It had been three days since Harry sent the elves to find and capture Mundungus Fletcher and yet the thief was still at large. The elves hadn't managed to track him down and he certainly wasn't going to surrender himself voluntarily. Although he was as yet unaware that Lord Peverell had declared his life forfeit, he was not willing to face Dumbledore's wrath. Frank had said nothing on the matter yet nor was the ministry outwardly doing anything about it but behind the scenes, every Auror was looking for the thief. Dung, the thief that he was, was hiding somewhere unknown to everyone. Meanwhile, Harry had sent a letter to Alastor Moody and talked to him about it.
Moody had told him that Albus had conveyed to him that Harry had claimed his life as forfeit. Harry had in turn told him that he will deliver the thief to him when he was captured and Moody could do whatever he wanted to with the thief. Moody for his part, was willing to torture him until he squealed like a pig and then would hand him over to the ministry. The ministry would get to dispense justice to him in the end. After all, neither Harry nor Moody wanted the ministry to feel that its authority was being usurped.
Much more publicly, the manhunt was going on for the Carrows. They were among the most violent and adept death eaters. It wouldn't do to let those two roam around spreading terror. Since the death eaters had gone all out, it was getting worse. Just a day ago, a family of muggles in Sheffield was killed at the hands of three death eaters. A car full of muggles had been torched and the poor helpless muggles had died inside. A bus had been overturned in Yorkshire which had resulted in the deaths of 30 more muggles. Muggle baiting was getting worse and then there were the dementors. The dementors that Voldemort had set on the common public were roaming freely around and spreading depression and feeling of coldness among them. There had also been a few attacks on some of the iconic monuments of Britain which infuriated the muggle prime minister when Frank told him it was wizard attacks. He knew he was helpless. The Aurors were also trying to stem the damage which was caused but it was insufficient.
The Aurors weren't untouched either. Some of the newer and green recruits had found themselves going up against the more talented death eaters and had ended up dead. 10 more Aurors had died so far. A small child who tried to murder his whole family had been found to be under the imperious curse. A simple wizard who was a humble shop owner in one of the alleys adjacent to Diagon Alley had been taken to St. Mungo's after he had been taken down trying to kill Proudfoot and Savage who were patrolling the alley. The shopkeeper too was found to be under the imperious curse and currently was undergoing treatment. Apart from the dead, a lot of them were injured and had to be taken to St. Mungo's which had started to overflow.
Sirius, after a quick consultation with Harry, had opened up one of his properties situated somewhere near the Scottish border to use as an infirmary for the Aurors. 5 Healers and 10 trainee healers were always on duty in this new location. Every victim of the imperious curse and many of the Aurors who were otherwise injured in battle were being treated at this location. In a way, it was a secret infirmary. Only those who were directly involved knew anything about it at all.
The muggle born network did all they could to help the ministry. If they saw a lone death eater and they were sure they could take them down, they would even risk their lives in doing so. So far, 5 death eaters had been felled by some of those belonging to the muggle-born network. Mr. O'Neil was busy with their operations. Hestia's hearth had become a busy place due to the comings and goings of the wizards. They also worked as an information centre where one could leave messages if they couldn't reach the ministry otherwise.
In addition to that, attacks were starting all over Europe. In the last few days, remnants of Grindelwald's knights and followers had stirred a rebellion in France which led to the DMLE getting caught up in dealing with them. There had been a surprise attack in the Wizarding section of Paris. It had been a jolt to the wizarding world in France for they never expected the war to come to their doorstep again. They had thrown in every resource at their disposal while Monsieur Delacour was assigned the duty of recruiting and training a corps of about 60 wizards (Something that he had already done in secret in support of Harry's request starting last summer) who were to go and help Wizarding Britain on short notice. These men were already being kept on Battle ready status. They were instructed to only train and nothing else.
Several former students from Durmstrang Academy who turned out to be dark wizards in later life were seen leading their own little rebellions across the length and breadth of that part of Europe necessitating that they be dealt with by force. Madam Alexandrov, the head of DMLE in Bulgaria had been forced to use her secret force to crush this rebellion which had started in her country. As her men had been training for war, she had things under control. With the fires burning in his own home, the Bulgarian Minister had the sense to see the way forward for him. He had given free rein to Madam Alexandrov to deal with the rebellion and promised her all his support whenever Wizarding Britain asked for help. They still needed help though for the numbers were not in their favour.
There were similar incidents happening all across Europe. This led to magical governments across Europe getting engaged in dealing with them. The most shocking aspect of it all was that all the dark wizard groups claimed to be allied with Voldemort who was leading his own civil war in Wizarding Britain. The up side was that they were now all ready to help Wizarding Britain because they felt that the fire needed to be put out before it turned into a raging inferno.
The worst of it all perhaps was the fact that trouble had started brewing in Greece. Unconfirmed reports said that a single wizard was wreaking havoc through the country all on his own. Quite a few wizards had been killed trying to deal with him. It looked like the magical government was floundering as the people lost confidence in its ability to protect them.
Headmaster's Office - Hogwarts
Harry entered the Headmaster's office with a scowl on his face and a copy of The Daily Prophet in his hand, not for the first time this week. He slapped the paper down on the desk, standing over it, leaning on his knuckles, "Headmaster, We've got to do something! Just look at these headlines. There have been attacks all over Wizarding Britain and Europe, all in Tom's name."
The older man took a moment to stroke his beard before he responded, "Yes, Harry, I've seen the paper. Won't you sit down?" He indicated a chair, just behind where Harry stood.
Harry turned, grabbed the chair by the arms and pushed it back a couple of feet. He started pacing in front of Dumbledore's desk, "No thanks, Professor, I need to pace. They're going all-out, causing as much havoc as they can. People are dying. We've got to stop them."
Dumbledore steepled his hands as he looked over his half-moon spectacles at the young lord. It would be hard for anyone to believe that just a year ago, this young man was short for his age, skinny and wearing glasses. This young man looked like he could break a man in half with his bare hands now. And fight. Few, if any could match him in a duel. He spoke in his calm, reasonable tone, "Harry, you can't take them all on by yourself. You can hardly go popping all over Great Britain putting down attacks everywhere, never mind Europe."
Harry stopped pacing, pulled the chair up to the desk and sat down hard with his elbows on his knees, "no. Yes… I mean, you're right, of course. But, can't I at least take out some of these dementors? They're really bad for morale and the muggles can't even see them."
Dumbledore nodded slowly before answering, "Have you thought this through?"
Harry stared wide-eyed at the older man, "What do you mean? Nobody but me can take out those slimy soul-sucking fiends. What else is there to consider?"
Dumbledore pulled a bowl of lemon drops toward him from the corner of his desk and offered them to Harry. The young lord waved them off before Dumbledore popped one into his own mouth, "For one thing, they pop up, do their damage and disappear again. By the time anyone could summon you, it would be all over."
Harry nodded before Dumbledore continued, "… And, that ability of yours is, shall we say, not very common. It might be in your best interest to keep something like that as a surprise for when we really need it."
Harry bowed his head and shook it as if to deny what he was hearing, "Anything else I hadn't thought of?"
Dumbledore answered, "As a matter of fact, yes. You are leading these students, training them, vastly improving their chances in what must shortly come to pass. If you are running all over the country, trying to do the jobs of all the Aurors, not only will you be exhausted, but your friends will not benefit from your leadership."
Harry met the steady gaze of the leader of the Order of the Phoenix. This fellow was about as unflappable as a man could get. He was a veteran of two wars and still an important leader in the current conflict. Harry nodded firmly, "Alright then. We'll do it your way. But you must promise. If something comes up where I can make a difference, you must let me know."
To his credit, the old Headmaster did not hesitate to agree, "I can do that. But in return, I want you to keep on doing everything you can to prepare your friends."
