Embers of Ruin - The Potter Chronicles
He held up his hand, the signal for his team to stop. From further up ahead the dark tunnel, the sounds of leather boots pacing slowly against the stone floor echoed towards them. Harry permitted himself a grim smile. They still had the element of surprise. Good.
His strike team had entered the basement of the old brewery via the wastage tunnels. It had not been pleasant work, but it had been the quietest route in without Apprating. They had put Muffling Charms on their shoes to reduce the sounds of their movements. On the downside, he would need a few Cleaning Charms and a shower or two to rid himself of the smell of sewage, Daphne would not come near him for a week otherwise.
He and his small team of Aurors pressed themselves to the wall near the special teams that the joint task force had selected were a mixture of nationalities. His team consisted of his partner George, Annabelle and her partner Gabriel for French representation, and finally Stefan from the German Auror office. At first, this was received poorly by each nation's respective Aurors. They each had trained for years beside their partners and trusted them implicitly, suddenly being thrust into working with strangers with different training and protocols didn't sit well with them. Yet, professionalism and a mutual hatred of their target helped put any differences positively brutal training drills the joint heads had put together had helped that development along and united them in mutual exhaustion.
Now was the test, however. Today would show if their hard work was enough.
The break-through had come yesterday. The French Auror Department at last had captured and persuaded a member of the terror group that was behind the attack on the French Ministry of Magic and who had not been slaughtered in the Paris attacks begging to give information. At least that was the official statement. The French were not clear on how they had gained the information. Harry made a face. Ever since the attack, the French Ministry of Magic was dead set to punish those responsible, and they weren't squeamish about that. It did not take much to imagine what methods they had used.
The captive wouldn't give up the name of the group, however, he revealed they were due to hold a gathering here this evening. Several high-profile members would be in attendance. The situation was perfect for cutting the head from the snake, the joint heads of the International Auror Force decided. They had the advantage of surprise, their attack was supposed to be quick and dirty, with little risk of losing one of their own.
In theory, the plan was well thought out. Put to action, quite a few things could go wrong and turn this mission into hell in a handbasket.
Harry's thighs shook with nervous energy. Would a group of rogue Muggleborn not factor in entering via the drains? Then again, violent thugs were never ones for brains. Even Muggle terror groups made glaring errors that special operatives would exploit.
He turned to his team. They all had their wands at the ready. He nodded. Their briefing had been clear, all verbal communications were to stop as soon as they entered the brewery, and all spells were cleared, up to and including Unforgivables. In addition to that, Harry had pressed home the point that they'd better avoid the Imperius Curse and the Torture Curse. It was better to kill a foe than give them a chance to recover.
The thought lingered at the back of his mind. There was a real possibility he may need to kill today, an action he had not done since Riddle. Harry gripped his wand tighter. Better them than him, or worse, his friends and family. That was the lesson he'd learned from Paris. If he had to kill, so mote it be.
He inched around the corner and climbed the stairs. They were broad enough to fit two of him side by side if required, yet he kept close to the wall and in the shadow not to make himself an easy target. The charm on his shoes prevented his footfall sound carrying.
With each step the muffled voices grew clearer. Harry stopped, held up a hand, and listened.
The group seemed to feel safe in the abandoned building. Nobody made an effort to lower their voices. Scraps of conversations in French, Spanish, English and Scottish reached their ears. Harry gritted his teeth. His own countrymen were contributing to this madness!
The nervous energy built up further, he couldn't wait to get his hands at those bastards. He gave the sign to move on. Ahead of them, the stairway mounded into a corridor. There was no door between the stairway and corridor, and he halted and listened.
Footsteps to the left, walking towards their hiding spot.
He motioned with his free hand for everyone to press to the wall.
The steps drew closer, shuffling at a slow pace, unaware of their unidentified person hummed a low, unfamiliar tune. The tune drew closer, and he pressed himself to the wall. Going by the noise, there was only one of them. However, you never knew if they had company who had masked their steps with Silencing Charms. Would the wall hide him long enough to spring an ambush?
