get his hands on a wand that Alexander had missed and turned it on his former prison. And of all the spells he could have cast, he cast the worst possible one.
Fiendfyre was not a spell that one could simply point and cast. It required a depth of emotion, a darkness that was beyond most people. Then you needed a great deal of magical control to leash the summoned creation to your will, which would then be tested every moment until the magic was canceled. Alexander would never cast it himself as the costs were simply too high, too dangerous.
The young man with haunted eyes did not have a great deal of magical control, nor a strong will power. But he did have the simmering darkness within that allowed him to bring forth the flames of Hell, and that was regrettably enough. The magic of Fiendfyre turned on its summoner, burning him instantly to ash before roaring in jubilation at its newfound freedom. It immediately set fire to the trees.
"Everyone, leave now!" Alexander ordered. The Muggle-born panicked, activating their portkeys regardless of how many people were with them. Groups of six, ten, and twenty all left in panicked bursts, whirling away from the scene of destruction before them. Soon, only Alexander was left, staring up at the beast he refused ever to summon.
He knew there was nothing he could do to quench it. Now that the summoner was dead, the Fiendfyre would only abate once the magic exhausted itself, which would not be for many hours. It would burn everything in these woods, no doubt, leaving behind nothing but ash and destruction.
But as Alexander watched the flames gorge itself on the Mudblood Relocation Camp, he couldn't help but feel angry at the young man who summoned it. Twice now, the wizards had used prisons to house their Muggle-borns, and twice now, they had been destroyed. Alexander doubted that even the Purebloods would be so foolish as to do it a third time, which meant he would never be able to do this again.
The Dark Lord's forces would take their prisoners to secret locations, known only to a few. To their hidden and protected homes, their garrisons, unassailable to all. Alexander doubted he would be able to save any more Muggle-born in this way, not in so great a number anyway. The war, his war, just became so much more difficult.
With a heavy heart, he turned his back on the flames and apparated to the first safe house. He needed to make sure everyone was safe.
Magic Break Can't Be Seen
AN: Rookwood is what I would like to call an intelligent Pure-blood, or at least I would hope he would be considering he canonically works as an Unspeakable before being arrested. He's smart enough to know when to run away.
The Mudblood Relocation Camp needed to be destroyed somehow. It seemed weird that in canon prisoners were kept in Malfoy Manor, so I figured that meant Azkaban and the Camp were unusable in some manner. I figured two destroyed prisons, within a week of one another, would make Voldemort think it was a stupid idea, forcing his followers to keep prisoners in their own home. It would also mean that fewer prisoners would be taken, resulting in more executions.
Fiendfyre: Cursed flames straight from Hell, with some form of sentience. Alexander's reasonably wary of tinkering with such a destructive force of magic at this point in his life. Controllable or not, he's not suicidal. I do think that they can only last for so long, as otherwise they'd consume the entire planet in a raging inferno eventually. Since that didn't happen, there's some time limit involved.
Non-magical weapons and Magic: Snapping your fingers to create a nuclear explosion two feet in front of you? Like there are absolutely no ways that could ever go wrong, be abused, or kill you instantly? Hard pass, especially since using magic on an atomic scale hasn't be done yet (although who is to say what's to happen in the future). Chemistry has far more potential, but if Alexander wanted to make acid, there are already spells for that. As for flight, there's already a canon way to do that that I think would be much more efficient than basically being a hot air balloon.
Nuclear explosions: As fun as it would be, I'm not going to create a shield/ward that can tank a nuclear explosion. There are much more elegant ways of dealing with physical force after all. Radiation poisoning, on the other hand, is a much more fascinating issue for magic to deal with, and one I'll hopefully be able to explore once canon is done.
Which leads into the final issue: Writing these stories has actually taken up far more time than I initially expected. I'll keep posting Year Seven daily until it's done, but I'll most likely be moving to once weekly for the next installment.
I hope you're all enjoying the story!