No Time To Spare
The fire was awful. The smell that blanketed the city was so bad that Hermione and Ginny charmed the air around them. Putrid clouds of black smoke wafted over London. They saw soldiers voluntarily donning their CBRN gear without orders, just to try and escape the stench of burning flesh.
Of course, there were those who had smelled this awful thing many times before. Hermione would never forget it, she could never forget it. But it was a part of her life. Her senses had been completely deadened to the experience. Against the noonday sun, she put on her sunglasses. She reached into a pocket, she took out an emergency ration bar; unwrapped it, and started slowly eating. The act settled her stomach, calmed her nerves, and it was a last ditch effort to avoid going over to the Metropolitan Police officer who was chain smoking one cigarette every two minutes with methodical precision as he tried to keep order—and asking him for one. As he tried to calm down from what he had just seen, he was occasionally glancing over toward Hermione and Ginny.
Hermione wanted to go talk to him, but she was too emotionally exhausted by the sudden rush of combat, the horror, the desperation, the use of magical energy, the adrenaline rush of victory, the dull awareness of the deadening of her senses. "Want some, Ginny?"
"No. Thank you." Ginny wasn't quite there yet. She paused, and tried to think of something constructive to say. "Do we just stay here? Hold Diagon Alley 'At All Costs'?"
Behind them, more civilians were being evacuated into it, the first sight that Muggles would have it. Ruined by Voldemort. Well, soiled, anyway. Hermione popped another bit of chocolate-fruit-energy bar into her mouth and watched the guttering flames in the buildings she had just burned down. She didn't want to think about how many people might have died as collateral damage, well aware and having fully accepted it was many, many less than the Inferi had been about to tear apart.
"Absent other orders, yes."
"What about… Everyone else?"
Hermione looked up, met Ginny's eyes, tried to be reassuring. "They'll do what we just did, if they have to, to stay alive." There was smoke rising from plenty of places in the city, they weren't the first group of wizards and they weren't the last, either. Nobody out in London that day was going down without a fight.
Not to that.
Hermione was worried though. She'd have to be insane not to be. But how can Bellatrix get in touch with me?
Well, there was a way for Hermione to get in touch with Bellatrix. "Just to be sure we're not needed elsewhere," Hermione remarked to Ginny, "I'll let them know where we are."
"Okay!"
"Expecto Patronus." This, Bellatrix could not do. This, the legacy of her time as a Death Eater, for no Death Eater could cast this spell. Hermione conjured forth, strong and vivid and bright, her Otter—her mind firmly focused on her and Bellatrix, together, in the baths of Ancient House. She had plenty of happy memories with which to call it forth, even if they had all changed with time in this terrible war.
The Otter pranced, and the effect on muggles was spectacular. People perked up. There were voices of encouragement to each other, and one group of armed police hastening down a side street a block up let out a cheer before they carried on their way.
"Carry a message to Bellatrix Black!" She sent her Patronus on the way, to speak with her voice, to say: 'Bellatrix, we're guarding the entrance to Diagon Alley. We defeated the Inferi coming this way. Is there anything else you want us to do?'
Then she waited, pacing with Ginny, her eyes on stalks, looking for any side of the Inferi returning. There was none, and instead she saw, to her relief, a column of BTRs coming up the street. They swung to a stop, and the dismount troops included two MinKol wizards, and six teams with RPO 'Rys' or Lynx rocket-propelled flamethrowers. Good, good…
That made their ability to hold their position at all costs – much more plausible.
"Councillor Granger?" One of the wizards jogged up, and saluted. "Junior Councillor Sergei Dorokhin, Councillor. We were diverted to hold this position."
"Let me help you lay out your defences, and I'll show you where the entrance to Diagon Alley—the hidden wizarding community—is," Hermione explained, quickly going through it. She barely got to the end, when her Otter returned with a Raven swooping overhead.
For a moment, she nearly had a heart attack, stunned at the idea that with no training, after almost her entire adult life as a Death Eater, had just cast a Patronus.
"Hermione, it's Andromeda," the Raven said, perching on a bar-stool.
Oh. Hermione then realised that she had never seen Andromeda's Patronus before—she had never really been around the Order, in those situations where one might need a Patronus. She had helped the Order. She had been accounted a member, but she hadn't fought. And yet, since their flight from Britain, well, she remembered the very confident and very skilled Andromeda Black Tonks who had stood on the dock in the Netherlands, and helped save them all, and then…
London. Here we are. "Is everyone…"
"Yes, we're fine," Andromeda answered. "But we need you, quickly. We need your help. We believe Voldemort's power is influencing London through an enchanted artefact, and we want your advice. If we don't destroy it soon, we'll lose the city."
