Chapter 11
July 27th, 2000
The storm has been building up for days now. A raw mixture of want, need and fire. It's almost time.
It's been an interesting week at work. Susan is back at work, planted firmly behind a desk. A bit of a waste, considering she is one of the finest wands on the Isles, but it's fitting for a mother of three.
Susan came in with me, and went to supervise interrogations. I spent the morning reading field reports. Both Susan's interrogations and my reports are connected to a single big case. Muggle drug trafficking by magical means, of all things.
It starts from a long slog of an organized crime investigation by the Metropolitan Police, into a big drug ring. Then there is the death of an undercover chap, found in an alley. No apparent cause, which raised an eyebrow in certain quarters. Then whispers of strange goings, of magic, in the criminal underground. The eyebrow turns into pointed interest. Talks, meetings and a joint task force with the Ministry. Hard facts uncovered, some obliviations and more investigation. A couple of months later and it all leads to a heavily warded warehouse outside Dublin.
The takedown itself is a large operation, twenty aurors and a dozen muggles, with people from my team on point. My personal job was to bring down the wards by brute force, and then, somewhat spent, stay sidelined as tactical reserve.
Inside the warehouse, ten heavily armed muggles four wizards, a witch and roughly twenty million pounds in contraband drugs, weapons and illegal potion ingredients. We achieve tactical surprise, but a slow, by-the-book takedown wastes it. An hour later, it's over. One auror, two constables and about half the hostiles end up dead. And seven aurors, three of them mine, in St. Mungo's.
Overall, for such harsh conditions, we did farly well. In addition, my team proved quite proficient. Of course, there is plenty of room for improvement, specially in coordinating with muggle forces. My painfully assembled report reflects that.
I get back home a little early. I first check on Elizabeth, who is hard at work with her sums and in a bad mood. The twins are napping and I find Susan propped up in bed, wearing one of my MU jerseys and bright yellow woolen socks, reading an Agatha Christie paperback. Long shapely legs on display.
"I thought we were not bringing work home," I tease her about her choice of entertainment. She startles a little and looks up with a coy smile. Clearly the legs are not just happenstance. There is a nice bit of Slytherin in my sweet Hufflepuff.
"Monsieur Poirot is inspiring." She marks her place with a thin gold-foil strip and sets it aside. "He doesn't need to blow up things to catch his man," she teases me back. There was some fireworks, and a little collateral damage when I took down those wards.
I smile, remove my shoes and lie down next to her. "Sometimes, to make an omelet..." I answer to the come hither in her eyes, sidle close and kiss her. She responds by melting in my arms. At the back of my head, a little succubus turns cartwheels and seems to burst in flames.
"What is it?" I'm restraining myself a little and Susan feels it.
"It's Elle. She's... restless."
Susan looks into my eyes, frowns a bit, and then smiles. It's not legillimency, just familiarity and well-developed instincts. "Just let go."
"You sure?" A little hunger shows in her face, and she nods. "Oh, you're on," I add.
I straddle her, and literally rip her shirt off. It's nice to be a little stronger. The look in her face... surprise, curiosity and arousal, no fear. Nice. She grins. "I'm your bitch, Potter. Do your worst." It comes out in a hoarse whisper.
Her breasts are full with milk and her nipples tender, so I tease a little, but avoid playing too hard. Her neck, armpits and belly are game. She moans in pleasure and pain. I'm kissing under her ear when she whispers. "You're still holding back."
I lift my eyes to hers. "I don't want to hurt you too much."
She laughs and bites my lower lip in reply, drawing blood. "Just shag me hard." Gabrielle and I growl in reply and let loose.
Grabbing her by the shoulders, I turn her around. "Bad girl." I spank her hard a few times, alternating cheeks. She yells and moans. Too much. I take off her knickers, sensible ones in pale green, pull her head back by the hair and stuff them as a little ball into her mouth. The moaning gets muffled.
Backing up, and standing over her, I pull her by the hips until she is on her knees near the edge of the bed. She is sopping wet, with bright red cheeks. One hand on her hip and another pulling her hair, arching her back into the perfect position, In one quick motion, I slide in. She is tight and warm and deliciously slick.