He raised a finger to George beside him and closed his fist. That was the agreed up sign for no wands. George was experienced enough to know that the use of wands right now would cause a light show that would draw attention, so Harry didn't even bother to turn and see if George acknowledged his order and passed it along. .
The footfalls where mere inches away now, the smell of a cheap aftershave mixed with sweat reached his nostrils. He made a face, his heart hammered in his chest, and he tensed, ready for the attack.
A man, just shy of six foot, shambled into view, not so much as glancing down the stair way. His clothing plain and hair unkempt, he looked like a muggle, if not for the wand casually dangling from his fingers.
Harry waited until he was sure no one else was with him, then he leapt behind the back of his target, his left arm held out in a wandless Silencing Charm. The charm had not yet impacted fully as he already drove his foot in the back of the knee of the terrorist. His target staggered to the floor, however, before his body impacted the ground, Harry brought his arm around the wizard's neck and dragged him back to the stairway, pulling him upwards and squeezing his airway, like he had practised so many times with George.
The wizard flailed, trying to grasp at him, and his mouth opened wide in a cry for help. The tendons on his neck stood out, betraying his effort to alert his comrades. Yet no sound left his lips, the Silencing Charm held firm. The only audible sound was the shuffling of the man's feet on the ground. George took care of that with a short slash of his wand.
Within seconds the man's body rag-dolled, out cold.
Silence.
Harry stepped back from his target, wiped his forehead with the back of his arm, and looked to George. His partner had a wry smile on his face and listened onto the corridor. Harry followed suit. Once he was sure the little skirmish hadn't alerted possible wards, he looked back to his team.
"Handcuffs," he whispered and held out his hand.
Gabriel frowned and opened his mouth. A sharp look from Harry made him reconsider.
Harry forced himself not to roll his eyes. While he understood the burning hatred of the French Aurors towards any member of the terrorist group, their tendency to kill any member they could lay their hands on didn't help. After all, they needed to keep someone alive for questioning, or they wouldn't get far.
Stefan reached behind him and handed Harry wrist cuffs etched with runes along the anti-magic chains, one of Hermione's crafty inventions during her time as an Unspeakable. In one swift motion Harry fitted the cuffs to the unconscious man. The runes lit up pale blue and faded, the sign that the spell had taken hold. He looked up at the German Auror. "Stefan, put him down by where we came in, gag him as well."
"In Ordnung, Harry." His German counterpart nodded and carried out the order without fuss.
Harry sighed to himself. If only the French Aurors were that cooperative. They tended to question each order, with Annabelle being the exception. He cast a Muffliato Spell around the group and addressed his team in a low voice.
"We got lucky with him; we might not be so lucky the further in we go. We know there are roughly fifteen people here at any one time but with this gathering, we could face more."
"So, we stick to the plan?" George asked.
"Indeed, non-verbal spells. If you must be lethal, do it quick and do not mess around. Am I clear?" he said, his voice firm and his eyes drifting to each Auror. When they all nodded in understanding, he gripped his wand tighter. "Good, I have no intention of having any losses today."
Stefan caught up with them again, and at a sign from Harry, they moved on.
The proceeding service corridors were quiet, save for the murmurings coming from somewhere further in the brewery. How many they numbered was difficult to tell from this distance, yet the five Aurors kept alert and close to the wall as they stalked through the darkness.
Inconsequential thoughts flew through Harry's head, as always when things came to a head. Why did villains always meet in the dark? And why did they meet at abandoned places? Didn't they know that would draw suspicion?
With each step they made, the voices grew louder. The small team reached a double set of iron doors. The door was slightly ajar, the amber light behind it spilling through the crack like liquid gold. Numbers of old pipes ran along the ceiling towards the doors and disappeared behind them. They had to be nearing the main brewery room.
Harry paused.
Someone tapped on his shoulder. He turned to face George, who held a questioning expression.
"What's wrong?"
"It's too easy, could be a trap."
Their voices were barely above the silence. Annabelle nodded in agreement.
"You have any better ideas?" Gabriel whispered.
Harry looked to Stefan, reached into his pocket and pulled out a gold coin, like the ones they had used back in fifth year for the DA meetings. The German looked at him with furrowed eyebrows, his face a mix of confusion and offense. "Us four will circle around to find another door. Once you feel this coin grow warm, open the door, but stay hidden behind it."
