Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Chapter 14- A whirlwind of heart and spells
The sun was going down, dark clouds gathering overhead— bringing with them a premonition—when she received her orders.
They'd been looking for cloaked figures, chasing after shadows and dust trails. They hadn't found anyone yet, but the simple truth that three of their own were now dead was enough to send them scrambling—looking for clues.
The orders for her came from their second in command, one, Gawain Robards. He was a robust man; thick eyebrows, scratchy voice, and broad shoulders, characteristic of a training freak. Something Tonks knew to be true.
"Initiate Tonks." He beckoned. "You are called in the interrogation camp right this instant. They're waiting for you."
That managed to just barely distract her from the bundle of complicated emotions currently brewing inside her.
It didn't last long, however. Especially as she made her way to the ministry tents on her lonesome, with nothing to distract her from the panic-inducing thoughts.
She tried, really tried, to distract her mind away. But even the world around her seemed to want to torture her. The silent lonely hills—which had been teeming with wizards and witches just this morning; the dusty roads trailing behind the stadium, littered with dried leaves that cracked like splintered air beneath her shoes; even the woods were oddly quiet and echoing.
All this meant that she no longer had the privilege of keeping herself distracted. And thus, the thoughts came out—dark and dreary—and her head spun anew.
'What have I done?' She finally asked herself, a muted feeling of dread creating a pit in her stomach, enlarging in size, bit by bit.
For the longest period of her life, the future had seemed perfectly clear to Nymphadora Tonks.
She'd achieved her dream of becoming an Auror, she had a loving family who supported her in everything she did, and a brilliant boyfriend whom she eventually planned to marry.
Or, well, once she'd planned to.
If someone had told her that a single day might end up ruining one of the biggest anchors in her life, she would never have believed them.
Unfortunately, reality was often a harsh convincer.
A day, mere hours truly, was all it took for her life to suddenly do a complete 180, plunging her into a path so unknown that she'd never even dared imagine it before.
A path with choices aplenty, all confusing her brain like a scrambled egg, and therein lay her current bundle of complications.
Complications that bred a tightly woven ball of darkness in her heart. A ball made of uncertainty, anger, confusion, guilt…and desire. A whole lot of guilt and desire.
'I cheated on Bill.'
The words made her entire world feel surreal. How could she cheat on Bill? She loved Bill! Surely there was a mistake….
But no. Her body knew exactly how real it was. The warmth and afterglow of her recent sexual escapades had yet to recede.
And they simply reiterated the fact again, etching it deep within her soul.
'I cheated on Bill. I did the one thing that is sure to destroy our relationship completely.'
They'd had their fights in the past of course, one particularly nasty case had lasted for a full week with neither talking to each other.
And yet, they'd eventually recovered, as all couples do, growing closer still for every challenge they overcame.
But there's no recovering from betrayal. In the matter of hearts, betrayal is the greatest sin.
Nymphadora Tonks didn't know where she'd heard it from, but right now, there was nothing more real to her.
And try though she might, she couldn't shake away the dread that came with the words.
Using the same excuse she'd used—when she first convinced herself of walking upon this path—didn't work either. Not this time.
'We weren't together at the time.'—was such an incredibly naïve and unrealistic take that she didn't even bother using it again.
Yes, she was angry at the time. Yes, she had thoughts of leaving the shameless cretin behind.
But they hadn't actually broken up. She hadn't had the guts to walk to his face and say with all confidence, 'I'm done with you.'
The thing was, she hadn't been confident if that's what she truly wanted.
The least she could've done was wait for Bill to explain himself.
And had it been Bill who found her instead of…him, she would have surely done so.
Instead, she'd taken a drastically immature decision and completely closed that line forever.
What exactly had convinced her to sleep with a boy 4 years her junior?
The question she asked herself was a rhetorical one, conveying righteous anger at herself.
Instead, she found herself taking it quite literally, and painful though it was, her heart answered honestly: Revenge.
Revenge on Bill for acting like an utter arsehole. Ogling a girl, who Tonks had to admit, made her woefully insecure about herself.
'And not just ogling.' She seethed, guilt giving way to anger. 'The shameless bastard actually went down on his knees for her!'
He had never done anything like that for her in their last couple of years together.
But even as she tried to hold onto that anger, trying to justify her own actions away, she knew that wasn't enough for what she'd done.
Because she also knew, revenge wasn't the only thing that made her do what she did. No, the bigger reason was….
…Lust.
Lust for a boy who did not seem like a 14 year old. The way he carried himself, sure and cautious, she'd only ever seen in the most senior Aurors.
Then there was his abruptly changed personality. Charming was not a word she would've used to describe Harry Potter in the past. Sure, she had always seen him as someone handsome enough to turn heads—even for someone her age— but the ever present Slytherin sneer whenever they met took away from it in unpleasant ways.
Now…well, considering how quickly she'd let him mount her, there was nothing more to state.
'Merlin, I still can't believe I initiated this whole thing.' She thought to herself in frustrated annoyance and a slight bit of disgust as her legs marched through the line of tents, making their way to the large pavilion where Scrimgeour supposedly kept a captured Death Eater.
Her thoughts wandered back to the boy who shook her whole world on his lonesome.
'In the bed as well.' Whispered the part of her that wished to go back to him right this moment.
Nymphadora Tonks let herself indulge guiltily, remembering the incredibly athletic body that can't possibly have belonged to a 14 year old, or those alluringly deep green eyes that sparkled with fire as he stared deep within her…or that horse shaft that had reached the most deepest parts of her, satisfying every inch of her body thoroughly.
'Alright you Nymph, shut up.' She groaned in her hands, absently showing her Auror's badge to the guard outside the pavilion.
The worst thing wasn't just that she'd cheated on Bill, It was how much she had enjoyed it.
No, not just enjoy—after the initial guilt had waned away in pleasure and passion— she had loved every second of it.