She responds with a muffled scream and pushes herself against me, as hungry for it as we are. I keep hold of her hips and move in and out, again and again, pushing myself deeper into her. She arches her back, looking for a better angle, mumbling incoherently through the gag. She shivers, and, in a few minutes, I can feel her solid magic pooling at the second chakra.
I reach around, touching her mons and pushing a little magic, with the loose intent to give her pleasure. The result is explosive. Her walls spasm and her orgasm feels like pulsing, pressure together with a slow electric wave. It moves up, and triggers my release when it passes through my own second chakra, five or six spurts of pleasure and magic. She melts under me, boneless.
"What was that?" She asks, after she can articulate again.
"A little trick." I owe Fleur a nice gift.
"Merlin!" She shudders a little. I lie down and pull her into a spooning. We fit well together. Gabrielle humms inside my head, still strung tight, but a little less antsy.
"Thank you, love."
Susan snickers. "You're welcome. Feel free to do an encore anytime you want."
I know she likes it rough at times. It's not really my thing, but indulging your lover's kinks is part of the fun. "I'll keep it in mind."
We stay down, enjoying the physical intimacy for a few minutes. Susan is not much of a cuddler, so I make a point to enjoy it while it lasts. After a while she turns around and kisses me, and pulls back a little. "I love you," she says in a whisper.
"And I love you." I caress her face and she smiles softly. I was once told not to take post-coital declarations very seriously, but I know Susan actually means it. I just wonder what prompted the statement.
That gets answered immediately. "It´s time, isn´t it?"
"Yes."
"You nervous?"
"A little. You?"
She sighs. "I'm not sure how I feel... what is it about, really?"
"Recently changed veela require a wizard's magic to anchor their feral side to the rational one. They lose themselves without it."
She purses her lips. "How dangerous is it?
"It's dangerous, but not for me. The bond has made me... sturdier."
Susan looks into my eyes for a bit, trying to figure out if this is truth or bravado. She clucks and shakes her head. "I just hope you are right."
"Trust me."
"I need you both back, sane and in one piece, you know?"
I shrug. "I'm not going to tell you not to worry."
She opens up a grin. "Because that would be useless." I nod. "Then go. Shag her good."
She follows me with her eyes, as I get ready to leave. I give her a parting kiss. "See you soon."
"Hm."
"Oh, I almost forgot. Can you cover for me tomorrow?"
"Of course. What's the script?"
"Boot's team is repeating the three-hostage scenario after lunch. They got their arses handed to them last week. I'm all caught up with paperwork, and anything else can wait."
"That's fine." I finish tying up my shoelaces. "Have fun, Magus."
It's the first time she uses Gabrielle's nickname for me. "I'm not entirely sure 'fun' applies."
"I'm sure it does, in some way." She giggles. "Be good."
"I am. You know it."
She giggles again. Adorable little noise.
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
I stand at the bottom of the stairs, in Number Twelve's basement. She is wearing a black yoga set and fancy trainers, lying on a weight-lifting bench, doing quick pect lifts with a twenty-five-pound weight in each hand. Her chest and shoulders burn a little with the effort.
An odd sight, a petite woman doing heavy weight work. She is also trying bloody hard to focus away from what's bothering her.
The weights click lightly against each other at the top of the motion. She does not acknowledge my presence, but her allure is all the way on. My mind starts to go fuzzy, both from her feelings and my reaction to her allure. Lots of wrackspurts, I suppose.
She drops the weights and crouches on the bench. Without really thinking I take a couple of steps forward. She looks at me, feathers dusting her arms, legs and neck. Her clothes smolder and burning holes begin to appear. Her mind is a feral blank. Her face elongates, turns sharper and she screeches. Inch-long talons instead of nails. In a couple of seconds she rips her clothes away. Then she jumps straight at me, a single twenty-foot leap, still screeching.