"Mate, that's…"
"The second they look to the door we will attack, give it a couple of seconds before you join the fray."
"Alles klar. Uh… I mean, yes, Harry." Stefan nodded, the corners of his lips turned up slightly.
Five minutes after leaving Stefan they took a left-turn some way down the corridor that led to the metal doors. The corridor they were now in was almost pitch-dark, and they edged their way along the left-hand side of the wall in the hopes to find another corridor that would lead them past the room with the metal doors where the meeting took place. Each second that passed Harry's anxiety rose to new levels he had not felt in some time. Each moment he expected spell fire would break out behind him where they had left Stefan. He was not able to dwell on that for long however, a moment later they came across the opening to another hallway to the left that led them back into the direction they had come from. Harry's heart beat fast. Merlin give they'd find another corridor and door to the meeting place.
As if Merlin had heard his plea, a third corridor opened at the left. At its end, a dim light shone.
They renewed the Silencing Charms on their shoes and cast Delusionment Charms on themselves for good measure. Yard by yard they eased closer, towards a door with a circular pane of glass sat towards the upper part of the wood. From behind the door came the soft murmur of voices.
Perfect.
They eased closer. The voices within had dimmed from lively chatter to slight whispers, a sure sign that the meeting was about to begin. Obscured by the darkness in the hallway and his Delusionment Charm, Harry pressed himself flat against the door leaf and turned his head to the side to peek through the dusty windowpane.
Lumos Charms cast by maybe a dozen wands lit the cavernous room bright enough for a headcount. The members of the terrorist group stood with their backs to Harry, lined at least three rows deep at one side of the room that faced the copper vats that once had been used for brewing beer.
Harry's heart stopped.
There had to be fifty people inside! Curse being given a small team to go in! They couldn't risk an attack against such an overwhelming force. Should they pull out or stay and try gathering more information about the group and their plans? The decision was made for him when a figure pulled himself up on one of the old copper vats. The last whispers died, each eye in the room turned towards the figure standing on the copper vat.
Their attention caught elsewhere would prevent him from being discovered. Harry permitted himself a smile of satisfaction.
The lone figure gripped the pipes from the vat that flowed to the ceiling, their face covered by a hooded cloak. Judging by the build of the figure, it had to be a male.
"My friends, I thank you for taking the time to meet with me." A distinctly male voice with an aristocratic French accent filled the main brewery chamber.
Harry concentrated on the speaker, determined to provide a clear memory of each word he said at the debriefing.
"While the execution of our attack on the French ministry was as quick and precise as we had planned, and many of our targets have been executed, it was still a mixed result. Almost two thirds of the anti-pureblood movement have abandoned us for the killing of those children. Rest assured, I have dealt with the raid leader for his… error in judgement."
The gathered group emitted a mixture of chuckles and grunts of annoyance.
"However, we struck down over thirty high ranking families. Those lines who were not wiped out entirely have been reduced to a few surviving members. Publicly they appear enraged, but I assure you, they are fearful, and public sympathy for their safety is… low." The man dropped down from the vat and walked into the crowd.
"As you all know, I am a Pureblood and a Frenchman. Yet it is I who leads this strike against my fellows, and not just here in France. Although my nation is the worst for this abuse of blood status, there are other nations who do this!" His voice grew louder as he moved within the group, all parting for him. "The Italians, Germans, Spanish and the British! The latter allowed a dark lord to rise not just once but twice, and its second failure did not just cost them! How many of you here lost loved ones to the madness of blood bigotry that spilled from across the channel?"
Harry's grip on his wand tightened, his anger at what happened in Paris was right at the forefront of his mind, yet a small part of him could not shake the empathy towards those who suffered due to the Ministry's inaction.
"What is worse, people believed in this tyrant, this monster. People I once called friends! People I fought beside, for whom I risked my life to protect. For what? More power? A power that is bestowed on those of pure blood already. It was not enough for them, they engaged in wanton slaughter, and now those who sat idle cradle their power and still ignore the damage done to others. I say no to this!"