Quidditch field
"Come on Harry!", yelled Angelina, "Pay attention! That's the third time that you barely dodged a Bludger. Looks like you can't even see it coming."
Harry sighed. His mind was still back in the meeting in the Headmaster's office instead of on the practice. With visions of death eaters, dementors and Tom Riddle before him, he wasn't on form at all. He shook his head to clear it, "Sorry Angelina, I was preoccupied. I promise to pay attention now."
He was as good as his word. For the rest of the practice, he had his head in the game, proving once again that he was the best seeker and the best flyer in the school. Not only did he neatly evade every Bludger that came his way, he also tracked down and caught the Snitch in less than five minutes, six times out of the ten that Angela released it.
By the end of the practice, Angelina was all smiles, "All right you lot, that'll have to do for now. Clear off and get to the showers."
Harry dismounted his broom and climbed the stands to join Susan. She had taken a seat there to watch her handsome, young man after the morning run.
As he approached, she stood and hugged him. After they had hugged for about a minute, they were interrupted by wolf whistles coming from the pitch. Fred George and a few others who hadn't quite left the pitch yet, had stopped to give Harry the gears, "Get a room.", Said Gred.
Forge rejoined, "Who's the man."
Susan blushed until her face matched her hair, but it didn't go any further. Angelina glared at the twins, "Don't you two have anything better to do?"
They shook their heads as one, "No, not really…"
But they both yelped and ran off as she zapped them mercilessly with stingers. Harry couldn't help but chuckle as he waved his thanks to the team captain.
Harry turned back to Susan, "They're right you know, snogging isn't a spectator sport. How about you and me take a walk down by the lake?"
She reached up to fist bump his shoulder playfully before taking his arm, "That sounds good to me."
As they walked arm-in-arm toward the lake, she asked him, "Harry, I have noticed lately that you seem so very anxious and tired. You need a really good break."
Harry allowed himself to sag as he let down his leader persona and let his real worry, care and near exhaustion show. It was no use trying to pretend before Susan, she could see right through him. He confirmed what she had observed, "The war is giving me a permanent headache. So many people are dying and suffering. It's awful, sue. And they all look to me to end it." He looked around the lake, where a well-worn path marked where the students had been doing their morning runs almost from the start of the school year, "We've all been training so hard. We're all better than any kids have a right to be and yet… How many more will have to die before we can stop one mad man. How many more of our friends, our family? Your parents, my parents. All are dead because of one maniac. I swear that if I could find him, I would…"
Susan wrapped herself around his arm and laid her head on his shoulder, "I have no doubt that you will, when the time comes.".
Harry turned to embrace her again, "That's just it. 'When the time comes'. On the one hand, more time to prepare. On the other, more time for innocent people to suffer. For me, the time can't come soon enough, but Dumbledore…"
Susan pulled back from him to look up into his face. She asked, "What about Dumbledore?"
He glanced up at the small tower where the Headmaster's office peeked out, "Dumbledore says the time will come soon enough. We can't rush it, nor can we delay."
Susan nodded, "Sounds like our Headmaster alright. Enough about him. What are we going to do about you?"
Harry looked at her for a moment, baffled, "Me? What about me?"
She reached up to pat his cheeks and re-arranged his face into a smile, "Remember? Tired, anxious, the weight of the world on your shoulders? You need a break. What are we going to do about that?"
He nodded, "Oh, that. I won't deny that I need a break. Even if it's only for a day or two. Any ideas where we could go? The borders are sealed and Sirius and Remus know about the Potter manor. We won't be able to have any quality time there with those two hanging around."
She batted her eyes coyly, "We? You mean you're inviting me to come with you? Ok, I accept. I have wondered what that wonderful lodge would look like in Springtime."
He asked, "What lodge?"
Her eyes sparkled to match her impish grin, "Surely you haven't forgotten? The Rosier hunting lodge where we had stayed for the night. The Easter holidays are coming up. We can go AWOL for a day or two there. I remember you told me that not everyone knows about its location so we would be safe from the death eaters and the ministry."
Harry grinned, "A nice plan, Sue. Instead of going to London for Easter, we will go to the lodge while others make their way to the train station. I will ask Dobby to furnish the place and stock it with supplies just in case. And promise me that we are not taking anyone else with us."
She smiled brightly, "Of course not. We will be taking no one else with us. But remember to inform them that we are taking a well deserved vacation, so that they won't go insane looking for us."
With their plans made, Harry took a deep breath and stood up straighter. Just having something besides drills, school work and constant training to look forward to seemed to have breathed new life into him. It was then that Harry recounted how hard he, the Aurors and all his friends had been working for nearly a year now. He had fought battles that quite literally landed him in the hospital wing with exhaustion more than once. The final battle wasn't far off and They'd best take a break before that time came. The serenity and quiet of the lodge with his lady by his side for a couple of days would be just what the healer ordered.
Unknown Castle
"Emmett", said Voldemort to the German, "trusting your word, I invoked help in Lord Abbadon's name. They have stirred up quite a lot of trouble across Europe. They are all busy now dealing with their own problems. I don't expect that any of them will leave their homes vulnerable to come and support Wizarding Britain when the time comes."
The German nodded, "Yes Dark Lord. That part of your plan seems to be having the desired effect. The time has come to implement the next phase."
Voldemort's lips curled up in a sneer as he played along with the master tactician pretending that this was all Voldemort's idea, "Yes, my plan is so brilliant and convoluted. Indulge me. What is the next phase of my plan?"
"Dark lord, as you may recall, I asked previously if you had a place for the final duel in mind. We will need to form strategies around it."
The old snake-faced wizard nodded, "yes, I intend for the battle to take place at Hogwarts".
He asked curiously, "Why Hogwarts?"
Voldemort let nothing show as he lied. One of his horcruxes was concealed there and he had to retrieve it. It would also be a devastating blow to that interfering old fool, Dumbledore. There could be no other place for the final battle. He told the German a partial truth, "Hogwarts is a sacred ground, Wagner. The castle has stood for centuries and has always worked as guardian of this nation. Attacking it and defeating the ministry there would leave no doubt as to my absolute right to rule."
He nodded, "Then we will need a comprehensive battle plan. To do that, we will need to know every detail of their defences and resources: a highly detailed map, ward schemes, fortifications, abilities of witches, wizards, magical creatures and anything else we can think of. Every single one of them must join us or face their demise, my lord."
Voldemort had to admit, he liked the way this man thinks. He nodded, "Very well. Many of my faithful were students there. Make it the work of my inner circle to pool all the information we have about the castle. In three days time, we will begin to create the battle plan."
Wagner didn't miss a beat. Surely three days was not enough to record every detail of such an ancient and vast place, but it would do for a start. He answered, "It will be my pleasure, my lord. I also want to know if you have another army."
"Another army? To what do you refer?"
The German patiently explained, "I have heard tales of your greatness and your formidable skills in the dark arts, my lord. Mr. Meyer told us that you mastered almost every dark art that Lord Abbadon taught you. And I have heard that you had an army of inferi at your disposal. I was curious if you still have it, my lord."
His mind went to the grotto where the locket of Slytherin, his locket lay hidden. He nodded, "Now that you mention it, I do have an army of inferi. I will see that they are in position before we launch our assault. Now how is the training of my followers coming?"
He did not hide his disgust, "They are both arrogant and undisciplined. There is some progress but they refuse to work at the drills and formations. It would seem that I do not command their respect."
There was a flash of red from deep within the dark lord's eyes as Wagner spoke. Although he knew that most of them were spoiled brats, born of privilege and would end up as nothing more than fodder for the Parasite spell when the time came, he needed as many alive as could be managed for that purpose. He answered, "It could be the dark mark."
Wagner asked, "The dark mark? What does that have to do with anything?"
Voldemort carefully explained, "You refuse the dark mark. As a matter of a magical oath, I have respected that. But without it, they see you as an outsider and consequently less than one of the faithful."