A Veela's first time is important. A few days after the Change, after their magic recovers from the ordeal, the Heat begins. She must find a wizard. In old days, that would eventually lead to a mature Veela, in full possession of her powers, and a smoldering corpse. Sometimes the wizard would overpower the Veela, with a wholly different outcome. This inevitably led to centuries of conflict, and the near-extinction of the Veela. With rarity, Veela became precious, and acquired a measure of influence. Eventually, a compromise was reached, where a wizard would be provided. Protected with potions and rituals, he could survive the experience, and be richly rewarded. With a bit of ancient low humor, such wizards are still called Phallus.
Advice always given to a new Phallus: Stay cool and alert. And, most of all, don't fight her head on. That piece of wisdom goes through my head as my beautiful Angel of Death jumps at me. Our eyes meet. Hunger and joy. Fire. I laugh, as I grab her wrists and roll, tumbling, breaking her momentum. There is no thought, no plan. I end up on top of her, holding her hands to the floor. She struggles, much too strong. She wants me and I want exactly what she wants. But my pants are still on, and if I let her go, there is going to be blood.
We turn around on the floor, legs entangled. I let loose her wrists. She screeches and claws at my shoulders. There is a little restraint in her, as she enjoys letting go, but not really all the way. She lowers her head and she licks, a long raspy tongue leaving an electric trail on my neck. I finally remove my pants. Without hesitation, she impales herself to the hilt. A twitch, as something irrelevant breaks. She is hot, wet and tight. We both scream with the pain and pleasure of it. Awareness flees and we rut. She is a slick, hungry furnace. Joy. She claws at my chest, blood and fire. I grab her wrists again and turn. Now I'm on top of her, pinning her down while we keep doing it. Her legs around my waist, pulling me deeper.
Our eyes meet again. Our minds mingle, losing any boundaries. We feel the fullness, stretching us, touching our depths and we feel the embrace of slick burning flesh tight around us. More wild rutting. We are getting there, a bubble of pleasure growing, and we move faster, more desperately. Her need is my need is our need. Oblivion approaches as we come closer, our one mind shutting down with too much sensation. Too much magic. Things explode. And darkness falls.
I'm lying down flat on my back, on a hard mat, a bit of individuality returned. With a weight on top. I take stock. Faint itches and pains. I open my eyes to a familiar pair of cornflower blues and a smile. She is pleased. Very pleased. And so am I.
"Hey."
"Hey, you." I reply. "What's up?"
She rubs herself against me, getting a definite reaction. "Not you."
"Yet." The reaction gets more noticeable.
"Hm." She wiggles a bit more, lines things up and I slide in. She stays there, sort of squeezing without moving. We are both a little sore, but it doesn't matter. The double sensation, even without the earlier craziness is overwhelming. She rests a pair of delicate hands on my chest and moves her hips back and forth in a slow motion.
She humms some indistinct tune as she continues the slow movement. The chaos of the Heat is still there, but she keeps it tightly confined. This is for fun, not need. I surrender to her, happy to learn where she wants to go. She leans forward. I cup her breasts, squeezing the hard points a little. She enjoys it, her slow motion becoming a little more urgent. We kiss, long and soft. There are muscles she can control, almost caressing me with her walls. We keep at it, bringing ourselves to the edge. Then stopping and going, staying near the peak for a while. A game of sorts, stretching things until they nearly hurt. Then, I get a little impatient, pull on her hips a few times, and we both finish.
She lays on top of me for a couple of minutes. Then my stomach growls and she giggles. "Kreacher."
A pop. A respectful bow. "Yes, Mistress.."
"Food and water, please."
There an air of satisfaction about the old elf. It's Gabrielle and I doing our duty for the House of Black, I presume. Another bow and he leaves.
We get up and examine ourselves and each other. There is faint marks of burns and scratches on my skin, already fading. A cracked rib, a pulled muscle in my left shoulder. Nothing, really. Gabrielle seems to glow, her magic settled and smug, like a well-fed cat. She stretches, and her spine pops a little.
January 11th, 2001
There is light snow and a dusting of white over the dirty street. Light traffic, with cars going by every few seconds and very few people on the sidewalks. The woman wobbles out of a bar, not drunk, but not quite sober either. She's pretty, in an over-the-top way, with long dirty-blonde hair, curled and held in a loose ponytail down to the middle of her back. Heavy make-up, with large hoop earrings. Under-dressed, with a short dark blue number highlighting a nicely curved figure, red fishnet stockings, and high heels. She works as a secretary for a shipping company and shares a small flat a few blocks away. Her friend and housemate paired up with a nice-looking bloke and left a few minutes before, and, with nothing interesting in the horizon, she is headed straight to her pillow. Or so she thought.