The anger in the man's voice was unmistakable, yet there was an undercurrent Harry didn't miss. There was grief behind the words, that man had lost more than friends. Harry had lost enough close to him to recognise grief when he saw it.
The room erupted with cheers and shouts of approval.
"Every country that stood idle whilst this happened will feel the loss and repression that Half-bloods and Muggleborn have bore for centuries. I will be the tip of the spear that delivers that lesson in pain and blood! Tonight, we descend on Berlin, we hit the ministry at its front door, we send another message that will echo across the continent again!"
Balls to that! Harry withdrew from the door. They had to act now. If they tried to retreat and warn command, then the group of wizards and witches here could be on the ministry minutes before they could send word. They had to incapacitate as many of that group as possible. How? This was madness, a suicide mission, if he'd ever seen one. A backward glance through the window up at the brewery ceiling gave him the idea of a hasty plan that might let them get out of here with little to no losses. He motioned his team to gather next to him and pointed at the fragile ceiling and pipes.
"Rip it down," he whispered, reaching for the coin in his pocket, and giving Stefan the signal.
The door Stefan hid behind opened, the rusted hinges creaked loudly in protest. The cheering and chatter in the brewery room stopped as suddenly as if someone had cast a Silencing Spell on the room. All heads turned to look towards the door.
Now or never!
Harry shot a Percussive Charm through the cracked window. The old and brittle glass shattered as the shockwave rippled through into the brewery. All present in the main chamber jumped and reached for their heads as the shockwave reached their eardrums. His team did not wait to watch the result, the four Aurors burst through the door. Gabriel killed two of the closest foes with a powerful Cutting Curse to give the rest of the team room to act, while Annabelle, George and Harry raised their wands to the ceiling and cast strong Blasting Charms.
The shocked wizards and witches within the chamber had no time to recover, a deafening boom emitted from the Aurors' wands, followed by the cracking of cement, and screeching of sheet metal.
Part of the ceiling fell in, crushing about thirty or so under its weight. Cries of pain and alarm and confusion rang out in the room.
Harry and his team, still under Delusionment Charms, kept close to the wall not to be hit from the debris that still rained from the ceiling, their wands trained on the confused terrorists and ready to strike down anyone who tried to leave the room.
Some of the group recovered quicker than Harry had counted on. The familiar hissing of offensive spells rushed by his ears. He ducked under a sickly purple flash that slammed into the wall behind him, sizzling with heat, and emitted a smell of acid. While the spell hit none of his team, the power behind it was enough to cancel the Delusionment Charms on them. Damn it! Harry replied with a Piercing Hex to the attacker's kneecap. The joint crumpled, and the wizard screamed. Harry shattered his target's wand hand. The screaming stopped, the wizard slumped over, passing out from pain. Stefan ran through his doorway, downing three attackers from behind with Bludgeoning Spells to the skull. Harry doubted they would recover from that assault.
He sought out his next target, preferably the ringleader of this little group. It was difficult to make out who was who within the group.
George banished an attacking witch and sent her crashing against one of the vat pipes. Her neck snapped and she fell to the ground, a limp bundle.
Annabelle whipped her wand over her head, summoning nine long threads of flaming rope, and whipped it across her body. The flaming ropes lashed out and obliterated the shields of three wizards. They turned to run. In vain, another set of flaming ropes followed before they had fully turned around and burned them to a crisp.
A wizard jumped at Harry, his wand splintered and held downwards like a knife. Harry caught the movement from the corner of his eye. In a reflexive move, he whipped his wand up. A flash of orange light emitted from his wand and hit his would-be attacker in the chest. The man gave a short cry and collapsed at Harry's feet, dead. He spared the body not so much as a glance. He'd come to the decision to kill if necessary when he had cried in front of his daughter's door the night after the attack in Paris. He had no regrets. The curse he had used was a spell he had discovered in the Black library. It caused the target's heart to explode and granted an almost painless death. The discovery of such a comparatively merciful way to kill had been a surprise , given the Black's family , it suited him far better than the Killing Curse would.