Wagner nodded, "You know your followers better than me. What can be done?"
Voldemort responded by pressing his wand to his dark mark, sending a summons to his followers to gather in the training grounds. He rose from his seat and headed outside. As he went he ordered Wagner, "come with me. I shall attend to this." He spotted the back of Malfoy who had been loitering outside of the inner chamber and was now several paces ahead of him. The other death eaters were similarly hastening to the meeting place. The Germans, out of curiosity followed them.
A minute later, Voldemort stood before the assembly.
He applied the Sonerous spell to make himself heard, even if he only whispered, "I have heard that many of you are being less than diligent with your training." He paused and looked around at his followers, looking for one who was showing disdain toward the Germans. He intoned, "Crucio!", as the one he chose crumbled to the ground in agony. After he had made his point, he lifted the spell and continued, "I am displeased with your lack of progress. These men", he indicated the Germans, with some emphasis on Wagner, "have come a long way, at great risk to themselves, to improve your combat skills. I trust that you will all give them your full cooperation." With that, he ended the Sonerous spell and turned to Wagner, "I expect things will go better now. Keep training them and train them hard. We may not have much time left before the final battle. Now I am leaving to run some errands. In my absence, you will be responsible for everything in the castle."
Wagner nodded, "If my lord does not presume it too forward, may I suggest setting loose some of your werewolves upon the wizarding world and the muggles alike. They need the taste of battle and combat and shielding them wouldn't help us."
Voldemort nodded, "Do as you see fit. You do not need their permission but inform Rodolphus and Rabbastan before you do anything."
He bowed, "As you wish, my lord."
Voldemort was finally going to check on his horcruxes. He knew his protections were formidable but he couldn't risk taking any chances. As Abbadon had said, "there is no magic in the world which cannot be unravelled."
Africa
Harsh was sitting in council with two of his mystics. These two were among his favourite pupils and their current assignment made them responsible for the security of Europe. When the dark wizards started their attacks around the continent, they had sought him out in Africa. It wouldn't do for them to stay idle when people were dying all around them.
Burgove, as he was known, was saying, "Guruji, there have been dark wizard attacks throughout the length and breadth of the continent. People are dying. From what I could gather from the few of those that we captured alive, Voldemort has called upon them to stir up trouble around the entire continent so that no one will go to help Wizarding Britain when the final battle comes."
The other one, Makrand said, "And it will not do for us to sit idle, guruji. This is our duty. This is what you have always taught us. We seek your permission to launch a counter assault against them because the countries by themselves can't suppress these rebellions."
Harsh who was listening to everything with grim expressions, said, "Vats, I have never stopped you from doing your duty. You know our rules. We shall not come in public nor should anyone know about us. Working within those restrictions, you are free to take any action you see as just and fair. You are free to crush those rebels and restore the order in the places where it is happening. You don't even need my permission for that. Direct everyone to launch their operations as they would seem right but don't engage the mage in Greece."
Makrand asked, "But why Guruji?"
"Because he is my nemesis. Our final confrontation has been long since due. While you suppress these rebellions, I will fight him. Go and be victorious, children. I will go and fight him. If mother magic be willing, we will see each other someday again."
With that they left and he called, "Martand."
Martand entered the room about a minute later, "Yes Guruji."
"Martand, please see to it that my trunk is prepared. I am leaving on a very urgent errand to Greece. You are in charge here until I can return. If I don't return in a month then know that I have returned to the folds of mother magic. Contact Adrishpuram then and have Varah Mihir appoint the next lord of the mystics."
The mystic looked as if he was crafted out of stone and he nodded curtly, "as you wish, Guruji."
As the mystic was leaving, Harsh said, "You have served me like a son for all these years. When I return, I will see if I can do some justice to these selfless services that you rendered to me."
As Martand left, the mystic called another name, "Himwat"
Himwat, the mystic in-charge in Wizarding Britain came in, bowed to him touching his feet, "Pranam Guruji."
"Ayushman Bhav, Vats", Harsh blessed him. After the mystic had taken a seat, he asked, "How are the conditions in Wizarding Britain?"
"Guruji, the fiends called Dementors have been let loose. Death eaters are conducting single raids and the ministry finds it hard to combat every such instance. They are fighting but they are taking losses. I wouldn't be worried if they were fighting wizards but they are fighting helpless muggles and that is what angers me. I wish we could do something about it."
Harsh nodded, "We can't let muggles be collateral damage in this war, vats. I allow you to use your mystics to combat the death eaters where you see them but you are not to kill any of them. Chase them away, scare them but don't go killing them. Send your best men to deal with the Dementors. They can't kill them but they can chase them away from the muggles. And remember to send obliviators with them. I don't want our secret existence to be compromised."
The mystic beamed, "I will do as you say, Guruji."
Harsh's words had taken a load off him. He was itching to fight and save the muggles but so far they hadn't been allowed. Now at least the muggles wouldn't die.
The Spy
A faction of students who belonged to the dark faction was meeting in the serpent's pit. These students belonged to families which were serving Voldemort or were secretly helping to advance his cause. Since a bunch of students had been expelled from the school, the wind had been taken out of their sails and they were literally shoved to the side. In fact, even in their own house, people stayed well away from them so as not to raise suspicions and to avoid getting into trouble. They knew of those who were openly aligned with Harold Peverell but they could do nothing about it. The castle was the stronghold of the light for now with Albus Dumbledore as the headmaster. However, they were biding their time to wait for the perfect opportunity to serve their master, the dark lord.
These students opposed everything that those aligned to light tried to do in the serpent's pit and their efforts were spearheaded by the trio of Dryden, Everly and Jugson. Whatever anyone planned, it was bound to lead back to them. They were very meticulous in planning and even helped others in execution of their plans. It was the misfortune of the dark side that their attempts were wasted every time they tried to do something.
Shortly after the battle of Hogsmeade, they had tried to grievously injure Conrad Du Vant. They had planned a series of wards which were meant to injure the boy fatally and without timely help, he would have succumbed to his injuries but to their woe, Conrad had found out about it. In retribution, he pranked the hell out of the lot of them. Since then they hadn't tried anything again. This time however, one of their numbers had received a message from the outside which told them to spy on Harold Peverell and everyone he consorted with. For most of the day, the said boy was with his girl friend, Susan Bones and at times with other friends. He usually disappeared in the dead of night but where or how, they didn't know. They had tried to follow him at times but he knew so many hidden passages and short cuts in the castle that it was impossible to keep track of him at all times. What they did know was that he was going to Dumbledore's office more than could be considered normal. Lately, he was seen in the hospital wing far more than his share.
One evening, Graham Montague cornered three of his housemates namely Everly, Dryden and Ares Roper. When he had them secluded in his dorm he started talking to them, "as you all have expressed your desire to serve the dark lord time and again, one such chance has arrived."
Everly and Dryden were alert at once and intently listened to whatever Montague was saying, "My uncle, who was blasted off the family tree to fool the world, sent me a letter last night. It was sent in the name of my father. In his letter Uncle has asked me to put spies on the tails of a few people in the castle."
Dryden asked him, "whose tails?"
"He wants us to keep an eye on Harold Peverell, Neville Longbottom and the new defense teacher. And the dark lord wants us to learn as much as we can, from the defense teacher. He also wants us to form a group of students who would willingly die for him in case there is an invasion of the castle and the ministry leads a fight against them."
This plan got Dryden and Everly worried. Voldemort was playing a dangerous game and if there was a force inside the castle which could thwart the ministry's attempts at resisting Voldemort and his forces, it would be highly prejudicial to them.
Everly asked him, "What's in it for us, Montague?"
Montague barked, "You get to serve the Dark Lord and yet you seek some reward, Everly?"
Everly sneered, "A Slytherin doesn't do anything without any kind of gain in it for them, Montague. That is one of the first things about being a Slytherin. If you want a selfless wizard, you should rather ask a lion or a puff."