She may have went in it with thoughts of revenge in her mind, but she'd left with thoughts of Harry Potter.
The boy was, without a doubt, the greatest lover she'd ever had.
And that just elevated her present guilt even more.
Along with a dark need.
'I really am a Nymph, aren't I?' She thought, despairingly. 'Would anyone even want to do anything but shag me?'
'Whatever.' She pushed down all such thoughts as she entered inside the cavern-like pavilion, letting her work distract her away.
It was a large tent, even by wizards standards. Multiple temporary cells were stacked in line at the very back, as if cages meant to store animals in a circus.
The cages lay empty though, with only one being occupied. The one at the very centre—containing an almost regal looking man, sitting calmly on his lone wooden bench with his eyes closed. There were marks of blood along his eyelids, trailing along his brows down to his right ear.
Then her eyes fell upon the figures present with her in the tent— all important people who would normally not give their time of the day to an initiate. Especially in a situation like this.
Minister Bones stood with her hands clasped, just outside the prisoner's cell, talking to Head Auror Scrimgeour with a scowl.
"This wasn't supposed to happen in the first place, Rufus." She growled, and Tonks was happy they hadn't discovered her yet. She didn't want to mess up such a tense moment. "It doesn't matter why or how it may have happened. The entire crowd saw us running out in panic. It's a wonder no one has tried to break out of the stadium yet. But the rumors should've started already."
Beside them stood possibly the most paranoid Auror in the history of Great Britain, Mad-eye moody.
The retired Auror was talking to a familiar face, who turned to her seconds after she entered the vast tent.
"Dora!" Exclaimed James Potter, worried eyes lighting up with hope. He quickly scrambled towards her, a frantic intensity in his steps. "You were with Harry, weren't you? Where is he now!? What is he doing!?"
Before he could fully approach her, a wooden cane wacked him right on the head from behind.
"Aw! What was that for!?"
Startled, and doing her best to stop a blush at the boy's reminder, She was thankfully saved from the earlier question as Moody hobbled over besides the head of hitwizards.
While she didn't know what Harry was doing right now, she knew exactly what he was doing half-an-hour ago.
'Pumping inside me with the might of a dragon.'
Her blush was now threatening to break over, forcing her to quickly utilize the paltry bit of occlumency in her repertoire to focus in the present.
"I am doing what you should be doing, Potter." Auror Moody growled out. "Already forgetting your duties?"
James Potter sighed, his eyes urging her for an answer.
"He left to meet up with you guys." She answered hesitantly, now growing confused and bewildered at the gathered party. "Last I saw him was in the underground section."
"Oh, thank Merlin." James breathed out, stepping away with suddenly unburdened shoulders. "Minister? I'll have to send a patronus to Lily, or she and Bella won't stop searching until they've upturned the place. You can manage here, I take it?"
Minister Bones gave a short nod, her eyes turning to Nymphadora.
Before she could do more than open her mouth, Moody limped over between them. "Is anyone listening to a word that I'm barking over here!? We need complete lockdown of security right now! Starting with making sure some imposter isn't here to rescue her little friend."
The last one was growled out towards her.
"Wait, you're serious?" Tonks let out in surprise before slapping her hand over her mouth as she gained the attention of all four. "Sorry! Please continue."
For a moment there was silence in the tent…then Mr. Potter left with one last nod at the minister, his steps hurried and impatient.
Scrimgeour sighed, waving her in. "I don't think we need to be this paranoid, Alastor. But for your peace of mind, we will oblige."
Her direct superior turned to her. "Initiate Tonks here is quite special, you see? Hard to impersonate. Initiate, would you mind showing our friend here that unique skill of yours?"
"Sure, sir." Suppressing a smirk, Tonks changed into Moody, grinning wildly with her hand extended—shooting a thumb's up at the man, the other hand resting on her waist.
Scrimgeour and Bones looked mildly disturbed, while Moody's real eye opened wide to match his other one in size, fascinated disgust filled in them.
Minister Bones coughed, closing her eyes as if to forget the image. "Yes, well, that's quite enough I would say."
"And I would say our enemies have studied us well." Moody's glaring eye stayed fixed on her. "Slipping in a Metamorph amongst us could be difficult, but not for Grindelwald."
Tonks changed back and folded her hands, scowling at the suspicious look on the legendary Auror. "Respectfully, sir. At this point, I don't think they'd even bother. Surely taking Polyjuice of some random Auror would be much better and easier."
Minister Bones seemed to agree, nodding slightly.
Scrimgeour sighed, spreading his arms wide. "In any case, we've no way to determine it now. Our assailants destroyed our potions cabinet, the only thing we've managed to salvage is a vile of befuddlement draught."
"Well then Legilimens her!" Mad-eye Moody bellowed, finally seeming to lose his cool. "What are you two playing at here!? One green flash and you're dead. Forget about controlling the stadium, we all would be struggling to control the bloody country, should anything happen to you minister."
"You've gone barmy if you think I'll ever let you." Tonks spat, a sudden surge of anger boiling inside her.
'This day's just getting better and better by the second.'
She was ignored however as slowly, almost lovingly, Moody turned to stare at Scrimgeour. "Or maybe that's exactly what you want, eh, Rufus? Think you're ready to handle the ministry now, do you?"
Tonks gasped as her department head suddenly unsheathed his wand—looking ready to cast—his eyes burning with a cold and dark fury.
"That's enough Alastor! Rufus, put that wand away!" The Minister snapped out the commands, suddenly coming to loom over the two—both of whom backed away like a couple of school boys caught by a teacher.
She stared at the two critically for a moment. Then, as if her sudden surge of strength was drained out of her, she let out a sigh—backing away with a hand massaging her forehead. "You're right of course, Alaster. But we cannot force Ms. Tonks here to do that. We need her metamorphic abilities, so her help comes voluntarily. If she decides to curse us out to Morgana and simply leave, I cannot, and will not, stop her."
