The Purge

A mandatory Halloween chapter. Well, technically it's the night before Halloween.

TW: Violence, mentions of sexual assault against children. Also some teen drama and inappropriate use of sugar, bees, and flies.

Mischief Night

Halloween had never been a good time for Harry. In fact, Harry could quite honestly say that Halloween had fucked up his life on more than one occasion. He truly, deeply hated the holiday. And he didn't understand why it was so popular with wizards; in muggle Britain, it was only popular maybe sixty percent of the time as many people thought of it as being some made up American holiday. All right, he would admit there was an ancient precedent for it, but the entire thing was just derived from a bunch of superstitious primitives who thought they could chase ghosts and fairies back to the spirit world by dressing up in stupid costumes and getting riotously drunk.

At least the candy they served at the Hogwarts Halloween feast was something of a compensation. Harry wondered if he could sneak some razor-blades into the candied apples near some of his remaining targets. After all, why should Harry be the only miserable person on Halloween?

"I can understand why you'd hate this time of year," Tracey said as they had lunch together by the Black Lake. It wasn't a date; it was a strategy meeting! "I would too if my parents had been murdered on Halloween."

"Or if people started thinking you were a Dark Lord because you were in the wrong place at the wrong time," Harry added. "Or if your name came out of an enchanted goblet and got you roped into a crazy tournament that nearly got you killed."

"Or if it coincided with a certain pink toad being made dictator of Hogwarts."

"I think the title is 'High Inquisitor.'"

"Who cares? How long is she gonna last anyway?"

"Most of the year. Possibly until the last week or so of school."

"That long?"

"Tradition. The Defense Against the Dark Arts professor always lasts until the end of the year when they make a big attempt to kill or maim me in some way."

"That's actually happened? I thought that was just a rumor the Hufflepuffs started."

"Hufflepuffs?"

"It's always the 'Puffs, Harry. And do we really have to wait so long to get rid of Umbridge? Because I've worked out some great ideas for how to deal with her. My favorite involves a jar of rats that we can glue to her face. Then we blowtorch the other end of the jar…"

As Harry listened to Tracey recount her vivid and brutal description of her preferred method of murdering Professor Umbridge, he couldn't help but notice how lovely her sapphire blue eyes were as they were overcome by unholy bloodlust.


"Knives?"

"Check!"

"Duct tape?"

"Check!"

"Petrol?"

"Double-check!"

"Angry, Africanized bees?"

"Check!"

"Rope?"

"Uh, no rope, Harry," said Sally-Anne.

"What?!" said Harry. "How could we not have rope? Rope is an essential item!"

"We could always conjure bindings on our victim when we need them," Hermione suggested.

"What, and leave a magical signature for the aurors to find?"

"Harry, I'm starting to have some reservations about this whole business."

"You promised you'd help me with my plans, Hermione. Are you welching on our agreement?"

Hermione gave a short sigh. Once she'd gotten over the initial horror of the fact that her friend was a psychotic murderer, she'd reasoned to herself that as long as he was only killing people who deserved it then she could overlook his actions as just another of the kooky things her best friend did in his spare time.

"No. But are you really sure that torture and murder are the only way to win the war?"

"Considering who his mum was, it's not really surprising," said Daphne, who sitting down in a nearby armchair reading a book. Harry had assigned her to research as she didn't quite have the stomach for field operations; her current project was finding out what the locket Regulus Black had stolen was (Harry hadn't forgotten about his promise to Kreacher and, having read Regulus' old journal, he knew it was important to defeating Voldemort; though he had no idea what a 'horcrux' was).

"What do you mean by that, Daphne?" said Harry.

"Wait, you don't know? I thought everyone in the wizarding world knew."

"Raised by muggles," Harry and Hermione said in sync.

"Oh, well, it was never confirmed or anything, but there are stories…"

And so, Daphne gave a brief but vivid account of what she'd heard from her uncle, who had been in the auror corps with Harry's mother. The picture painted of 'Bleeding Lily' left Harry considerable food for thought. If his mother was so notorious for her violence, why in hell did he remember her pleading for mercy from Voldemort instead of blasting him to bits? Something fishy was definitely going on.

"Harry, where should I stow the piranhas?" Sally-Anne asked.


Jarvis Avery was just sitting down to dinner. His brother Leopold couldn't make it as he'd been called away to a meeting with the Dark Lord. It was just as well, it meant he wouldn't have to sit through idle chit-chat before being able to enjoy his evening entertainment. At least his brother came through for him on that front, thanks to Leopold's contact at the ministry. While Jarvis himself was an auror, he wasn't privy to all the information in his department.