Montague sneered in return, "I wouldn't ask one of them to help me even if I was dying, Everly. Now, my uncle has told me that the Dark Lord said that he would brand us as his loyal followers if we did this service to him. When he wins the war, we will have our pick of the spoil to choose from."
Roper interrupted, "What makes you think that he will win, Montague? As we have seen, Peverell and the Dark Lord have clashed twice since he returned to a body. Both times, the Dark Lord had to retreat."
"You doubt his prowess, Roper? He didn't retreat out of fear but it was strategic. They were not fighting a straight duel with him but ambushed him. With all of his followers dead, he had only one way out. He had to retreat before they could overwhelm him. He will avenge everyone who has been killed by the ministry since the second war began."
Everly asked him, "So how do you propose to spy on Peverell or the others? I mean we have classes to go to, study for our NEWTs and then we have to worry about our future jobs."
"When the Dark Lord rules, we will have our pick, Everly. Help me and I will make sure that the Dark Lord knows of our services to him when it is time so that you can be sufficiently rewarded. I have convinced a few other students who will keep an eye on their designated persons. Soon we will have some useful news to share with the dark lord."
Dryden asked, "And what about that group of students?"
Montague grinned, "I have seen to it. I have a group of students who will willingly follow me into serving the dark lord. We have been learning curses and hexes from the new Professor since the year began and we believe ourselves to be quite proficient. Trust me that when the battle comes, we will give the light side a run for its money."
This was unexpected for them. They would have to inform their liege lord and do it fast. However they would have to tell him to be discrete and not do anything which would have their cover blown. Apart from the two of them, only Roper and Montague knew everything. If someone not privy to their meeting knew about it then it would lead to them being exposed as traitors or spies.
Roper asked, "So when do we start?"
The Auror office
Moody walked into his interrogation chamber which had been redecorated a few days ago. He had asked his men to paint the walls in just the right combination of reds and browns to make it appear that they were spattered with blood to present a gruesome sight to any new prisoner. There were also three humongous jars containing the bodies of three well-known dead death eaters preserved in formaldehyde (they were really wax figures in coloured water, but the prisoners didn't need to know that). One was Bellatrix Lestrange as she looked at her moment of death, her eyes spread in terror, the spell in the middle of her chest, and her arms stretched in helplessness. Another one looked like the recently killed Macnair. The third jar seemed to only contain fragments of what might have been Peter Pettigrew, a grim reminder of the price for treachery.
The pet that Moody had brought from Azkaban was in the torture chamber awaiting his pleasure. He had plenty of time to take in his surroundings in the dim light before Moody came to attend to him. The Master Auror had been too caught up in his duties to be able to interrogate him personally. Robards had interrogated him in another chamber where he was not subjected to face Moody's techniques of interrogation.
As the lights turned on, the captive flinched at the sight of the life-sized bodies in liquid. They looked so real to him that he lost control over his bladder. Whoever did this to the renowned death eaters would not even spare a thought before killing him ruthlessly. Then his gaze moved to Moody who stood at the door, casually leaning on his staff with a feral grin on his face. He was filled with despair at his impending doom.
"Charming, aren't they?", Moody growled, "The ministry allowed me to keep these trophies, ya know? I love looking at them and feeling satisfaction at the thought that they were put down like the rabid dogs they were. The same fate awaits your dark lord. I tell ya lad that I will cheerfully duel anyone to get the chance to add his severed head to my trophy collection in my office."
The death eater was feeling repulsed and a little sick with all of Moody's talk, but to his credit, said defiantly, "So what? You will kill me? Do that. I will not give you the satisfaction to see me broken."
Moody grinned, "It matters very little to me whether you break or not. Ya see, I enjoy my work. They're all like you in the beginning, all tough and brave and 'You'll never break me.' But in the end, when you're screaming, begging me to end it, crying for your Mommy, telling me everything I want to know, just to make it stop, you won't even know that it's you doing the talking. I had one tough guy last for hours, but he told me everything he knew before he bled out."
"No", he said defiantly, "For I will be dead and you will have nothing." taking a leaf out of the muggle's books, they kept a poison capsule in their hollow teeth. He went to swallow the cyanide capsule that was concealed in one of his back teeth, but found only a void there.
Moody's face twisted into a nasty grin, "Missing something?", as he held up the capsule. "Clever, using muggle poison in case of capture, but we found it. Besides, what do you want to die for?", he said in a reasonable tone, "You have no dark mark. You are German. What loyalty do you owe to old Tom anyway?"
The prisoner considered for a moment, but held his peace. He was a mercenary. If word ever got out that he betrayed an employer, he would never work again. It was just as likely that his own dark lord would make an example of him for allowing himself to be captured. No, there was no way forward. Just him, this room and his torturer. The German gritted his teeth, bracing for whatever was going to come. He was a hardened veteran and had quite the experience with dark magic. He knew the best Moody could hope for was using the torture curses and that he would break down. If Moody thought that way then he was in for a surprise. What the helpless soul didn't know was that Moody had no intention to use magic to torture him. But he would soon learn.
Moody ripped open his left sleeve and pointed at the bare patch of skin there, "Why is there no dark mark on your arm? How can he take a risk using you but not marking you?"
When the death eater didn't deign to reply, Moody picked up an instrument from his torture rack which looked like a pair of muggle pliers. Waving it in his face, Moody said grimly, "Ya know the muggles don't have magic to treat their ailments? If they have a problem with their teeth, they have to go to a muggle doctor who pulls out their teeth with an instrument like this one. I am told it hurts like hell without some medication to numb the pain. I'm very curious to see what that pain would look like to a wizard."
The captive's pupil spread in terror at the thought of what was about to come. He clamped his mouth firmly shut not allowing Moody to carry out his nefarious plan. When Moody was frustrated with the German's refusal to comply, he punched him hard on the jaw with his fist. A crack sounded and the captive's mouth fell open. Moody didn't hesitate to shove a block of wood in his mouth so it would remain open. After making sure that the piece of wood was properly wedged in place, he put the plier on one of his front teeth and pulled. The teeth remained firm but the prisoner grunted with the pain. He could already feel his jaw muscles spasming as his jaw was forced open beyond its normal range.
Grinning, the old Auror tapped the tool against the prisoner's teeth, "Good teeth. Do they put fluoride in the water where you come from? No matter, I'm sure we can do better." He applied the tool to the same tooth again. With a twist and a firm tug, the incisor came away with a trickle of blood. The prisoner screamed with pain as his torturer held up the tooth in front of him. Happy with his success, he went on to pull three more teeth. By this time, the prisoner's thrashings and screams were beginning to trail off. Moody could see that the man was very pale and that the eyes were beginning to roll up in his head.
Moody poured a blood regenerating draught down the man's throat and enervated him, "Oh no, you don't get to pass out. Not until I'm done with you."
The German came back to full consciousness and his struggles to break loose were renewed.
Moody observed, "That's better. Ya know, this wouldn't go so hard on you if you weren't wasting your energy on trying to be brave. Are you ready to talk now? I really hope you're not. I have so many more things I want to try out on you. I think I'll try breaking a few bones the muggle way next. So, what do you say?"
In his restraints, the prisoner shook his head as much as he could.
Now, Moody seemed eager to get on with it. He put the pliers back and picked up a heavy hammer with one round end and one flat end. He held it up before his prisoner, "Do you know what this is? The muggles call it a ball-peen hammer. I understand that it's proper use is for making gaskets, whatever a gasket is. More important to you is that this is an implement of choice for criminals or goons who are known as mob enforcers or something like that. Let's see how it works, shall we?"
With that, he tapped the round end of the hammer head on one of the prisoner's knee caps, whose eyes watered with renewed pain. Moody said, "Ya brought this on yourself." In a flash of movement, Moody wound up and with two swift strikes, shattered both the man's kneecaps. The prisoner's entire world turned scarlet with pain as his muscles spasmed in reaction, tearing the shattered pieces apart. His mind fled and the room filled with the wailing of a wounded animal.