They all turned to stare at her now, two disgruntled set of eyes beside a very tired one. Tonks ignored the two men, meeting the minister's eye.
She knew about her own freedom of course. One of the things she'd demanded at the Auror trials was to be judged based on her own magical skills, and not on her special ability. Which gave her the permission to treat her ability as a skillset outside the bounds of her work.
So she had complete rights to flip them off and turn away. Afterall, they were the ones unsure about her. She understood their reasons of course, though it still stung to be seen as distrustful.
But looking in her minister's eye, the tired desperation that looked to be on the verge of collapse, Nymphadora Tonks simply couldn't find it in her to deliver a cold rejection.
So she walked forward into the tent, ignoring the look Moody was still shooting her.
She came to stand in front of the minister, uncertain and more than a little embarrassed. "I will be willing to do this, but I have recently engaged in…private…ah, activities, Minister. I would appreciate it if you could keep out of it."
A small smile lit upon the tired face, and Tonks could see how beautiful the minister truly was.
'Merlin above, why am I surrounded by such disgustingly pretty women?' She cursed in her mind.
The Minister gave a light nod, palming her wand. "Of course, Ms. Tonks. Just concentrate on our last meeting, and push back your recent memories. This will be very quick. Come, take a seat."
She waved her wand and conjured a wooden chair.
Tonks took a deep breath, goosebumps rising on her skin, as she took the chair. 'Push down on the recent memories. No big deal.'
But when she closed her eyes, all she could remember were those strong hands gripping onto her hips, holding her in position as his waist slammed against her behind again and again.
"Are you ready?" A voice seemed to say but she was a touch too distracted to care.
'No! Not this!' She groaned inside her mind, trying to dismiss the y. 'C'mon Tonks you stupid Nymph, you can do this!'
She nodded to herself. Yes, yes she can do this. As a basic lvl 2 occlumens, she had mastered the ability to control her emotions and form a shield over her mind—though to a very basic degree, which needed her to be calm from the start.
"…..very well, if you're sure." She absently heard the minister say, and realised too late that there might be a bit of a misunderstanding. "Legilimence!"
Panic flared inside her head and the worst came into being.
Images of Harry Potter and her coupling lay starkly in her mind, her mind castle pushing them forward as the most recent memories—Their naked sweaty bodies wrestling on a conjured bed. She could feel another subconsciousness, watching the scenes with shock and bashfulness.
It wasn't even a minute, mere few seconds truly, but it felt like a lifetime to her.
''Change it!' She bellowed in her mind and with Merlin's grace and glory, the memory finally shifted off to the last meeting she had with the minister.
Then they were back in their bodies, with Madam Bones still on her chair, taking deep breaths and staring at her with widened eyes.
The minister gave a quick look around the tent—noting the men were away to give them a sense of privacy—before leaning forth towards Tonks.
"Really?" The minister whispered. "With Harry Potter?"
A part of her wanted to lay down and curl up on the spot in embarrassment and shame. But a bigger part was just feeling drained. Today had been a roller coaster of emotions for Tonks, and she found herself just not caring anymore.
So staring the minister right in the eye, she shrugged. "Can you blame me?"
The minister sputtered a little—her cheeks flaming red—before composing herself with a deep breath, a small hesitant smirk forming on her face. "Well…I guess not, no. At least, if what I saw was true…."
"It was." Tonks solemnly promised. "He was."
"Poor Susan…" Madam Bones sighed, leaning back with a sad nod. "She seems to have missed a big, big chance."
They looked at each other….and then they snickered, gaining the attention of the wizards.
"I will take that to mean she is who she is." Auror Scrimgeour said, giving a pointed glare at Moody. "Now if we're done with this ridiculousness, perhaps we may begin."
Moody grunted but didn't reply, though he too started hobbling back towards them.
Tonks looked at the minister. "What am I here for, exactly?"
Madam Bones took up, amusement vanishing behind weariness as she approached the prisoner. Tonks followed. "To interrogate him, I'm afraid."
The prisoner was still sprawled over his wooden bench as if a king in his own right—humming a soft tune, utterly unconcerned for a man being stared down by four enemies.
"He is a powerful occlumens." Scrimgeour noted. "We shot a combined confundus upon him but managed to gain absolutely nothing. Not that he was unaffected, but he had enough faculties of his mind to recognize our faces."
Tonks nodded, things clicking in place. "You want to register the befuddlement charm and send me with a face of someone else, in hopes that he doesn't suspect anything through the potion's effects."
"Indeed." There was a smirk in his reply. "Just, I'm a smudge more thorough. I do not want you to look like a random wizard, but as his own kind This one wasn't the only dark wizard we found, though I fear the other one is dead."
The prisoner suddenly started laughing, startling all the ones present. It was a high, mocking laugh—ugly to hear— promising only contempt for them.
"You are too late, Englishmen." He whispered—his voice low and raspy, stormy grey eyes opening to regard them with pity and disgust. "He comes."
"Who?" Scrimgeour demanded, stepping forth to the cell cage. "Who comes? Your master?"
The prisoner chuckled again. "My leader. He is here."
And then it happened.
A power, unlike any she'd ever felt, suddenly bore down on them. It wasn't physical and she doubted it was aimed at them, but all four gathered were aware of its presence.
"Anti-disapparition ward." Moody growled out after a few seconds of silence.
Scrimgeour nodded. "It extends far, perhaps over all the plateaus."
The prisoner let loose another hysterical chuckle. "He is here! And you are all doomed! Go. Do whatever you think you may need doing. This will be the only chance you get."
The minister moved at once, a hurried urgency in her steps. "We must act. Rufus, prepare your teams. And someone send for James and Bella! I want all lvl 6 duelers with me now! We've prepared for this, people. It's time we put it to some use."
Tonks did not know what was about to happen. But she knew, whatever it was, it was gonna be a real pain to deal with.
.