He was just pouring himself a glass of wine when he heard a slight 'thump' in the other room. His senses went on high alert. He'd heard about what happened to Nott and he wasn't going to go down easily. Memories of the previous war surfaced in his mind of the phantom figure who'd butchered many of his Death Eater comrades. Could it be back? He'd thought – hoped – it had perished during the last war.

The noise sounded again, louder and closer. Again, closer still. He couldn't move; he told himself that he didn't want to give away his position. Again, it was right outside the door. The handle started shaking violently. Then it all stopped.

Silence. A loud kind of silence.

"Good evening, Mr. Avery," a cold voice said behind him.

He screamed.


Jarvis Avery thought he knew cruelty, thought he knew torture, but nothing could have prepared him for what he experienced that night. The smiling face of Harry Potter as he slit Avery's stomach open and tied him up with his own small intestine would surely haunt the man in hell.

"Sorry," the boy said, not sounding sorry at all. "I had to improvise. Someone couldn't find any rope. Anyway, what I want to know is how you found those children. Was it random or did you go after them for a specific reason? I would suggest not lying to me. I'll be able to tell if you're lying."

"Leopold!" Jarvis exclaimed. "It was my brother Leopold! He has a contact at the ministry!" At the warning glance from Potter, he began to stammer. "I don't know who! Please, please don't kill me!"

"Well, that was anti-climactic. And what part of this conversation made you think you would leave it alive? You're not leaving this house except in a body bag. Possibly also without your skin and various other parts of your anatomy. I mean, seriously, did you expect anything less for being a child-molester? Oh, don't worry about your brother; I'll be sending him to see you in hell very soon."


Dolores Umbridge was in a bind. When the Potter brat had escaped from the dementors, she thought that coming to Hogwarts would be the perfect chance to not only eliminate Dumbledore's support base but get rid of the obnoxious little upstart. But things had only gone downhill since she set foot in the castle.

Pureblood students being murdered left and right. A student rebellion headed by Dumbledore (and she had been forbidden from punishing the students involved because of the flimsy excuse that they were under the influence of potions). Potter had not given her a single reason to give him detention. And even being named headmistress as well as High Inquisitor had fallen completely flat as none of the students (or the even the castle itself) seemed to recognize her authority.

But she would show them. She would show them all!

At the Halloween feast, which would take place tomorrow night, she would announce her new educational decrees. Her original plan had been to just hang them up outside the Great Hall, but she decided that officially proclaiming them to the entire student body was the better way to go (before then pinning them up outside the Great Hall).

Yes, soon all those little runts would learn never to anger Dolores Jane Umbridge!


Harry cheerily whistled a jaunty tune as he spread the petrol around the dining room. He had enjoyed torturing Avery perhaps a little more than he should have. Of course, as he'd said, rapists (especially child-rapists) didn't deserve to live, or not experience horrific pain like being skinned, covered in boiling melted sugar, and then having thousands of Africanized bees and biting flies released on them. Actually, that was pretty tame compared to what Harry wanted to do to him, but he was on a timetable and he needed to stick to it.

"Harry, are you really sure you want to burn the place to the ground?" Hermione asked.

"After what's gone on in this house I don't want any reminders of the repugnant depths to which a human being can sink," Harry replied as casually as if he'd been discussing the weather.

"Are you talking about what you did to Avery or what Avery did to those children we found locked up in his basement?"

"The latter, obviously. I'm very much aware of the depths to which I am willing to stoop. Has Sally-Anne finished getting those children out of there?"

"Yes, Harry. The only question left is would it be kinder to erase their memories of what happened or do we respect their rights to know the truth?"

"Well, leaving out the fact that our underage magic use would draw unwanted attention from the authorities, would you want to go through the rest of your life never knowing that some sick bastard did to you what Avery did to those children? Personally, I would want to know so that I could make sure the bastard got his comeuppance and use my hatred of people like that to drive me to be a better person."

"I see what you mean."

"No, no I don't think you really do, Hermione. It is a very interesting ethical question. Are there some things people are better off not knowing? I also probably wouldn't have the stomach to tell any children of my own what I did for my personal fifth year project. That is, of course, if any woman would want to have children with me after finding out what a monster I am."

"You're not a monster, Harry."

"Try telling that to people if word of this gets out."

"Well, I don't think you should worry too much about finding a girl who will like you despite your…unsavory hobbies. I've seen the way that Tracey has been eyeing you recently."

"What I did is no different than what her own father would have done once he found out what the tossers did to her. Besides, I promised Sirius that we would go to the tropics to get drunk and chat up women of loose morals."

"All the same, I still think you should ask her out to Hogsmeade."

"Fine conversation you two are having," Sally-Anne said as she rejoined her co-conspirators. "Talking about ethics, murder, and dating all at the same time."

"Those things are probably more similar than I'd care to consider," said Harry. "Anyway, how are those kids doing?"