When he came back to himself, there was so much pain that he couldn't seem to catch his breath. The wooden block was gone from his mouth and his lower jaw still ached where his missing teeth had been, but that was nothing. What was trying to tare his legs off? Everything from his hips down was one massive muscle spasm and the pain would not stop. His throat felt like he'd been screaming for an hour at least.
Moody looked at him with clinical curiosity, "There you are. Seems that the hammer did an adequate job. Are you ready to talk yet?"
The German, still defiant, realized that his mouth was free and spat in the Auror's face. Moody didn't even bother to wipe the mixture of blood and spittle from his face. That maddening grin didn't even waver, "Oh, good. Ya still have some fight in ya? What will I get to use next?"
That was when Dobby appeared in the room, yelling at the top of his voice, "The great Harry Potter wanting to meet you, Master Moody."
Moody said dismissively, "Can't you see that I'm busy, elf. I will visit the lad later."
It was no use. Dobby had his orders. He lunged for Moody, grabbing his hand and they disappeared. The German mercenary would have a reprieve to feel his injuries while the Auror was away to take care of other business. It didn't much matter. With both knee caps shattered and the best magical restraints the Master Auror could devise, he would still be here When Moody came back to finish the interrogation.
Dung, you stink!
It was well past curfew. Harry was in the Chamber of Secrets with Vikram , practicing spell casting. Vikram was sitting to one side, watching him. Occasionally he would point out if he felt something was missing or something could be done in a better way but for the most part, he kept quiet, watching Harry in action.
There was a loud crack as the bodies of three elves and a wizard appeared in a tangle of limbs and rope on the chamber floor. Without any apparent transition, Vikram was on his feet with his wand out, pointed at the intruders. He asked sternly, "What is this happening?"
Kreacher was wrapped around Mundungus' head obscuring his vision while Dobby and Matty had him by the legs. Dung was tied up with what appeared to be ropes. He was still struggling and swearing a blue streak, threatening the elves with multiple forms of death if they didn't get off of him.
Harry had to shut down the practice dummies before he could give the arrivals his full attention. He turned to the group and said, "Dobby, Kreacher, Matty, you have done well. Now stand aside and I will deal with him."
As the elves let go, Harry vanished the ropes binding Mundungus. The thief was up in a moment, wand in hand, pointing it at Harry. It was clear that he was afraid because his hand was shaking and he couldn't keep his voice steady. "What is the meaning of this?"
Harry, who still hadn't levelled his wand at the thief, said calmly, "For starters, Dung, I'll thank you for not abusing my elves in that manner. They were acting under my orders. Secondly, they have brought you before me to be judged of your crime."
Mundungus spluttered, trying to bluff his way out of it, "What? You? What crime? You have no right! I'm in the Order of the Phoenix. Dumbledore will…"
Harry interrupted the thief mid-sentence, "Albus Dumbledore has confirmed my claim on you. He will be of no help to you whatsoever."
Not knowing where he was, Dung turned on his heel, trying to disapparate. The resulting backlash from the mighty war wards of Hogwarts knocked him to the floor with a bloody nose. The older man slowly gathered himself up and raised himself from the floor, his wand still in his hand, he continued to point it at Harry, but not with much conviction.
Harry nodded in satisfaction, "Oh no, you waste of space, you won't be getting out that way."
Dung turned desperately to Vikram, "Won't you stop him? He's mad I tell you."
The Mystic simply continued to look on impassively.
Finally, hoping to stall for time, the thief continued looking for a way out as he asked with feigned innocence, "What Crime? What 'ave I ever done to you 'Arry?"
Harry responded formally, "Mundungus Fletcher, for the crime of murdering Sturgis Podmore, a man who was your friend of more than 17 years, your cohort in battle, a member of The Order of the Phoenix and under my protection by reason of participating in a blood war declared by me as Lord Peverell, you are brought before me to stand and be judged. Your crime was witnessed and reported to me by two members of the ministry Auror force in that you did willingly and with forethought, place your companion deliberately in the path of The Killing Curse to save your own worthless hide. I have heard the specifications and am completely satisfied that you are guilty. Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pronounce sentence?"
Dung spluttered nervously, "There were so many of them. I didn't know help was on the way. I saw the killing curse coming and freaked out. I had no choice, You've got to understand."
Harry started to let his agitation show as his magic crackled in a black aura around him, "No choice? You had lots of choices: you could have blocked, you could have disapparated, you could have summoned an object to block it, you could have laid down your own life. I'm sure I can come up with more. Anything would have been better than what you did! That's what I understand."
Mundungus tried spluttering some more, "You can't judge me. At the very least, you have to take me to the Tribunal. This…"
Harry interrupted him again, "By laws older than Great Britain herself, I have the right. By the grace of Mother Magic I am the lord to several of the ancient blood lines. By prophecy, I am the chosen one. And by oath, I am the leader in this blood war. You killed one who is under my protection and by the Law of Mother Magic, you will answer to me. You must answer for your crime. You have ended the life of your friend. Life must answer for life. Yours is forfeit."
Dung stammered, "Forfeit? You mean? No, you can't. You can't just kill me. You…"
Harry smirked with grim satisfaction, "That's the first thing you've managed to get right all night, Dun. I can't just kill you. Because of a boon I granted to the Headmaster, I have to turn you over to a certain Alastor Moody… alive."
The old thief began to breathe a sigh of relief before Harry continued, "I will, of course, honour that boon, but, who's to say how it happened if you somehow get injured in transit?"
Defiantly, the old thief tried one more time, "No. You can't just pass judgement on me like that. There are laws. I didn't cast the spell that killed him."
Harry nodded grimly, "Yes, there are laws. You maintain your innocence? Very well, by those laws, you may claim the right of trial by combat. I accept. Let's see if you know how to use that stick dangling from your greasy paw." Harry recalled his duel with Malfoy all those months ago. Things weren't going to go so easily for this worthless sack of entrails. Harry still stood, his wand not quite pointing at the other wizard.
That was when Dung remembered the wand in his hand which he still had pointed at the war-mage. He started by trying to cast a stunner. Harry casually caught the spell on his wand and flicked it back as a bone breaker. Mundungus yelped as the spell fractured his left shoulder. Other than the slightest movement of his wand, Harry hadn't even twitched. The older man tried to cover his next movement with a cloud of smoke. By the time he cast his next spell, Harry was already behind him. Dung received a bludgeoner to the back of his head as his bone breaker passed harmlessly through the space where Harry had been standing a second ago. The knock-back sent the older wizard sprawling on his face when the back of his head absorbed the impact.
Before the smoke cloud dissipated, Harry was standing back where he had been. For the second time, Dung picked himself up off the floor. It was a lot harder to do with his fractured shoulder. Harry stood motionless as he watched the sack of rags trying to right itself. There was an audible crack as the fracture in Dung's shoulder dislocated.
But it wasn't over. Not yet. The old man knew he had to beat Harry or die. He rolled to one side and pushed up to his knees then rose to his feet again, the wand still pointing defiantly at Harry, "I know I have no chance. There's no point begging for mercy. I'm a coward. I killed my friend. This is nothing personal."
The thief launched desperately into a series of curses that he piled on as fast as he could cast. Some of them were quite nasty. In response, Harry neatly side-stepped some, caught others, sending them back, mostly at Dung's face and crotch, blocking two of them with conjured flocks of canaries and he even shielded against one. The duel went on for nearly 20 minutes and Harry had yet to cast so much as one offensive spell. He was cool, calm and nearly motionless. On the other side, Dung was drenched with sweat, covered with bruises, bleeding from several wounds, wheezing for breath and his left arm dangled uselessly at his side. His face was an unrecognizable mass of ground hamburger and he was certainly walking funny.