A mood of celebration lay thick as the finals of 422nd edition of Quidditch finals came to a climatic end. The Irish team were in their 2nd victory lap since having raised the vast golden cup, attracting all eyes to them.
While a portion of the crowd had grown worried at seeing the English officials leave abruptly with a hurried gait, none paid too much attention—letting themselves be taken under the false security of cheers and celebrations around them.
Indeed, none paid any attention at all as the tiny force of hitwizards—that were specifically told to stay back—started disappearing one by one.
It wasn't until the air in front of them splintered open—and with an explosive crack announcing his presence, Gellert Grindelwald himself stepped upon the grass of Dartmoor Quidditch Stadium—that the crowd finally seemed to realize; Something might be very very wrong today.
As if a dementor had graced them with its presence, all joy seemed to slowly disappear from the crowd. The drums stopped banging, the saxophones went quiet, and the crowd held its breath in nervous anticipation as seconds passed and no one dared confront this man.
A man who somehow seemed to Apparate right through the wards.
Of course, once the smarter part of the crowd realized the severity, they would check if the wards still existed. The answer would be stark 'No'.
The ones who were capable of doing something however, namely the two most dangerous wand carriers present in the stadium, were more concerned with their families.
Lily Potter and Bellatrix Black knew something had gone wrong from the start. But their search for a green-eyed boy took a higher priority. Their plan was simple: Gather their family and leave.
Perhaps, had they been present then, they would've confronted the Dark Lord. But they were currently lost searching through the undergrounds—ignorant about a much greater threat.
And thus, Gellert Grindelwald had some freedom to give a rousing speech….had he wanted to.
To Gellert, the air was moist and welcoming, almost electrifying to behold. The dark clouds overhead seemed to herald his presence, the howling winds his messengers.
'Oh, I've missed this. A pity I have more important things to do.'
With a deep breath of satisfaction, he spread his arms wide.
"Brothers and sisters," His voice did not seem to be raised by any spell, yet it reached the ears of each and every one in the stadium. "I thank you for your presence, though I know it is not for me. But my words…what I have to speak today…they may be more important for you than this sport."
The urgency grew in the ones who were aware. Chill of fear and anxiety spread through their bodies as they realized what was happening. The rest, however, were still quite ignorant. They knew in the back of their minds, that this was what their authorities have been preparing for. That what was happening to them was something they'd feared for a long time. And yet, they cannot believe that it may actually come to pass.
Reality was, after all, much harder to accept when in denial.
"My name….is Gellert Grindelwald."
Now they scrambled. As if the words had given the instincts in their chests reality.
"And I have come with a proposition."
People were crowding for the exit now. Slowly at first, but gaining speed as they realized that others had similar intentions.
"A proposition….that you must hear."
His wand, dark and gleaming, twirled through the air—taking power from the battery of Obscurial ashes that he'd prepared for this very moment.
The space locked upon in itself, magic closing down the gaps of pathways as the anti-disapparition ward snapped into effect. It extended kilometers wide, covering the vast expanse of land under its effects.
It hurt him some, to make use of such valuable items just to frighten a bunch of ignorant wizards. He had been collecting Obscurials since time long-buried—what with them playing a most pivotal role in his plans to save this world—but that did not mean he had any to spare so frivolously.
'It needs to be done.' He comforted himself. 'Today is too important not to.'
He did not stop the crowd from leaving, of course. Even though his purpose was different this time, he usually never stopped anyone from leaving. He'd come to learn that forcing his ideals upon others never work. But the ones who stayed, whatever their reasons may be, they always deserved his truth.
Not this time.
"Dark times approach us, my brethren." Gellert spoke again, grim solemnity coloring his words. "I have known of my calling for a long time now. My duty, my destiny….it arrives. And I ask for your help."
And yet, Gellert Grindelwald wasn't here to recruit this time.
Oh no, certainly not. His current purpose was far too exciting than that, thus his words contained none of his true passion and power.
There was also the fact that English wizards were some of most stubborn pieces of magicals he'd ever seen. His last recruiting experience here had been…less than satisfactory.
A figure ran towards him, his boot scrapping upon the grass. Panting, he knelt down as soon as he reached him.
"Your orders are heeded, my lord." Abernathy declared, face planted in the ground. "My men are ready to capture the younger Potter. His sibling is already being taken care of. Three of our best are after him, as you suggested. Though I must say I don't understand the reason."
Grindelwald smiled. "You will soon. But worry not, you have done well, Abernathy. I expected nothing less from you."
He truly was proud of his wizards. They were so much more efficient than the death eaters. He would know, he'd worked closely with their lord once upon a time.
Perhaps they may join forces once again. The Potter boys were his gift to his former protégé. They should be enough.
His job for now was simply one of…herding.
This country was well prepared for his arrival. They knew his biggest weapon wasn't simply his magic, but the crowd itself that was prone to panicking—something Grindelwald had taken advantage of in no few occasions.
But simply caging them inside the stadium was never going to work. The people were like a pressured up bottle of soda, wanting to pop free of their constraints. Grindelwald's job was just to give them a slight push, and let them storm out on their own….
Into the awaiting hands of his men.
.
Chilling wind howled through the woods of Dartmoor forest, the trees bristling under its might. The night's darkness spread thickly— dominating the lands, bringing with it a silence that cannot be broken easily.
But deep within the forest, surrounded by dense thicket, there lay a large clearing—almost a kilometer wide— that seemed to defy this natural state of being.
Charred and smoking debris littered the clearing, its once-green grass now blacked, all of it blanketed by a thin layer of smoldering water. And amidst the pieces of wood and stone—large and small—four cloaked beings danced between a shower of spells.
The silence was the easiest to break. The unnatural whooshing and crackling sounds of their spells made sure that it had no room to exist.
The darkness on the other hand, while strong and dominating, was broken by multiple sources. One hung high in the sky, a bright ball of light that illuminated the entire clearing.