"Not so good, Harry. Several of them need medical treatment and two of the younger ones can't stop crying. I-I don't know what we're going to do."

"Have any of the children seen magic?"

"I think, considering how young they are, they might later figure out ways to rationalize what they went through, that any magic they witnessed or experienced was just something they didn't understand at the time."

"Give them some sleeping draught. We'll take them to a non-magical hospital. Dobby!"

The house elf popped into view.

"Yes, Harry Potter sir?"

"There are six muggle children who need to be taken to safety. When Sally-Anne gives them some sleeping draught, I want you to take them to the nearest non-magical hospital."

Dobby nodded and went with Sally-Anne back to where the children were. Several minutes later, when Sally-Anne and Dobby returned, Harry pulled out a small box of matches.

"Well, shall I?"


Leopold Avery stumbled through the fireplace into his living room. The Dark Lord had not been in a particularly good mood and had taken his irritation out on any of his followers who had been stupid enough to be within cursing distance. Unfortunately, that included Leopold. He shuffled over to the sideboard to get himself a drink to steady his nerves.

After all, there was nothing worse than a Cruciatus from the Dark Lord.

"Good evening."

Leopold shot round to see a dark figure sitting in his armchair. The figure slowly raised his head and Leopold could see a pair of Killing Curse green eyes.

"Who are you?" Leopold demanded.

"It's not really important who I am," the man said calmly. "It's what I'm going to do."

Leopold began to reach for his wand.

"And what is that?" he said.

"I haven't decided yet. But it will likely be worse than what I did to your brother."

Leopold Avery had only a moment to process this before his world went black.


"Success!"

Tracey looked up from her homework at Daphne's exclamation. She wished that she could've gone on the mission; unlike her best friend, Tracey wasn't really the research type of girl. At least Harry promised to bring her on the next mission.

"What is it, Daphne?" she said.

"I figured out what that locket is," said Daphne proudly. "And what's more, I know how to destroy it and any others that might exist all in one go."

"Really?"

"Yes. It's all right here in this book I asked Mum to send me."

"Your mother didn't question why you needed a book on Dark Magic?"

"I told her it was for a Defense Against the Dark Arts project."

"And she bought that?"

"All right, so my mum isn't the brightest owl in the parliament. What matters is that the mystery is solved. The supreme leader will be pleased."

"Supreme leader? Is that what we're calling Harry now?"

"Well, you come up with a better codename."

"Seriously, who would call him that?"

At that moment, the door to the Room of Requirements opened and Luna Lovegood skipped in to join them.

"Hello, Daphne. Hello, Tracey. Is the supreme leader back yet?"

Daphne looked smugly at Tracey, who glared back.

"You know something, Daphne," said Tracey. "I really hate you."


Harry was humming the tune of the Anvil Chorus with each pull of the saw through Leopold Avery's remaining arm. He'd already sawed off the other one, as well as his hands and feet. He was doing things by degrees. Hermione was helping Sally-Anne; there were even more children locked up in this house than at Jarvis Avery's. It was bad, really bad. And Leopold Avery wasn't going to get the relatively merciful death that his brother had.

"You know something, Mr. Avery," said Harry. "The strangest thing about this is that I don't even hate you. Oh, you disgust me beyond the furthest reaches of human comprehension, certainly. But I don't think I actually have it in me to hate anyone. This is just business really."

Leopold Avery screamed as the saw tore through another artery.

"Well, maybe it is personal on some strange cosmic level. So, I really just want to cut to the chase, already. Who is your ministry contact and what do they have to do with the children you abducted?"

"Please," Avery sobbed brokenly.

"I'm not hearing a name. Perhaps I should just move ahead. Now where did Sally-Anne put that jar of piranhas?"

"No, please! Hopkirk! It's Mafalda Hopkirk from the Improper Use of Magic Office! She tells me the names and addresses of muggle-born children so I can make sure they disappear."

That certainly explained a lot. The wizarding world had horribly dwindling numbers. While all the inbreeding between purebloods explained a good deal of it and the last war did its damage as well, that still didn't entirely account for why there were so few muggle-borns. And someone like Mafalda Hopkirk would be ideally-placed for giving information on muggle-borns to Death Eaters.

"And what do you do with the children you abduct?" said Harry.

"They're sold around mostly," Avery choked out through a groan of agony. "I keep the ones I like best and sell the rest to others."

"Who are your buyers?!" Harry demanded. "Tell me, now!"

"Behind the p-portrait in my s-study. There's a list. Please, please let me go."

"What is it with you people thinking I'm going to let you live? Honestly, I'm certain that all the inbreeding has irreparably damaged the intelligence levels of countless pureblood families."

Harry reached into a magically-expanded bag and began removing objects to set up an unusual apparatus.

"Tell me, Mr. Avery, have you ever heard of a Judas Cradle?"