Keeping one eye on the treacherous thief, Harry affected a large yawn. He said, "Well, Dung, it's well past my bed-time. I guess I'd better end this." Dung's eyes went wide as Harry raised his wand in earnest. With a blast like a muggle fire-hose, Harry hit the smelly, ragged old thief with the biggest Terego anyone in the room had ever seen. The old thief went down in a heap, spluttering for air, rolling over and over until he hit the wall. Harry used summoning to remove everything Dung had concealed in his rags and placed them one after another in a sack. To top it off, he transmuted the old thief's rags into a prisoner uniform from Azkaban. He stopped the bleeding from several wounds, just to make sure that his prisoner didn't bleed out before he could face moody, then gently, ever so gently, zapped him in the head with a stunner. Afterall, a man's got to get his rest.
Nodding in satisfaction at his work, he said, "Dobby, go and bring Master Auror Alastor Moody here. Tell him that I need to see him and drag him by his arm if you have to, but bring him here." To the other two elves he said, "Thank-you. You have done well. Please return to your regular duties."
Dobby bobbed his head quickly and vanished with a loud crack. The other two elves vanished a moment later.
Vikram looked at the pathetic heap in the corner, "You showed remarkable restraint, Harry."
Harry, remembering that Vikram had been there the whole time, shook his head, "No, Professor, I didn't. If I had cast any kind of offensive spell at him in the condition I'm in, it would have killed him."
Vikram raised an eyebrow in inquiry, "What do you mean?"
Harry gestured at the condemned man, "You saw that Terego. If that had even been a stunner… In any case, I promised Dumbledore I would turn him over to Moody alive. I keep my promises."
A loud crack announced the arrival of Dobby with Moody in tow.
Alastor spotted Harry, "What's all this? I was interrogatin' a prisoner."
Harry took in the scarred face, missing half its nose, the gruff tone, the constantly moving bright-blue eye. The man wasn't carrying his staff and he had a hammer in one hand. Harry nodded, "Welcome to the Chamber of Secrets, Master Auror. I have someone here who is eager to meet you."
Moody looked at Vikram and said, "Him? We've met. Why couldn't this have waited 'til morning?"
Harry shook his head and pointed at the pathetic heap wheezing in the corner, "That", he said with the tone of absolute contempt, "is someone that you've been looking for. Take your prisoner and go."
Moody looked, noticing Mundungus for the first time, "Where did you get that uniform? Where's he been? How did you find…"
Harry's eyes narrowed, "The uniform was something I whipped up. As for the rest, you can take all the time you want to find that out. I promised Dumbledore that I would deliver him to you alive. He's alive. But I remind you that his life is forfeit. By the ancient laws, I require that you do your part when you are done with him."
Moody walked over and crouched down by Mundungus. With the expert eye of the experienced "interrogator", he appraised the condition of his new charge, "He's been worked over pretty good. In this condition, 'e might not survive a trip through the floo or disapparation.". He stood up and turned back to Harry, "Do ya want me to take 'im anyway?"
Harry handed the bag full of Dung's personal affects over to Moody. Without a word, he walked over to the prisoner. Applying some of what Charak had taught him, it took him about two minutes to mend the ribs so the man wouldn't get a punctured lung from moving around. With a few more gestures, the man was strapped into a stretcher. Harry grunted, "He'll live long enough to see the inside of your office." He turned to Dobby, take these two men where ever Master Moody says. When you are done, you may return to your regular duties."
Moody turned to Harry, "Don't worry, Lad. He'll get all the justice that's coming to him." He addressed Dobby next, "Take us to my safe-house in Hastings."
The elf took Moody by one hand while taking hold of the stretcher with the other hand. With another loud crack, the chamber was a lot more empty.
We have a spy problem
They were sitting at the Hufflepuff table for breakfast when Hermione casually said, "Am I the only one who feels that I'm being watched lately? It seems that someone has been trying to figure out my movements."
Terry nodded, "Now that you mention it, I could swear that people have been following me too. Even when I go to the boy's bathroom, I feel like people are keeping an eye on me."
Mandy said, "What's that all about? It's eerie. I thought the pervs were just ogling me all the time. I can feel what it means to be the boy who lived with people watching you every second."
Harry grinned, "Thanks for the understanding, Mandy. You are all correct. We have a spy problem and they aren't very subtle."
"Spy problem?", Justin asked, "What does that mean?"
Daphne answered, "Some of the snakes are watching us at all times. They think they are really crafty but they are clumsy and obvious. There are usually two of them following me. I can spot them any time. If they were allowed, they would even follow me into the dorms."
Susan nodded, "I even had two follow me to where the secret entrance to the chamber lies. I left a packet of dungbombs for them in a fake doorway. It wasn't pretty for them."
Daphne grinned in appreciation, "That was a nice trick. So what are we going to do now?
Harry said simply, "We do nothing to show that we know. Let them follow us all day. Waste as much of their time as you can manage. If you want, you can take them on a tour of the castle. They can't get in the chamber so we are safe. You only need to watch your mouth and don't speak about anything confidential."
Farther down from them, Ernie was still sitting alone at the table, eating his breakfast when Astoria slipped in beside him, "You are making me lose money, Macmillan."
"What do you mean, Greengrass?", he asked tersely.
"I have told you to call me Astoria, Ernie", she cooed, "And please, stop brooding. People are mulling over naming you as Ernie "Brooding" Macmillan."
Ernie scoffed, "Can't you leave me in peace?"
She shook her head, "Not when you are costing me 10 Galleons a day."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, since there are no other betting pools right now, people are betting on when you will get over your brooding. I keep losing because you refuse to move on."
He said curtly, "Do you think that it's easy to move on, Greengrass?"
She smiled, "Of course, it is. I know nothing can compensate for Lilith's loss in your life but she wouldn't want you to sulk for her. She would want you to smile and live for her. Fight and avenge her. You have secluded yourself from your friends when this is the time we all need our friends the most. Is that how you will help Harold Peverell slay Tom Riddle? How will a Macmillan fulfil his duty to a Potter?"
Ernie sighed, "Let's make a deal, Greengrass. You don't pester me and I will try to get over my brooding, as you say. Deal?"
She grinned, "Only if you promise to not shoo me away every time you see me."
Greece
The captain of Aurors shouted at the mage whom they had finally cornered somewhere near Athens after he had just killed an entire company of Aurors, "Put down your wand and surrender to us."
The mage was some powerful being for he had killed about 40 Aurors in just the last week and about 60 muggles. The Aurors were baffled because there was no record of his existence prior to this time and nobody seemed to know anything about him. In fact, there had been no dark lord in Greece for the last 50 years so this sudden disruption of peace was a wake-up call they needed.
They had tried to corner the mage at various places but had only lost Aurors to him so they had sent their best Aurors to tackle this menace now. Now that the captain of the guards saw the mage, he was surprised. He hardly looked a day above 50 and it was hard to believe that someone with such a common face could be so destructive. It was the absurdity of the appearance that he had chosen to ask him to surrender rather than outright killing him.
The mage however did not reply but thrust his wand forward and said an inaudible incantation. Nothing seemed to happen for a minute when suddenly the weather changed. The air felt acidic to them. They could feel that they were bathed with acid and boils started developing on the exposed parts of their bodies. Not one of them was untouched and their wands clattered out of their hands, cries of agony going out everywhere around them. The captain of guards knew it was a mistake to have wasted any time waiting for the mage to surrender. Now they were going to die.
Well, he wasn't going to die alone. A barrage of lethal curses erupted from his wand in a steady stream. He wasn't the captain for nothing. A barrage like that would have vaporized any ordinary wizard. But the other wizard simply flicked them all aside with his wand. He felt a boil on his face rapidly swell up then erupt with acid pouring out of it making him hiss in pain. He had decided that he would die but he won't cry and give his enemy any vindictive feeling about having bested them. He could feel his heart slowing down and the air became considerably cooler but the boils! The boils were gone. The deep seated burning sensation remained but was ebbing away slowly.