Second was a sparkling of colours that tore through the air, throwing their own hue of glow around that mixed with the sky light to defeat the darkness.
The spells that were cast—unleashing the said sparkles—came from only the three cloaked figures however. The three who moved together, fighting against their lone enemy that held strong against their relentless onslaught stubbornly.
That loner warrior was Harry Potter, and he produced the third source of brightness, and undoubtedly the strongest one.
A net of thin pointed rocks, like arrowheads made of stone—all alit with fire—hung around him like a globed shield, tightly bound under his control. They revolved around him slowly, blocking any incoming spells from his enemies, striking them down with pinpoint accuracy. The flaming arrowheads burnt with such intensity that their fierce radiance turned to be the final nail in the darkness' coffin, thoroughly vanquishing it from the area.
But that wasn't the only thing the arrows would be nailing tonight.
The team of three did their best to keep their enemy on the defensive, launching spells after spells, hoping to overwhelm him with their number, combined power, and skill.
And yet, they couldn't pierce through the sphere of fire and stone.
Harry dealt with all of their attacks whilst remaining immobile, his fiery stoneheads simply keeping pace with the enemy's casting as they struck down spells after spells, intercepting their paths with precision.
His Occlumency enabled him to divide his attention in two; one kept account of spells aimed at him, the other patrolled any spells wanting to change his environment. Transfigurations were denied to take effect, conjurations were pierced by dozens of arrowheads, and when the trio of dark wizards finally had had enough and decided to wash him over with their own brand of fire, he let go.
His control over magic wasn't great enough to manipulate the storm of flaming arrowheads while casting spells at the same time.
Thus, the moment one of his opponents stepped back to create their own inferno, he rained down death upon them.
Together as one unit, the arrowheads stopped circling around him and moved forward to form a wall at his front. Then, keeping the unity, they sped through the air for his enemies—bearing down upon them like glowing needles.
"Stick to the plan!" Screamed the woman, her spell disrupted as she took the leadership of their group.
A large blue shield materialized into being, curving around the group to cover them behind a small semi-spherical dome.
Two of the cloaked trio—the woman and Mathew—tied themselves into maintaining the shield, while the remaining member—Krafft the crippled—kept shooting annoying but quick spells to keep Harry busy.
The flaming arrows smashed against the blue shield in a loud crackling explosion, hiding it under their orange glow. He could already see thin splintering lines slowly forming along the shield's surface, increasing ever so slightly with every impact.
Harry decided to give it a final nudge and crack it open. He stepped forth—almost absently—letting the cripple's spell fly over his head. Without having to maintain the firestorm of stones, he was free to cast magic again.
A small dotted shield formed at the tip of his wand. When the next spell chased after him, he hit it right in the middle, sending it back to its caster who jumped behind his teammate's shield with a curse.
Now free of the annoyance, Harry let loose a quick half-assed Bombarda right in the middle of the splintering shield.
"Krafft!" The alarmed woman screamed a second before the spell struck.
The Bombarda exploded upon impact, its powerful flames mingling with the peppering of arrowheads to pop open their shield like a pinata—forcing it to dissipate in motes of blue light.
A second shield formed barely in time to block the last round of flaming arrows, but it was powered by a single wizard. And a wizard who'd just cauterized his recent dismemberment, no doubt still distracted by the bouts of pain. It was simple to conclude that no matter how good of an Occlumens he may be, Krafft wasn't at his finest.
And the attack the trio of dark wizards faced demanded their finest.
The newly formed shield strained against the onslaught, and Harry launched another shower of spells to break through it. Overpowered Bombardas, Confringos, and Reductors headed straight for the barely holding shield.
One thing he was certain about in this fight was thus; while all three of his enemies were strong duelers, no two of them could hope to be his match. As long as Harry managed to take down one single opponent completely, the tide of this battle will quickly turn to his side.
That did not come to pass however as at the last moment, the other male wizard shakily, and hurriedly, raised his wand and transfigured the ground in front of Krafft into an earth-wall, tenaciously hanging onto the battle.
The ground rose up to form a wall of mud and stone, hiding the rest of the scene from Harry's eyes. By the time his spells tore it down—Reductors cracking the wall open while the explosive spells completely smashed it away—Harry was revealed to the scene of a sorry bunch of wizards struggling to their feet, the last round of arrows having been successfully defended.
A sense of muted annoyance broke through his occlumency, welling up in a tight ball within him as his enemies straightened again—all three standing together now—their wands held ready with frustrated determination glinting in their eyes, looking like dark chitinous marbles in the night.
The fight hadn't gone for long yet, but to Harry—who was counting every second as being away from the people who needed him—it might as well have been a life time.
Then, they began casting. And for the first time, Harry faced the might of all three Auror-level opponents at once—this time properly.
The one-armed man started first, almost pettily stepping ahead of his peers, his wand slashing down with a sickly green glow. The other two joined him next. The woman gave birth to a firestorm again, big and powerful— though not quite what he'd witnessed from Dumbledore. The last one targeted Harry's surroundings, and he could sense a sharp command to change, within the spell.
Alone and outnumbered though he may be, this wasn't the first time he was facing such a situation. And he dealt with it as always—with the precision of a surgeon.
He slipped past Krafft's killing curse calmly, his wand shooting a powerful Depulso overhead—aiming towards the fire that had just finished taking form of a horned serpent. He didn't bother seeing the results, turning blithely to shoot two quick Reductos at the rapidly transfiguring stone. Which had just begun taking form of a lion.
The stone cracked, interrupting the magic; the fire scattered over his opponent—his Depulso strong enough to break the woman's control; and Harry calmly ducked under another killing curse from the cripple.
"Merlin take you!" The woman screamed—angered and frustrated—as she hastily shielded her group from her wild fire's reach.
But the other two were there to cover her guard, this time working in a much better tandem as they pinned him down under an onslaught of spells. The crippled one was noticeably slower than before, but he still cast faster than most people Harry knew.