She's a couple of blocks away from her building when a dark red light hits her from behind. Darkness follows.
The housemate worries about her friend's disappearance and call the police. There is and investigation. A cash machine camera from across the street caught the edge of the incident, and the footage is noticed by the someone, who passes it to someone else. Four days later, I'm shown the short video in a shielded room at the Ministry. The assailant is blonde, male, and seems quite large. His face can be seen in a blurry profile just as he's apparating away.
The name comes out sounding like a snarl. "Rowle."
"We believe so." Robarts replies. "This was in Hamburg, near the port, almost four days ago. The girl is a muggle, Ilse Hammering, twenty-four."
"Fuck." Even chance the girl is still alive.
"Precisely." Kingsley adds dryly. "With the violation of the Statute of Secrecy, and a lot of pressure from the muggle authorities, the Germans actually got off their greasy arses." Robarts clucks, pleased. The German Ministry is known for pureblood bias. "There is a possible location," Kingsley continues. "They want someone there for the takedown."
"Observer?" I ask.
"Support. And full authority under an ICW warrant." Kingsley explains with a grin and hands me an envelope with the ICW seal. "Be smart."
I grin right back. A brief check tells me it's more-or-less an official hunting license. They don't really want to arrest the wanker. Too much paperwork, I suppose. "When do I leave?"
He gives me a large brass ring. "Twenty minutes." He holds back the portkey for an instant when I reach for it. "Happy hunting." I just grin and nod in reply. I truly dislike the evil git.
I grab some magical armor, write an airplane note to Susan saying I'll probably be late getting home. Then I send a burst of affection and lust aimed at Gabrielle. She replies with a happy bubble, her legs burning a little with whatever she is doing. Since the change, she's been doing a crazy amount of practice to adapt her old skills to the new body. Quite successfully if, I'm not mistaken.
The portkey drops me at some kind of waiting room, with a few mismatched armchairs along the walls and a thin wizard with with a handlebar mustache behind a beat-up desk.
"I'm Senior Auror Potter, from the British Ministry," I reply to a question asked in German.
The wizard just points me to a side door and grunts.
Inside, a meeting room, with steel file cabinets, a grimy window, a portrait of a beady-eyed fat wizard and a large table with a dozen chairs. Around the table, eight wizards, six of them in blue uniform robes, and a couple of others. The youngest is probably twice my age and some of them might be twice that. Mostly out-of-shape, and annoyed at the interruption. "I'm Auror Potter."
"I'm Director Kasselmann," the older wizard in civilian robes replies. He then introduces the others, in heavily accented English. And continues "Auror Potter was sent by the British Ministry to assist in capturing and taking custody of Herr Rowle, our Ministry's request."
There is a moment of silence, and one of the uniformed Aurors sneers in my direction. "So, they decided to send their 'poster child'."
Been there, and no longer care. I just grin and reply. "I'm actually here on an ICW warrant." My sarcastic tone is met with stony silence, so I add, as I pass my paperwork to Herr Hasselman. "I´ve crossed wands with Rowle."
There's a bit of confusion, where they all begin to speak at the same time, in German. I wait, and eventually their boss raises his eyes from my documents and growls. "Schweige." This quiets them down. "What can you tell us about Herr Rowle," he asks me.
I stop for a moment to organize my thoughts, while they all look at me. "He is a berserker type. Physically and magically strong, very aggressive, a little stupid, and likes the killing curse a lot."
They just stare at me, so I shrug and add: "Don't try talking to him."
Kasselman frowns and lifts a hand, before one of his subordinates can speak. "Thank you for your 'wisdom', Auror Potter." A faint mocking tone, and a muffled snicker from nowhere. "You may observe, but not interfere."
I press my lips together and nod. That's not what the ICW warrant says. Still, I've learned to pick my battles. "As you wish... and good luck."