He realised that someone else had arrived on the scene and had countered the spell which had been giving them a slow painful agonizing death. The newcomer looked like an ordinary bloke dressed in what he recognised was Dhoti, an Indian dress, dragon hide boots and his upper body was covered with what appeared to be armour made of dragon skin. His face was covered with a leather mask and only his brown eyes could be seen which looked full of anger. He had an unusual looking wand in his hand which he held carelessly at his side but his posture told that he was ready for a duel at any moment.
All of the Aurors under his command had lost consciousness by then leaving only him awake to see what was going on. The newcomer was saying, "We meet again, Abbadon."
Harsh had arrived with some of his chosen mystics in Greece. These were his men who lived in seclusion but were as powerful as Vari or Harsh himself. They did whatever Harsh asked them but they never involved themselves in daily ordinary mundane affairs. He had called on them because he knew that the affair with Abbadon would require them at his side. Cornering him was essential for them and only mystics such as them could hope to stand up to him to be able to do what was needed of them.
When he arrived, his local mystics had told him what they had been able to gather on Abbadon's position. Before getting Harsh's orders, they had sent a company of mystics against Abbadon but he had killed all of them as easily as walking in the garden. That was when they realised that Abbadon was way outside their league. Then they kept track of Abbadon's movements while they waited for Harsh to arrive for they knew he would not stay back if his men were dying.
They kept tracking him and found him in Athens as he was passing through the city. He didn't seem to have any fixed destination in mind or a plan. It seemed as if he was only causing chaos and destruction in his wake without purpose for all the violence. Harsh knew it was an invitation to a duel between them. After nearly 100 years in hiding, the ancient dark master had decided to call Harsh out.
This morning, his mystics informed him that the local Aurors had planned an ambush to trap him and kill him. Harsh had frowned at the proposed plan of the DMLE. Those idiots didn't know that they were playing with fire. Abbadon would willingly walk into whatever trap they had set, kill all of them and be gone. He made haste to reach where the duel was to happen but he was too late. Abbadon had cast a lethal curse which would kill the Aurors in pain and agony and it would require a lot of his skill to save them. Motioning for his men to cast with him, they had cast the counter for that curse which helped save the Auror's lives. As was the standard procedure, as soon as they were done countering the curse, half of his mystics got on the task of moving the unconscious Aurors away from the battle. Harsh waved his wand in an arc as the mystic symbol erupted out of it before Abbadon.
The features of the old necromancer's face twisted into a feral snarl, "Harsh my friend", drawled the mage, "What a pleasant surprise. I find it refreshing that you found the courage to come out and face me after 100 years."
Harsh chuckled, "Your memory has been failing you, Abbadon. Last time we met, you ran like a dog with its tail tucked between its legs. Have you also forgotten how you got that scar on your arm? It was my parting gift to you."
Out of habit, Abbadon rubbed the old scar, "How can I forget it? I have waited for the perfect opportunity to even the score with you. Here I will slay you and my heir, Voldemort will kill your champion in Wizarding Britain."
Harsh chuckled, "Your pupil can't find his way out of a paper bag. The fool made horcruxes to escape death! If I knew their position, I would have destroyed them years ago."
Abbadon mentally face-palmed himself. Why did he never explore the possibility that Tom's secret might have been known to the mystics? They were sure to know everything that happened in the wizarding world. Even if they didn't then Varah Mihir could tell them. If he escaped today, he promised to find Voldemort and slap the daylights out of him for being such a fool.
Harsh was saying, "You do realise that this is our final duel, Abbadon? You almost destroyed our Order despite us making you an equal. Blood of those mystics lies on your hands who fell by your hand. Today they will be avenged."
Without saying a word, Abbadon sent a yellow coloured curse at Harsh who flicked it aside. The captain who was watching the duel crawled behind a big oak tree so that he would be protected from the spells which were flying freely around. He was also fascinated by these individuals. Once when he was on deputation to the ICW for training, he had heard the name Abbadon. He had not been able to find out anything more about it except that he was some sort of necromancer mage and that he was sort of master of every Dark Lord in last few centuries. One of the men at ICW had also spoken about mystics as some sort of secret order which still had an army. He had dismissed those as rumours but now he was forced to reconsider his opinions. If the things he heard were true then these two were magical juggernauts and he was an ordinary mortal caught between them. They wouldn't care if they somehow trampled him under their feet. Yet he was fascinated for the spells were being cast inaudibly and neither of them were using shields at all.
Abbadon, who had seen his first spell go to waste, sent a bolt of fire at Harsh immediately followed by a fire whip but Harsh merely slashed his wand upwards cutting the whip into two. He was yet to cast but allowed Abbadon to use as much of his energy as he could. When he was tired, it would be easier to take him down. Unknown to Abbadon, the group of mystics had already removed the Aurors from the scene of battle except for the captain. He was still conscious and they didn't want him to be aware of their presence. As they secured everyone, the other half of their group was laying down wards in a radius of 1 kilometre around them. This way Abbadon wouldn't be able to escape. He had never learnt to go beyond anti apparition wards.
Abbadon sent a wave of fire at Harsh who conjured a humongous wave of water to douse it off. As he was done doing that, Abbadon sent a barrage of lightning bolts at him at which he simply disapparated to appear at a different place than where he had been. At times, he would even take cover behind a tree and the tree would take the brunt of the spell. A rather nasty spell felled one of the tall slender trees, which was falling on Harsh who banished it towards Abbadon. Abbadon, thrusting his wand forward, created a giant shredder which shredded the tall tree to chips of wood in moments and he escaped most dangerous attacks.
After he had escaped the tree attack, he waved his wand in a wide arc, collecting all the shredded pieces in a tall spire of wood which was animated to attack Harsh. As it rushed at Harsh, he flew to the top of it and cast the drilling spell. The drilling spell destroyed the spire in a matter of moments.
Abbadon, in his frustration, cried in parsel tongue and the earth rose to capture Harsh in a cage. The mystic flew out of its grasp and taunted him, "Old tricks, Abbadon."
Abbadon started hurling projectiles at him who flew around them while he kept taunting him. Finally, Abbadon shot his wand up in the sky and shouted an incantation. This incantation allowed one to summon lightning at any chosen target. It was a heavy spell and required years of practice to be fluent in it.
He summoned and guided tendrils of lightning at Harsh, attacking him. Harsh quickly realised that flying around while it rained lightning, was not a good idea. Besides when lightning struck a tree, it could keep burning for days and may start a forest fire. Instead, he landed on the ground and started firing fire- bolts at Abbadon while dodging the lightning which still struck.
Abbadon abandoned summoning more lightning but started firing spells in return of every spell which Harsh sent at him. Most of the time, their spells clashed mid-air causing fiery explosions disturbing the birds in the trees nearby. That part of the forest was lit up like day with all the light and the explosions. The other mystics guarded the perimeters of the wards they had set up and stopped anyone from approaching that area for they knew how harmful it could be for them.
Abbadon could see that they were reaching a stale-mate and he tried the underhand trick that he had done in Romania. He cast the dark mist all around making things go black so that he could get around and behind Harsh but Harsh whose senses were alert now, had his wand at the ready. He incanted loudly, "Pitradev Sanrakshanam".
A huge majestic Gir lion burst forth out of his wand, strutting around and dispelling the darkness. Before Abbadon could try anything else, he found himself surrounded by high walls with a dome. The walls were shrinking every minute trying to trap him within. He started to panic a little before he realised it was a transfiguration and not done using parsel tongue. He dug a tunnel out of his jail before the walls could close on him. However as he emerged, he met with a powerful flippendo hex which made him tumble a few times before he came to a stop. He was enraged that Harsh used such a pedestrian spell on him but then that was Harsh's style. He often used the most benign spells on people to TEST their alertness.