The spells ranged from lethal Killing curses, Bone-breakers, and Entrails Expellers to the more mundane Stunners, and Disarmers. Harry danced through them adroitly, fast and dexterous enough to avoid or deflect most of them.
But the only attacks from his own side were the occasional enemy spells that he sent right back to them. He dared not shield against even a single volley, for he knew exactly what fate awaited him there. If he became a turtle against three highly skilled opponents, escape would be nigh impossible. Especially with the route to Apparate completely cut off.
Thus, he did his very best to put up a solid defense without his shield, even taking a page out of his enemies book to launch tiny pebbles at them before hitting them with Engorgio—turning pebbles to boulders and monoliths that deflected rounds and rounds of spells.
But the tide shifted thoroughly when the woman joined them. She was the best out of them three, Harry had no doubts of this. Her spells were quick and powerful, and she seemed to prefer bending the nature to her will when casting magic.
And she was adapting quickly. Just as he was.
In no time, he was facing the same boulders he'd launched earlier—only, now they were raging with fire.
The woman actually threw his own strategy back at him.
'Smart woman.' Harry frowned. 'But so very irritating.'
The two men were now casting non-lethal spells rapidly, intending to divert his attention from the approaching boulders. If he responded to them, he would be crushed alive underneath the heavy stones. If he responded to the stone though, he will be stunned and disarmed in no time.
He needed something to answer both the attacks.
So he ran.
Why? Because he had one more advantage no wizard would count on: his physique. Not only could he deal with both the attacks this way, should he somehow manage to close the distance and get his hands on them, the trio of wizards may just as well prove to be same as Malfoy and his group: Helpless children.
He skipped between the spells, occasionally smacking one or two back to their owners as he began closing the distance. The ground was wet, his boots splashing droplets of water around as he nimbly made his way towards his enemies.
The boulders were too heavy for the woman to direct properly—especially alit with fire as they were—and in no time his feet were running directly underneath the stones, letting them soar away overhead.
But just as he was about to duck underneath the last one, it shifted. It was sudden and jarring; too unnatural to be real. One moment it looked to follow after the monolith, the next it struck down—directly towards his head.
A pale shield popped into existence in an instance, blocking the flaming boulder from splattering and frying his brains all over the wet ground. And not necessarily in that order.
That slight moment of delay was all he needed to escape, diving away from his rapidly cracking shield, letting it fall to the ground.
The boulder slammed down with a deep thump, sending vibrations through the land that climbed up his feet, to his stomach and chest. The fire sizzled down from underneath it as it lay upon the sheen of water, releasing smoke and mist.
Harry had no time to taste success however, as a three way attack suddenly started streaming down at him.
He was alive and unharmed, successfully dealing with enemy attacks—but he'd lost his momentum. And the shower of spells reached him faster than sound, all aiming to tie up his movements.
There was no time for Harry to think, no chance of dodging.
So he shielded.
'Protego Maxima!' He bellowed in his mind, his wand cutting the air vertically to form a massive shield glowing with powerful blue intensity, stopping all three streams of spells at once with little to no trouble.
Knowing the risk, he tried dismissing the shield to get away, but there was no point. His enemies clamped upon his forced mistake and proceeded forward victoriously with brute force, all three attacking with feverish intensity. Their combined might made his hand shake slightly, needing all his attention in maintaining the shield.
Yet, slowly but surely, he pushed back as well.
Harry Potter may be trapped, but giving up was not in his veins.
'The boulder.' A sudden burst of inspiration whispered. 'Shift towards the boulder, then take cover behind it.'
A brief moment of respite was all he would need to get back in the battle. And hiding behind the boulder was as good a plan as any.
'No.'
With his Occlumency running strong, his mind quickly cracked through the plan. 'A simple push from that woman, and I'll be a pancake under the stone.'
He will constantly need to fight off her magic if he wished to make the round boulder his cover, which defeated the entire point of the plan.
Worse, if a combined Depulso from all three hit the boulder, he doubted anyone could help him from being crushed underneath it.
For the first time in this fight, Harry Potter was well and truly trapped, with no straight way out of it.
'Fine.' He readied himself for an arduous battle of will and power, setting his feet wide as he held against the tide strongly. 'A long struggle this shall be, but I'll come out the victor.'
It doesn't matter if he was trapped or not. Doesn't matter if he could attack or not. As long as he closed the distance between them, they were dead.
One moment. All he would need is one moment of distraction, and he could tear them apart bare handed.
And thus, he pushed. He pushed, pushed, and pushed further back. At first it was a struggle to take even a step, with three chains of spells bearing down upon his shield. He kept hoping one of them will be foolish enough to stop aiming at his shield—perhaps to distract him through transfiguration, perhaps through conjuration—yet it never came.
His enemies were smart. They knew he would need but a tiny room of space—a brief chance of respite—and combined with his inhuman dexterity, he could slip past this noose before it could tighten. And so, they continued their—what must be for them—a mind numbingly repeatable attack to crack apart his shield.
But he held on with an ever greater tenacity. Teeth gritting, hand shaking, and dripping with sweat—he held on. And pushed. One struggling step at a time, he pushed, gaining momentum as he covered the distance, until there was a mere 15 feet of gap between them.
Not that he was completely unaffected by their combined might. His knees were digging into the ground, his palms were sweaty as he held the wand with both hands, his breath was high and panting, his shield starting to form slight cracks….Yes indeed, he wasn't unaffected. Not by a long shot.
But his enemies did not know what awaited them, they did not know his plan. So they stood stationary.
Even still, for all his struggle forward, he was threading upon very thin ice right now. His hands were clammy and shaking, both gripping upon the wand as he moved. His knees were digging into the ground with every push. And the cracks on his shield were starting to widen slowly with each cycle of spells they blocked.
His Lumos maxima soon whisked out as his magic fully concentrated upon the shield, and the only sources of light that remained were the rapid spells from his enemies and the burning forest— the true victim of this battle.