He struck down another foe who was lining up to attack Annabelle when a sudden movement between the vats caught his attention. A solitary individual made their way quietly away from the chaos, fleeing under cover of his dying followers. Assessing the battle before him quickly he noted his team were mopping up efficiently, George and Stefan worked in tandem together whilst Annabelle and Gabriel stood side by side to cover one another.
"George!"
The man in question looked up after felling the wizard he duelled with, meeting Harry's eye with a questioning glance.
"Cover me, one is trying to run!"
"Go, we've got it from here!"
Not waiting a moment longer Harry sprinted in the direction of the retreating wizard, who at this point had slipped out of a solidarity door towards the corner of the vast chamber. Reaching the same doorway he skidded to a stop, readied his wand and conjured a shimmering shield before stepping through the doorway.
The moment the corridor came into view a jet of pale blue light lit up his vision and slammed into his shield, shattered it entirely. He staggered and dropped to his knee, narrowly avoiding a second attack before countering with a tripping hex, a stunner, and a bone breaker. His opponent lept over first, sidestepped the second and swatted the bone breaker with a slight grunt, the power of his curse not fully defended against.
The wizard began running, flinging all manner of spells towards him as he went, all deflected or dodged by Harry who shot back in response. One stunner sent from Harry connected just as the man reached a corner, yet instead of dropping the man as expected, instead the red spell slammed into his target before wrapping around his clothing and fizzled out.
What in Merlin was that?
The retreating individual however was not unaffected however, a loud grunt echoed throughout the corridor as they fell to one knee before stumbling back up. Before Harry would strike again, he watched as the wizard slashed wildly with their wand, a rush of heat and a whistle followed, filling the corridor as the wizard conjured flaming chains that spun with terrifying speed towards him.
Harry ducked with not a second to spare and yelled in pain as one of the chains slapped his shoulder, its brief touch caused a painful searing sensation that caused his nerves to protest. He swiftly dosed the wound in freezing water from his wand as he saw the wizard slump around the corner.
Shit that hurt!
Pulling himself up, Harry sprinted after the fleeing wizard. Pausing at the turn he glanced around, seeing the man running towards a large window at the end of the corridor, seeking to escape.
No, you don't.
He took his aim, looking to shatter the retreating wizard's leg. The hex on his lips and just as the spell was about to leap from his wand, he felt a weight slam into him. His balance ruined, his spell missed its target but still connected, shattering the wizard's wand and causing him to yell something in French and stumbled, the sound of tearing fabric filled the corridor as the man's sleeve caught on a pipe.
Harry didn't get to delight in this fact however as he slammed into the wall, narrowly avoiding it with his head, but his shoulder took the brunt. The same could not be said of his attacker. Taller and broader than himself, the man's head had collided with a rusted pipe that ran down the wall with an almighty crack, killing him instantly.
As he pushed the dead man's body from himself, he pulled himself free and rose to his knee. His body ached all over with his shoulder hurting the most. That distraction cost him. As Harry turned to look at the retreating figure he saw his targets extended hand, yet his reactions were too slow and he felt a sharp burning sensation in his ribs, as suddenly every breath felt like fire.
The wandless cutting curse was weak, had it been done with a wand he would have been dead, yet the damage was enough to knock the air out of him. He tried to raise his wand in defence, yet nothing else came. He watched as the wizard stumbled to his feet, holding his wand arm limply. His face still covered by his hood.
"Quite the show Potter, I look forward to our next meeting, perhaps a more formal duel next time?"
"Harry!"
They both jumped at the sound of George from further within the brewery.
"Until next time" the wounded Frenchman uttered before picking up a brick with his good hand and smashed the huge window he had been running for. Without a glance back he pulled himself through and dropped below. Harry didn't even bother to try and stop him, not when each breath was like a raging inferno.
"Harry!"
He couldn't call out, so he slapped the wall with his palm. Wincing as his ribs and shoulder protested even that motion. Thankfully that worked, within moments George appeared around the corner, a thin cut on above his eyebrow and bruised jaw but otherwise fine.
"Jesus Christ mate! Are you alright?" his partner hurried over, getting to his knee and lighting up the darkened hallway with his wand.
"Didn't take you for a Christian George" he chuckled but winced.