As he was getting his bearings, he was hit with another flippendo hex which flipped him once before he landed on his feet and conjured a shield to stop the next stunning spell. However as he did this, Harsh had ran at him and kicked him in the crotch making him howl in pain and anger at Harsh for doing something so underhanded. Harsh however, was undeterred and landed punches upon Abbadon who reluctantly pulled out the dagger that he kept sheathed on a cord under his cloak. Harsh had anticipated this as he drew the dagger hidden up his arm.
They started circling each other looking for an opening when Abbadon felt the earth move around his feet and cursed loudly. Harsh was moving the earth beneath his feet and trying to trap him. He flew into the air shooting a spell at Harsh who jumped aside to save himself from it. The spell hit the earth and upended almost 10 feet of soil. Before Harsh made his next move, he had shot another spell and the soil rose into the air to take the shape of a gargoyle which proceeded to attack Harsh trying to beat him into a pulp. Abbadon meanwhile had summoned another blast of lightning guiding it at Harsh who at the last moment, moved from his position making the gargoyle take the brunt of the attack.
As Abbadon attacked him again, he kept sidestepping while he incanted an incantation and the phantom chains appeared around Abbadon trying to tie him down. Abbadon however knew the secret to them and the counter curse to it. He countered the curse before it could hit him however he was beginning to feel the toll of the battle on his body. Harsh had forced him to do some extremely complicated magic sapping him of his strength. Harsh too had done some very complicated spells and felt the drain on his magic and slightly swayed on his legs. In their previous duels, this often ended in stalemate between them but this time, Harsh was prepared for it.
He sent a few lightning bolts at Abbadon who could not move in time and had to use a mage shield to save himself. This onslaught continued for a few more minutes before Abbadon knew he was done. Harsh too had spent a lot of his strength but he had an ace up his sleeve which Abbadon didn't.
As he ended the barrage of lightning spells, two of his mystics charged at Abbadon keeping him busy with casting spells and making him spend some more of his energy. These mystics knew they could not slay him but they were only sapping his strength and giving some time to Harsh.
Harsh was incanting an old mantra which he had devised centuries ago and had only used it once in his life. This was a kinder version of the parasite spell. It magnified his strength many-fold. The more followers he had, the more energy he would have. This spell had been devised in answer to the parasite spell and he had only used it in their previous encounter when Abbadon had used the Parasite spell. It increased his power in proportion to the number of followers that he had but did not sap them of strength or kill them. It was developed on the lines of the magic shared by Lords and their vassals.
As he finished his incantation, he could feel a significant portion of his strength returning. With a nod from him, his men retreated themselves to a distance while he engaged Abbadon who was now desperately looking for a way to get out of this situation. He could use the parasite spell but that was not feasible. Besides he had promised Voldemort that he will not use the spell for he gave everything to Voldemort in their last meeting.
"Abbadon, this is your end", said Harsh before he started making some very complicated motions with his wand. Abbadon was mesmerised with what Harsh was doing and could do nothing but be in awe of it for he had heard of it but never saw anyone doing it. As Harsh finished making those motions, he jabbed his wand towards Abbadon and a silvery cloud floated towards Abbadon ensconcing him in an envelope of silvery fog. What happened next was painful but Abbadon didn't cry out. Wherever the fog touched his body, that portion of his body vanished out of existence. First it was his legs followed by his torso starting with his shoulders gradually going towards his head. When the fog cleared, no trace of Abbadon was left!
Harsh sheathed his wand, bowed his head and said a small prayer, murmuring at the end, "Return to the folds of mother magic, Abbadon. May she fairly judge you for the crimes committed by you and your souls find a purpose again someday!"
Instructing his men to do the clean up, he turned to the Auror captain, "I will appreciate it if you will keep it a secret, child."
The Auror captain was feeling strong enough to sit on his knees before the ancient mage, prostrated himself and said, "Who are you, master? You have done a deed which a few can do yet you seek no recognition for this feat."
Harsh smiled, "Your time is coming soon. Your every question will be answered with time. For now, know that we are mystics and we are not spoken about in public. We generally obliviate people's memories about our existence but we have been following you and you show the potential to be a part of this order so it was thought prudent that you keep your memories of this duel. We will offer this choice to you however know that to become one of us, you will have to forget your identity, let go of all bonds and devote yourself entirely to mother magic. Farewell, child."
The Auror captain knew what his answer will be. He had no family, no bond and no ties. He wanted to serve mother magic like her favourite son.
The ministry of magic
Moody had deposited Dung in one of his safe-houses before he returned to the ministry. He would bring in Dung but not until after he had recuperated a little for Moody had elaborate torture planned for him.
When he returned to the torture chamber, the German was still there. Moody ferally grinned, "Are you ready to give answers now?"
The death eater knew he would speak. His fate was sealed either way and to die a painful death was foolish. After all, Voldemort hadn't done anything that would make him loyal to the dark lord. Gasping for breath, his missing teeth slurring his speech, he said, "I will anther your quethions. (I will answer your questons.)"
Moody smirked, "And you were saying you won't break down. Tell me about the German who led the battle of Hogsmeade."
"Hith name ith Emmeth Wagner. He ith the capthain of all the Germanth who were thent by the guild to help Voldemorth in his war. He hath orchethrated the athack on Hogthmeath buth the thuthenth foiled hith planth. He thithn'th ethpeth them to be able tho fith anth then the tho boyth changth everything when they enthered intho the fray.(His name is Emmett Wagner. He is the captain of all of the Germans who were sent by the guild to help Voldemort in his war. He had orchestrated the attack on Hogsmeade but the students foiled his plans. He didn't expect them to be able to fight and then the two boys changed everything when they entered into the fray.)"
Moody put his wand to the captive's temple, "Give me a memory of this Wagner. I will personally find him and kill him. He has to answer for the death of my boys."
With that done, he asked the second question, "Why is the dark mark not on your arm?"
"The guilth agreeth tho help Volthemorth buth we are noth hith thervanth or chathelth. The only conthithion of our thupporth wath thath we will noth be brantheth by him. (The guild agreed to help Voldemort but we are not his servants or chattels. The only condition of our support was that we will not be branded by him.)"
Moody nodded, "And what is this Wagner doing now?"
"The thark Lorth inthuctheth him intho hith inner thircle. He thith there anth givth counthel. He ith altho rethponthible for thraining the thark lorth fortheth. (The Dark Lord inducted him in his inner circle. He sits there and gives counsel. He is also responsible for training the Dark lord's forces.)"
Moody made a mental note that removing front teeth made it difficult to understand when a prisoner decides to talk. From now on, he would stick to removing back teeth. He nodded, "Now how did you come to Azkaban so quickly?"
"The thark Lorth hath platheth a forthe of abouth fifthy theath eatherth on a ship. The ship was bethween the Shoreline anth the ilanth keeping an eye on where the entranthe uthe tho be. He knew thath you woulth come and we were tho athack and thethroy any vethel thailing thowarth the Ilanth. You thlippeth path uth anth goth on the Ilanth. We wenth tho invethigath the lithning which we thaw on the Ilanth. Ith wath then we realith you hath thaken another entranth of whith no one knew. (The Dark Lord had placed a force of about 50 death eaters on a ship. The ship was between the Shoreline and the island keeping an eye on where the entrance used to be. He knew that you would come and we were to attack and destroy any vessel sailing towards the Island. You slipped past us and got on the Island. We went to investigate the lightning which we saw on the Island. It was then we realised you had taken another entrance of which no one knew about.)"
Moody was thankful that Sirius Black had led them through that secret tunnel that day or it could have been a very bloody battle in the North Sea where they all might have ended up dead or would have returned without being of any use.
A/N- we are coming to the close and trust me, it makes me feel elated and sad at the same time. Together until the end...