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
Floo arrival at the new Bones Manor is on a windowless, corridor-like room, with the fireplace in one wall, and a double door in heavy dark wood opposite to it. Susan takes a moment to balance herself after arriving, then walks quickly across, her dragonhide boots playing a dull drumbeat on the polished stone floor. She is wearing full auror regalia over jeans and a cream cashmere jumper, her hair tied in a sloppy ponytail.
The doors open into a double-height room with a sweeping staircase and, past that, a sitting room with a fireplace, couches and armchairs, and a few large landscape paintings. It's around four in the afternoon and Susan finds Gabrielle and Elizabeth feeding the twins and chatting softly in one of the big couches. They both turn to Susan and smile when she walks in. "Well, good afternoon, ladies."
"Hello, Mother." Elizabeth drawls. "You're early."
Susan sits next to Gabrielle and picks up Adhara from her. The baby wiggles a bit, but settles down and continues nursing. It's been a month since they've been weaned, and Susan is still a little conflicted about it. Her breasts and nipples are no longer sore, thank Magic for that, but she misses the closeness. She shakes her head and replies to Elizabeth's comment. "An easy day. Evildoers take a break after the holidays, perhaps."
Elizabeth nods as if receiving deep wisdom, and Gabrielle giggles. Quiet suckling for a little, then Edgar finishes his bottle and fusses. He's a greedy little imp. Elizabeth, with a surprisingly practiced motion, places the baby on her shoulder, taps gently on his back and coos. The baby squirms a bit, settles, then burps loudly. "Bien!" Gabrielle says to nobody.
Elizabeth holds Edgar by his armpits and frowns at him. "He needs a fresh one," she explains, getting up, still holding the baby a little away from herself, her thin arms straining with the weight. "Leeta."
A soft pop. "Mistress Betty."
"Eddy needs a nappy." She hands the baby to the elf, who pops away without a word. Elizabeth gets up and straightens her dress. She gives Susan one of her trademark expressionless looks. "When is Dad coming home?"
Susan's lips twitch. She tries to hide it, but Elizabeth is quite the Daddy's girl. "Probably not today."
The little girl raises an eyebrow. "I see..." She lowers the eyebrow, turns around and walks towards the stairs. "I'll be in my room," she adds in a somber tone without turning back.
After Elizabeth is out of earshot, Susan and Gabrielle exchange a glance, and snicker. "I suspect she wants to be a vampire when she grows up," Gabrielle adds.
Susan laughs, as the comment brings up an image of a grown, sallow Elizabeth, with greasy hair, teaching potions in a darkened dungeon. "Remind me to tell you about Snape," Susan replies to Gabrielle's curious look. "How is Harry?" Susan is involved in preparing a possible Wizengamot case. She knows Harry is among strangers, without support, his ass covered by a flimsy piece of parchment from the ICW. Worrisome.
Before Gabrielle can reply, Adhara finishes her bottle. Susan picks up the baby from Gabrielle, switches the little bit of cloth from Gabrielle's shoulder to her own, cuddles the baby against her shoulder and taps her back gently. Gabrielle closes her eyes and seems to space out a bit. The baby burps loudly and Gabrielle opens her eyes. "He is fine. Just bored and annoyed."
Adhara gurgles and then scrunches her face a little. Susan holds the baby away from herself and calls: "Tilly!"
The elf pops up. "Mistress Suzy?"
"Please take little stinky here for a nappy and a nap."
The house-elf holds Adhara by her armpits, who whimpers a bit. "Little Miss Addy needs a change. Yes... right away, Mistress." The elf pops away with the baby.
Gabrielle giggles. "The joys of motherhood with house-elves. I can't fathom how Fleur does it... without."
Susan shrugs. After the pregnancy, birth and six-months of breastfeeding, she feels herself entitled to a little break. "I'm just happy I don't have to find out." She checks out Gabrielle, who is looking rather nice, barefoot, in a pale yellow summer dress and her hair unbound. "No practice today?"
Gabrielle grimaces in distaste. "I took the afternoon for studying."
Susan smiles in sympathy. "And how is that coming along?"