Thoughts of despair tried wrecking his mind, and try though he might—with his occluded mind stretched thin to focus upon the struggle—he couldn't keep all from reaching him.
'Is this all I'll do in the war?' He gritted his teeth, his magic flickering, the cracks enlarging. 'Get stuck here, away from the true fight, struggling against three opponents who did not matter?'
What use was his knowledge? What use was his power?
'While the two who truly matters to me fight for their life, here I am—landing myself in a pit with no escape all on my own folly.'
This day was truly showing him exactly how much those two meant to him. He hadn't realized that until now, but he found himself accepting it completely.
Thus, he couldn't help but curse himself for being a fool. Why hadn't he simply taken Tonks' advice and joined Lily? Was he so desperate for vengeance that a couple of death eaters seemed equal to the lives of his loved ones?
Where was his strength now!? Where were his plans!?
He had felt so ready for this challenge, just this morning. His power was unquestionably higher than most Lvl 6 duelers, his knowledge—while still lacking in specific areas, was more than enough to debate any Hogwarts student. His physique was supreme, and his mind sharp as a razor.
He had been so confident that this will all work out. Now? Now it all felt like arrogance. Arrogance born out of ignorance.
And the only thing more dangerous than ignorance in the world is arrogance.
"Never again." He hissed out, spittle and sweat flying out of his mouth as he roared himself back to his feet, the flickering shield—while on the verge of collapse still—more than enough to guard his path forward.
The look of astonishment on his enemies would've been worth celebrating, had his entire world not depended upon the pale blue shield in front of him.
15 feet, 14 feet, 13, 12, 10…
'Almost there.' Victory clawed at his chest as his enemies desperately cast away, still rooted on their spot. They didn't know what he was about to do, but his eyes and roars must've shaken them badly enough to twist their faces into grimaces of trepidation.
'Almost ther—!?'
A streak of light flew past him like thunder suddenly, startling all four duelists. It was aimed at the female one, who ducked under it with a curse….
'What?' Harry blinked, stupefied.
And then came the true attack. A flaming phoenix made completely of fire glided over his head—across the horizon—warming the cool night in its lonesome.
His opponents didn't just stand there gaping like inexperienced children. They burst into a practical formation at once; the woman disengaging from the other two to defeat the Phoenix with a wave of gushing water.
This was his chance. With the woman —fastest caster of the three—gone, the pressure was let up considerably. He could try to dodge and roll away now, could try to escape his cage…
'Hold.' His mind whispered, the strategist coming out as it surveyed the situation.
And he waited.
Like a cracked glass being reverse-timed, the shield stopped flickering and the cracks healed themselves. With the woman not pressuring him, his magic was strong enough to defend against two opponents. Those two kept firing spells after spells with desperate zeal, but his magic stood as strong as ever.
'…Just a sec…'
The Phoenix was powerful, but the woman was skilled enough to distract its caster with an offhand spell in the middle as water and fire fought for supremacy. And as the Phoenix lost its constant supply of magic, water won—washing away the flames back where they came from.
'Now!'
The moment he was sure he wouldn't be caught up in the clash, he let go of the shield and with his Occlumency focused entirely on one single thing: he concentrated.
For one brief moment time almost seemed to slow down. He could see the woman now turning towards him—her wand raised to renew the pressure, he could see the succession of spells already heading towards him—the other two enemies not stopping one bit…
And he burst into motion.
His hand moved faster than they ever have, his wand dancing through the air like lightning. A small pointed shield at its tip took form once again and accurately struck back each of the incoming spells in three directions.
5 spells in total had headed his way, all were hit back towards his opponents as he leapt away from his position. Two headed for the woman, two headed for Mathew, and one for Krafft. The woman formed a shield in an instant, while Mathew threw himself to the ground with a startled yell, too close to Harry to do anything. Only Krafft—now much less dexterous than the two—was hit successfully, his wand leaping out of his fingers.
And as the one-handed wizard scrambled for his wand in alarm, Harry closed in on Mathew.
"Avada Kedavra!" Came Krafft's yell.
Harry picked up Mathew like a shield and faced the spell. The man gave a startled yell but could do nothing as certain death hit him right in the stomach.
Moving forward quickly, he threw the limp body towards Krafft, eliciting a squeak. Out of the corner of his eyes, he saw his mysterious allies having closed the distance and taking advantage of the chaos, disarm the woman.
Harry surged forward, his hands clamping upon Krafft; one stopped his wand from rising and the other squeezed his throat.
Wide eyes stared at him in fear and breathlessness as he choked out. "Please..."
"You should've died way earlier." And with a twist of his wrist, Harry broke the man's neck, his body going slack in an instant.
With a bitter snort, he threw away the dead body, glancing to the last remaining member of the trio. She was quite pretty he realized; short shoulder-length hair and soft, perfectly oval face. Even on her knees, with hands tightly bound in heavy ropes and smudges of dirt marring her face, her beauty managed to shine through.
And yet, she was but a mere peasant compared to the breathtaking beauty standing beside her.
"We apologize for ze delay, Mr. Potter." Apolline Delacour said, her sinful voice a stark contrast between the destroyed lands.
Relief spread through his chest at the familiar voice, his tense body relaxing down as he took a breather.
Though along with relief mingled a hint of...annoyance.
Harry nodded, glancing up at her. "I guessed it would be you. I thought I told you to leave?"
"You will find Mr. Potter, zat we are quite a stubborn lot." The woman gave him a grin that at any other time would've looked the most beautiful thing he had ever witnessed.
As it was, he simply grew more irritated.
The grin died down slowly, growing uncertain and hesitant. "You…are not happy to see us."
No, he was not. Even knowing how stupidly irrational it was to delay here, he couldn't help but feel her timely help had made him fail.
'Couldn't even deal with three wizards on your own now, could you?' A dark voice gnawed inside him. 'And you think you can save them from Voldemort!?'