Oh. Another one of those hunts. But in minutes, not days. Hermione's gut clenched. But she nodded. "Of course, Andromeda. A detachment just arrived to cover Diagon…"
"Yes, we sent them."
"Then we'll apparate straight away. How will I find you?"
"One Canada Place, you know?"
If you can't apparate to the largest Skyscraper in the United Kingdom, you're a pretty hopeless muggleborn, Hermione thought to herself with a grin, and despite the anxiety, nodded again. "Going now!" The Patroni faded away. "Councillor Dorokhin, I think I've covered enough."
"I saw, you don't need to explain, just go," he answered.
They exchanged a salute and Hermione dashed off to find Ginny. They were going to do this now, or there would be no reason to do it at all. London would be gone to save the people within her if they did not act now. Do in minutes what you used to do in days.
Bellatrix watched a platoon of her British soldiers coming up smartly, having crossed the Thames by boat to the pier at Westferry circus. They were lugging along four L7A2 machine guns that they quickly set up on the flank of the defensive position, and began fitting the continuous belts. Their arrival was into the teeth of the surging mass of Inferi, but the moment they arrived and settled in, they opened up with the four machine-guns on full automatic, even as part of that mass of the undead, under the nefarious power that animated them, turned toward the living.
The belts were mixed incendiary and tracer and for a moment that sea of the dead simply stopped as the four machine-guns tore into them at rapid fire, the loaders linking belt after belt—firing at a rate to where they would quickly overheat the guns. There were pails of water for that. The riflemen in the platoon had under-rifle grenade launchers, and these they began firing, with white phosphorous marking grenades.
Spinning, Bellatrix spared a moment to help them. Another Bombarda Maxima Incendiarus leapt from her wand, mingling the motions and weaving the complex incantations together. It was just as good as a fuel air bomb, or better. A concussive blast followed by a flash of fire all around, after a moment's pause. A block's worth of the dead vanished in flames from the streets, around buildings already burning.
Her sisters were just as busy. She had barely noticed Andromeda peel off to send away her Patronus, and promptly the middle Black Sister was back into the fray. This was a master-class in Defence. Though she was not as experienced as Bellatrix or even Narcissa, Andromeda might just be the most talented of the three. Even Bella had to admit it.
She chose her targets and executed her attacks with a careful economy of force, maximising the damage to the Inferi and minimising the damage to the surrounding environment. Bella was too busy with her own attacks to even pay half as much attention to this as she had wanted to, but there they were, fighting together, and Andy was an amazing sight for anyone who had the slightest chance to actually take the time and watch her.
And then a sharp series of flame attacks and carefully projected shields to contain the Inferi and drive them back into the fire neatly boxed the targets in front of her, and Bella finished them in a moment. Andy took advantage of the sudden lapse in the pressure against their position, and through the chattering of the guns, the booming of mortars and shells and the scream of rockets—the flash of their spells all around—she turned and pocketed a huge number of them in two intersecting lines of living fire, never once losing control of it to consume nearby buildings, even as any other Witch might have lost control of the Fiendfyre.
Hermione and Ginny. They have come.
The sounds of battle faded. The Inferi advancing on Canary Wharf had essentially been completely extirpated. It was a moment of perfect relief for all involved, save perhaps the Black Sisters and the witches they had summoned, who all knew that it was not over by a longshot. But, to the troops there, they had defeated the hideous attack. It might come again, but that time was later, it wasn't now. They would live long enough for another cigarette, a cup of tea, a ration amidst the stench if they had the stomach for it—maybe they would still be dead in an hour, but for the moment, they were there, they had won that time, there were simple pleasures and comrades close by. It might as well be heaven, the particular kind of heaven you know when you live in Hell.
Wafting smoke and the stench of burnt flesh. All the witches and the muggles too had seen Andy's performance. So had most of the wizards and witches from MinKol positioned there, the new Black Guard corps as well. They didn't hold it against her when she staggered down to her knees and threw up, profusely.
Bellatrix stepped to her sister's side, and embraced her, rather than Hermione. She could tell, from the corner of her eye, that Hermione had no problem with it. "It's not easy. Not this awful, miserable stench. Gods, Andy, you would have been such an asset to the Order. You're a better duellist than I. I saw the sparks when we were young, but you kept at it. But you never fought."