"I could probably do Charms and History today." Those are her favorite subjects. "I still have to work for Runes and Herbology."
"I'll help you with Runes, if you want."
"Thanks." Gabrielle nods. "I might take you up on that." She stretches slowly, bending her back like a lazy cat. "I'm going to spend some time with Muggle subjects later. How was your day?"
"Mostly boring, except when I was teaching some newbies how to crush and melt wrongdoers."
Gabrielle grins. From what she knows of Susan, crushing and melting is a very literal description. Their eyes meet. Susan is caught by Gabrielle's luminous blue eyes, her air of mischief, and the faint feel of her allure. Susan's mind goes out for a loop, also feeling a little jealousy at Gabrielle's connection with Harry. "What?" Gabrielle asks, puzzled.
Instead of answering Susan sits next to Gabrielle and pulls her by the shoulder and kisses her, cupping a breast with her other hand. Gabrielle, quick to catch on, wraps her arms around the redhead's neck, deepens the kiss and moans softly. They snog for a little while, and then part a few inches, Susan's hand still caressing the little blonde's breast. They are both breathing hard.
"Wow!" Gabrielle adds. They kissed a few times, even snogged once or twice, but it was always Gabrielle's initiative. The veela never hid her attraction to Susan. "What was that?"
Susan smiles sheepshly. "I was thinking of Harry..." trying to deflect her own confusion. Gabrielle and Harry kiss differently, Harry is more assertive, and Gabrielle more playful. And they both do interesting things with their tongues...
Gabrielle shrugs, looks inwards for a moment, and then smiles. Harry felt it and definitely approves. "We enjoyed it."
Broken out of her tongue daydream, Susan laughs. She enjoyed it too. Maybe she's a little less straight than previously advertised. Hopefully, dear Hannah doesn't find out...
Hannah tried a few times to get something going between them. Even inebriated, Susan turned her down, almost losing their friendship. There was always a certain `yuck` there. Maybe it was a sister thing, not a girl thing, because there has never been any `yuck` with Gabrielle.
Susan breathes in and out, gathering a little courage. "More, please?" Gabrielle snickers and jumps on Susan's lap for 'more'.
=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=o=
Waiting for action can be... boring. Specially while around a number of german-speaking uncouth monkeys pretending to be aurors. I conjured myself a hard chair, trying not to fall asleep, but after a while, that was just compounded annoyance. Until my girls, Circe bless their wonderful dirty minds, decided to relieve me of my woes. The feel of Suzy's clever fingers and tongue on Elle`s bits... Merlin above! I wonder what came over my girlfriend, to just get over herself like that. I must get them a nice thank you gift. Such a perfect distraction from the pack of idiots.
It's past ten when a team of five aurors and myself finally portkey to some nondescript dirty alley somewhere. There are two aurors already there, casting muggle-repelling wards and keeping an eye on things. One of the aurors exchanges a few words with the lead in the arriving team, but nobody bothers to translate the report to me. Some of the irritation I was feeling before the girls' 'intervention' comes right back. I make a conscious effort to clear my mind and dampen the link to Gabrielle. This is going to be ticklish enough without additional distractions.
The target is inside a two story cinderblock warehouse standing next to a river dock, and lightly warded. There are two obvious entrances, an unloading truck ramp from the street and another from the waterfront.
The group`s commander approaches me, speaking with a thick accent. "You vill cast anti-travel vards and hold zem. You vill not interfere. Is zat understood?" Annoyed, I nod in assent.
I hide in the shadows, about sixty feet to the side of the building. The assault team splits in two, five to the front door, and two to cover the riverfront back. As they work the wards around the building I pick up from a pocket a couple of flat three-inch stones, covered in runes. A little gift from Bill and Fleur. Once charged, these will generate Hogwarts-strength anti-apparition and anti-portkey fields for about twenty minutes. I push magic onto the stones, hard enough to build myself a little sweat, and levitate them until they are lying on the ground next to opposite ends of the warehouse. In a hundred-yard radius, even one of the old Dark Lord portkeys will not go through.