He closed his eyes, feeling stupid at his thoughts. Her help has just saved him a ton of time and extra effort. Could he have won the fight on his lonesome? Perhaps. Most likely. But there was also a chance of failure, and it would've no doubt taken more of his time.
A time he couldn't afford to waste. His pride and insecurity could wait.
"Thank you." He finally replied, opening his eyes to nod at the woman tiredly.
"It is no problem." The woman smiled again, though noticeably smaller. Perhaps he hadn't managed to hide his annoyance as well as he thought. "We would be true cowards to let you fight for us alone. Gabrielle, the small one, is at your safe house. But we had a duty to stay."
'We?' He mind clocked the word finally.
He stared further back, and there she was; a silver goddess, her platinum blonde hair swaying lightly from the wind. "Fleur."
Her face was drenched in sweat as she approached them slowly. Like a magnet upon metal, his voice attracted her attention with a sudden snap, and with a wide smile quite similar to Lily, she exclaimed, "Arry!"
With a chuckle, he faced back ahead, approaching the kneeling woman who was oddly silent—refusing to even look at him.
"Well then…let's talk." His hand clamped down upon her slender neck. She turned to him slowly, and he realized for the first time why she wouldn't look at him. Fear. Pure, unadulterated fear clawed in her eyes as she her eyes shakily met his.
"Everything you know." He smiled, white teeth gleaming under the fire's glare. "And make it quick."
AN: And we are done! A really massive chapter this one, definitely the biggest for this story.
So, what are your thoughts? Hope Tonks pov wasn't too annoying. It was a lot of monologuing but hopefully it was interesting enough. And it had to be done, to improve upon her shallow character in chapter 12. When I'd written that I hadn't known that Tonks was going to be a permanent addition. Now that she is though, she'll need some character development and depth.
Unfortunately, that takes away from action scenes. Though I do have to progress the story, so can't afford to write a full chapter worth of dueling anyway.
Now, the last chapter had pretty divided opinions, with many hating the fact that Harry didn't instantly demolish his opponents and had to struggle. Those people likely hated this chapter much more (considering Harry struggles even further) but I really couldn't give a shite. Him having his arse handed to him by Bella should've told you that it's not gonna be a god-like Harry fic. I'll sum up most of your complains into this one review given by Bostonette.
"Keeping with most of what other readers have noticed (thankfully)… this was an awful chapter from the point of leaving the Delacour family onward. "Smart, witty, veteran, and cruel harry"? I don't fucking think so. We now have a cocky, useless underpowered teenager playing the hero, and fighting against people he should be annihilating or at the minimum outmatching without much problem. Do not ruin this further by him being subservient or brow beaten by anyone in the future."
So, if you are still confused I'll spell it out for you: Fuck off...
Yeah, fuck off. Leave your 'Shitty chapter' comments and fuck off. Really can't deal with your BS. You don't want a competent Harry fic, you want an OP-Harry-from-the-start fic, and this ain't it.
...,,
...
Now for those who are still here, I'll clarify some things about the last chapter's fight.
First, why didn't Harry just start attacking while he was hidden from his enemies? Because he knows there's a thing called Magical sensing that opponents at Auror level and above are pretty good at. A single missed spell and he would've lost his advantage. My first scene was actually like this: Harry giving into his old instincts of instantly killing his opponents and launching a spell, but instead gets detected, his spell blocked, and starts a full 1v3 match, with all three at their top shape. I eventually went with my version though cause this one just seemed bland.
It was my fault for not clarifying this in the last chapter, and I apologize if his decision seemed nonsense. I've now corrected the issue, though just know that magical sensing is going to soon become a massive thing for the story.
The only thing that Harry did which is utterly stupid in the last chapter was to prepare for a fair fight against Krafft. But whenever I write Harry's character I take Sly-Harry's passive one in the mix. So basically, if both the Harrys want something common, they're likely to try and get it. In this case, you have an experienced Harry who has improved a ton over a short amount of time, and has no idea how actually strong he is. Then you have Sly-Harry who is even more excited to test his strength, cause for him the current Harry is literally the strongest wizard he's ever witnessed personally.
Of course, I shouldn't have to spell it out here, and should've added this in the chapter, which is totally my fault. The thing is, I actually had a full monologue written for Harry's internal struggle, but it just seemed so out of place in a fight scene that I ended up scrapping the entire paragraph. Though I still should've clarified this better, and could've definitely fleshed it out more. And for that I apologize.
But you lot need to understand that I write every freaking chapter in 3 days time. I have two more stories on-going, and I update each one in rotation, forcing myself to write at least 2k words each day (most of the times even more). So expecting a perfect chapter from me is, I'm sorry to say, probably impossible. At least, not without doing some changes in my schedule.
Finally, for anyone who still has any doubts, this is a purely wish-fullfillmenty fic. But, I'm doing my best to weave it around an exciting plot and make it at least a bit realistic. But eventually, Harry will end up god-like, surpassing Voldemort by a mile, and he will end up banging most of the hot chicks in this world (smut will pick up a lot after world cup arc), just that it will be slow and unrushed (you should still expect him to be around Grindelwald's level by the end of his 4th year).
So if you're here to see him take down Grindelwald in this very arc, then this fic is not for you. But if you're here to see him progressing until he can juggle Grindelwald and Voldemort with one hand tied behind his back, then this is the fic for you. Oh, along with plenty of smut of course. Can't forget that.
Anyway, that's all for today. Hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I'll see you lot in the next one!
Till then, goodbye and take care!
My discord: discord .gg/9wpfysDGsz to discuss fics and chill.
My Pat reon: www. Pat reon com/ Robs511 (No spaces and a dot before com) for anyone who wants to read upto the next three chaps of all my fics.
P.S: Next chapter (for MS) is on 8th April, not 7th. And the next chapter for SOW will be released on 13th.