"I never fought because of you and Narcissa, Bella," she answered, between heaves that still wracked her body, looking out over the oily smoke and black soot of a battlefield where they had faced the dead. Her small body heaved with laughter, then, too, some paroxysm of so many complicated feelings, emotions and compulsions all at once. "Damnit, Bella, don't you see what you did? I couldn't fight. I couldn't show this to anyone. How could I fight for the light when it meant fighting against you and Cissy? That I might literally face you on the other end of my wand, someday? Don't you see? I couldn't fathom that. Everyone accepted the notion that I was a weak house-witch, that I supported the Order in other ways, from home. But I made that choice, because while I believed in the light and I married Ted—fuck, Bella, I'd rather be thought weak than face my own flesh and blood in battle."
Bellatrix started crying. Even Narcissa, trying to look utterly composed, rigidly calm for the sake of the troops, turned quickly away to speak with Hermione. She heard snippets.
"We must find the means of Voldemort's control over the dead. Soon. Or the city is lost."
"I understand, Your Grace," Hermione answered, like a shield of rigid formality.
Bellatrix helped Andy to her feet. "Come on, sister-mine," she murmured, wiping her own eyes. "The best of us."
"I don't want to play that game. No best. I'm just so thankful we're all together," she replied, letting Bella lead up to the others.
"So," Hermione was speaking, "We need someone who can give us some idea of where to start." A grimace. "As much as I hate to admit it, Your Grace, perhaps it was a mistake to execute the attaindered prisoners so soon. We need intelligence."
"It can be quite hard to get intelligence out of prisoners, especially Death Eaters," Narcissa answered coolly. "However, you are right. We need something—anything. Fortunately, there might be one prisoner, still very much alive, who can help us."
"Oh?" Hermione asked, and Bellatrix took the chance to step closer to her, brush her hand across Hermione's shoulder, smile at her.
Hermione smiled back, a flash of a smile out of the corner of her eye, while staying focused on Narcissa. It was good enough, it would have to be good enough for the circumstances.
"Yes," Narcissa nodded. "We'll need to make haste for the Ministry holding cells, then. The classmate of Draco and your's…. Theodore Nott. He was captured when we took the Isle of Portland. But I have hesitated in attaindering him, because of his father's appeal. I felt it had some truth in it, that he was more at fault."
And perhaps you can't quite bring yourself to start chopping off the heads of your little Dragon's classmates? Bellatrix mused, watching the interplay between the two, watching Hermione's expression harden for a moment, and then soften.
"He didn't join Voldemort's forces at the Battle of Hogwarts. And he was never as cruel to Harry as the others. Perhaps there is something that can be saved in him, if he realises how awful this current situation is, and how entirely it is Voldemort's responsibility, and design, to bring the living dead against the city," Hermione acknowledged in a speech that showed her own smooth maturity. Even in the forces, even in this rough life, a bit of the air of a politician was still around Hermione. She was a very well-matched pair with Narcissa.
Hah, you fell in love with a woman a little bit like your sister. Pervert, Bella mocked herself idly.
"Then it's settled. We'll go to the holding cells at the Ministry, first."
"Oh lovely place."
Narcissa shot her sister an unamused look. "Best not to mention you've been in them, Bella. Let's go."
They all raised their wands together, the better to avoid any effects of sidealong. Bellatrix had already transferred operational command of the troops at Canary Wharf when she had moved to fight personally, too important, too needed with her wand to stay near the headquarters post. Now there was nothing stopping them.
"Diagon Alley first, then the floo to the Ministry, to get past the shields!" And with that, a snap brought them to the ruins of the street where only minutes before, Hermione and Ginny had defended their own position.
No new number of Inferi had arrived subsequently, not enough time had passed or there were no more approaching in the area, and they passed quickly through to Diagon, and found their way to a working Floo. Fortunately, most of the children and civilians, muggles and wizards alike in the immediate vicinity of the entrance to the magical pocket-space, had already been evacuated and they could move quickly on into the massive arrival hall of the Ministry, too well warded to come under immediate attack.
From Inferi.
The dead people in the entry hall had not been killed by Inferi. Bellatrix snapped a shield up when she saw the bodies on the floor, without even really thinking. It was sufficient to cover the first spells that went their way, and then she was dashing forward, taking cover behind a potted plant and lancing a sectumsempra right back. Narcissa fell in at her side. Hermione and Andy had gone right with Ginny, and they pushed on forward from the bank of fireplaces deeper into the ministry.