One of the aurors bangs on the front door and shouts something, wasting whatever little surprise they might have. Someone tries to leave, first by apparition and then by portkey. Tries and fails. Then there is an explosion, one of the aurors is ejected backwards, coming to a stop twenty feet away from the door, covered in blood. There is more screaming, another explosion from the back, more screaming, then silence.
I conjure four large dogs and two snakes and send them to the back door. The dogs will get in and make noise, attacking whoever attacks them. The snakes will ambush anyone who tries to leave through the back. I approach the fallen auror outside and banish a couple of fast-action potions straight into his stomach. Maybe he will live. The raucus from inside begins again, with barking, screaming and explosions.
I disillusion myself and walk through the front door, perfectly aware of the stupidity of what I`m about to do. I was just hoping to use some surprise, but, as I`m beginning to look, my idiocy catches up with me. A stray bludgeoner hits my left knee and I fall, trying to hold back a scream.
They are all too busy to notice me, thank Merlin. After the haze of pain clears a little, I climb to one knee. Four aurors are down, probably dead. One of my dogs is left, harassing one of the aurors, who appears to have joined the other side. Rowle is standing firm, exchanging curses with the other auror still in the fight. The surprise of the evening is to my left. Blonde, slightly built Derrick bloody Avery, wand out, is holding a girl by the hair. Last time I saw him, he was on his knees at a graveyard, begging forgiveness. I grin, despite the danger and the pain. It's double the prize. Two inner-circle morons for the price of one.
The bad auror manages to finish my dog, so, before he can focus on the good auror, I cast an overpowered bombarda towards his legs. The resulting explosion sends his broken body flying, shakes the building, and obscures the middle of the warehouse with dust and debris.
Avery recovers quickly and yells my name, and sends a silent yellowish spell towards me. I recognize the acid splash curse and bat it aside. It melts a section of the concrete floor. Meanwhile, Rowle screams, after getting pelted by debris. He seems a little dazed, but quickly pulls out of it, after barely avoiding a spell from the last auror.
I grind my teeth, standing in one leg and dodge another curse from Avery. Rowle finally nails the auror with a death curse and gets clipped at the shoulder, nearly dodging a dark cutting curse from me. With my mobility compromised, I am in serious trouble.
With practice, it takes two seconds to incant the death curse. Rowle does it even faster, the intent permanently etched at the front of his diseased brain. Avery, on the other hand is much slower. He articulates loudly to muster the killing intent. What`s more, while casting, you`re not shielding. A bad choice of spell for a fight. My piercer, on the other hand, is silent, and takes a fraction of a second to cast. I send three at Rowle, all center body. The nimble bastard manages to dodge two, but one of them hits sideways across his chest, leaving a half-inch hole clear across both his lungs and taking him out permanently. Still, he managed to get his curse out, and I have to throw myself to the ground to avoid it. Meanwhile, Avery is still painfully screaming his curse: "Avada Keda..."
He is also hiding behing the muggle girl, holding her by the neck. The position is awkward, but I manage to hurl the bone dagger at him.
I've learned a couple of things since Theo´s death. Wandless magic is uncommon, but summoning objects with a strong connection with you is not. About one-fourth of the aurors can summon their own wands from ten feet away, and I can summon my glasses too. As it turns out, I can also do a somewhat controlled banishing of my blood-keyed dagger. I did it unconsciously when I killed Theo, which makes the incident a bit less of a miracle. Then I practiced it. Hours and hours. A spell, once cast, moves in a straight line, so hitting someone who is hiding behind someone else is a difficult proposition. The dagger, on the other hand can be roughly guided and propelled after sending it. I focus hard, and, despite his instinctive attempt at dodging, the it takes the bone knife half a second to travel thirty feet and end up in Avery`s left eye. He manages to finish the killing curse, but his flinching sends the green spell right into the ceiling.
I look around. Rowle is dead, sprawled in a pool of his own blood. The six aurors also appear dead, except for the traitor. I send an overpowered stunner at him and conjure a crutch, dragging myself to towards the muggle, who is still in Avery`s dead clutches. She is glassy-eyed and appears to be in shock. I pull her aside, more-or-less wrap her in a conjured blanket and try to sit next to her.
In my mind I feel Gabrielle going spare with worry...