"Sod off, just don't tell my grandma and we will be fine alright, lets see what we are looking at here" George lowered his lit up wand to where a fair amount of blood had begun to soak his shirt. "Mate this isn't fatal but it's nasty, is this the bloke you chased?" nodding to the crumpled heap beside them.
"No .. He managed to get away, shattered his wand and broke his arm I think. Would've had him if this bloke hadn't have jumped me"
"I can see some fragments over there, will make sure to pick them up. Might be able to trace the wand after all" his partner muttered as he inspected the wound further.
"Get the fabric as well" Harry spoke up.
"What?"
"I hit him square with a stunner and it spread over his clothing before cutting out, that's not normal clothing"
George nodded before going back to the wound.
"You can't apparate with this wound, you'll snap a third rib and maybe rupture a lung, and I'm no healer"
"I know some basic healing spells"
Harry looked up whilst, George looked over his shoulder. Annabelle, Stefan and Gabriel stood watching the pair, each sporting minor wounds.
"All yours then" his partner nodded and stood back. The French auror quickly took his place and inspected the wound.
"You are very lucky Harry, I don't think whoever cast this meant to kill you" she spoke softly, peering into the cut.
"It was wandlessly cast" he offered. She looked up in acknowledgement, though the concern behind her eyes troubled him. He had only seen that look in one other woman. He hoped it was just the pain clouding his view, he didn't fancy the banter in the auror office if their theories about Annabelle were correct.
"Still, they could've hit your neck, you would've bled out in moments"
"Sobering thought"
"Quite, I can heal this a little, at least enough to hold up to apparition but the healer will need to do the rest"
"Right, George and Gabriel go and collect the bloke we caught at the start. We will wait here until you are back"
"Honestly you split your side open and put your feet up" George chuckled. "Come on Gabe lets go fetch"
"I told you I don't like that name" the Frenchmen grumbled as the pair walked off.
…
"At risk of repeating the other aurors Mr Potter, you are lucky. Anymore power and your lung and heart would be in two pieces" Healer Crawford said as his wand moved slowly, the wound on his side itching as it closed.
"Well I have had my fair share of luck"
"Lets just hope it never asks to cash in that share my boy" Crawford chuckled as he reviewed his chart and placed it on the desk. A frown etched his face before bringing his finger up to his brow. "Did you not have a medical check when you joined the aurors Mr Potter? Your medical history doesn't show this?"
"Er no I don't think so, once I'd passed my exams we were pretty much put into the field, never thought much of it" Harry replied, confused as to why he was being asked.
"Umm, I know these things get missed from time to time … Anyway, how have you been keeping? All well in yourself? Any aches, coughing anything like that?"
What was this about?
"No different that usual, I had a cough for a little while but nothing major-"
"How long?"
"About … six or seven weeks?"
"Umm any no other symptoms?" Healer Crawford's brow furrowed.
"No, should I have any?" he replied, starting to feel like he was being questioned by Dumbledore again.
"When inspecting your wound I saw some lumps on your lung .. That cutting curse really impacted the muscle and bone around the ribs so I was able to see" the elderly healer pushed up his glasses and leaned back in his chair. "Now given you've only been coughing I don't suspect anything major, you don't smoke do you?"
"Not at all"
"Umm, well I'm going to do some bloodwork, nothing to be alarmed about we do that normally after auror engagements just in case you've been hit with anything things like that"
"How long will that take?"
"Normally only a couple of days, but with things as they are it could take a little longer but honestly Mr Potter I don't think it is anything to worry about"
Harry nodded, truthfully he felt the healer was being overly concerned about nothing, but he would humour him anyway.
"I recommend you take it easy for a week, let the potions do their work to heal the tissue and bone damage and you will be fit as a fiddle in no time"
"Thank you healer Crawford, I best get back to my wife and daughter" earning a chuckle from the elderly man.
"Right you are, best not to keep a lady waiting, good evening Mr Potter"
…
Thank you for the beta work from Dorothea Greengrass, going to give her a break I think for a bit!
There will be an epilogue to this short fic before we return to some smaller one shots (Maybe the wedding?) before we return to the next story in this line called Shadow and Flame.
Chapter 5 (Epilogue) is in the works.