"Fuck it," Bellatrix shrieked out, and hurtled a Bombarda next, taking down a part of a balcony with a rewarding scream. "He must have ordered a counterattack by the wizarding forces in the Isle of Wight, maybe even reinforced them."
"I'd heard from a report before we got drawn into the front-line fighting that they were counterattacking across the Solent, they'd pushed back the sea with magic," Narcissa answered, her own wand flicking quickly with another spell. "But I'd taken it for a diversion."
"It probably still is, but to cover infiltrating these fucks back into London. Well, come on, Cissy, we won't keep your Kingdom if we don't lay 'em about." She caught Andy's attention, flashed a wink her way, and then lunged forward again.
Her middle sister and Cissy covered her smartly, and then Hermione and Ginny were up at her side, as they used lightening spells to leap up to a higher level of the Atrium. A flurry of wand-work quickly had the two men they were facing, in the uniforms of Morsmordre Aurors, pushed on their back-heel.
And then Bellatrix smirkingly lined one up, about to take him with an Avada Kedavra when she remembered the lament about being unable to interrogate prisoners. There's always an alternative to interrogations. She nailed him—in the middle of combat no less—with the Imperious curse, instead. And her first command was simple, a pointed gesture, and a half-shriek of "kill him!"
Hermione, even having just watched Bellatrix force a man under the Imperious Curse to kill his comrade, showed no expression, and Bella realised just how much the fight with the undead must have driven home how dire the situation was for her. She'd almost gotten used to the back and forth of their debates over morality and ethics in war over the past year and a half, and now … Now, a cool, collected Hermione thought nothing of it as they pressed together, and then all together, the five witches met four racing Morsmordre Aurors who were responding to the breach of the perimeter, the annihilation of their rear-guard.
Andy shielded the rest, taking the spells of four Aurors at once while leaving the others free to attack. It took only a minute as they split into two groups, Cissy and Bella to the left and Hermione and Ginny to the right, and blasted through the opposition. They might have held on for a few minutes more, but there was a shout from behind them. British Aurors, Narcissa's new loyalists to the government. The Morsmordre, then, had not captured the Ministry, not yet, and caught in a pincer, they made short work of the men they were facing.
Narcissa wasted no time at all. "Have they reached the holding cells?" She asked sharply.
"No, Your Grace." One of the Aurors saluted with his wand quickly and turned to the side. "Do you think that's where they're headed?"
"Actually no, I don't have a clue about that, but if they're not there yet, they probably weren't aiming to rescue prisoners, which means wherever they are at the moment may be more important to them."
Bellatrix wondered if perhaps even the raising of the Inferi was a diversion, if Voldemort was trying to get something back that had been stored in the Ministry. Probably not, per se, but he would happily use the attack by the Inferi as both, to punish London for defying him, and to cover something else. The other possibility was that whatever gave him his power over the City was actually in the Ministry Building and the Wizards were here to protect it, but Bellatrix thought that would be a very sloppy possibility if true, for it would just unnecessarily draw attention to its location.
Hermione seemed to think much the same: "Your Grace, he has a high value target here. Maybe we should split up."
Bellatrix grimaced. "I had a bad feeling about the three of us parting for today, Hermione. Those bad feelings aren't the kind of thing that you should ignore."
Hermione smiled tightly to her. "Then Ginny and I will go with the Aurors, join in the counterattack. The three of you can try to talk some sense into Nott the Younger. No bad feeling about that, is there?"
"Just the one about being apart from you," Bellatrix heard herself say, nevermind the embarrassment or being so blatantly open about their relationship in front of the team of British Aurors.
But Hermione didn't seem to care. She just smiled. "The sooner it's done with, the sooner we're back together. And if you need to find me, use the scar."
Bellatrix stared, refusing to believe the permission she had just been given. Then Andy tugged on her shoulder.
"Come on, Bella. We've got to go, we can't waste a second."
"I love you, Hermione."
"And that's why I just gave you permission, Bella," she answered, and spun away with Ginny, boots falling on the marble floors, moving fast and moving hard, wand out and ready and keen, uniformed, armed, falling in with the team, assuming a natural leadership position as a Colonel.
Bellatrix spared one last glance, and took off at a dead run with her sisters, down toward the holding cells, where twenty years before, she had made love to Alecto Carrow, and waited for the Hell of Azkaban.
Somehow, it didn't darken her anymore. Hermione was waiting, if they could just stop the Lord she'd put herself in Hell for. It was time for some revenge.