Strong winds whipped his robes around him as he stood alone at the peak of a mountain. Lights from the city below twinkled in the darkness of the valley.
The impressive glow disappeared from east to west, giving him the signal that his troops were in place to begin. A spark from a wand across the valley signaled the first stage of the attack.
Werewolves came down from the forest in the north, charging into the city to feast and push their prey to the south where caged chariots awaited. Posing as a means of safety from the beasts. Those on brooms blasted trees and structures to block paths to anywhere but the south.
He didn't need his heightened senses to hear the screams and cries of the dying and scared.
As the cages filled, Thestrals took to the skies with riders as escorts. With the last one gone, another spark to the smoke-filled sky signaled those remaining to retreat and for Severus to begin the final stage.
He tilted his head upwards, closing his eyes and whispering, "Mea maxima culpa."
The dark whispers returned in full force. Getting louder and turning into a chant, "Ignis! Mortem!"
Gripping his head with both hands, he tried to shake the inner demon demanding fire and death but was pulled by a force not his own.
His form shifted into a black cloud, shooting high into the sky above the smokey peak. Large black wings expanded once breaking the clouds, and a fierce silhouette of a dragon hovered for a moment in the moonlight.
He dove straight down, wings tucked, gaining rapid speed toward the mountain where he once stood. A burning light ruptured from his throat, aimed straight for the mountain but not changing his course.
His flame and body barreled straight into the crusted surface of the magma. Spews of lava and smoke flew upwards. A rumble from deep within the once-dormant volcano shook the surrounding trees and stone.
He broke through the side of the mountain from within, letting out a terrifying roar as he emerged covered in a liquid fire that rolled off his thick hide. Having built the pressure from within, volcanic rocks and lava traveled in the path of least resistance toward the bottom of the valley.
He circled once, breathing fire to the south and blocking the remaining survivors from escaping to safety. Then his menacing shadow disappeared in the smoke as quietly as he came.
This was only the beginning. By sunrise, most of Iceland was destroyed and its population of muggles was brought to the edge of extinction.
"Sorry," a quiet voice said as they slipped into the office, closing the door quietly behind them.
"About time you showed up," Moody waved his wand, securing the room now the last of his team arrived.
The stacked papers floated and arranged themselves on the chalkboard behind him. Turning around and spotting the Auror slipping into the seat in front of his desk, he flicked his wand and the chair moved across the room, causing him to fall to the floor.
"Longbottom! How many times do I have to tell you, sitting in the middle of the room- "
The other Aurors finished his sentence, "Is a way to get yourself killed."
"But Sir, it's just us and all we do is stand when not doing paperwork," he complained, "We work round the clock."
Moody pointed his wand at one of the Prewitt twins, "Gregory Mathers"
"Died sitting on a bench at the train station."
"To a heart attack!" Longbottom countered.
"Benjamin Arbuckle," pointing to the other.
"Sitting at a quidditch match."
He countered again, "He fell – it was the fall that killed him. They needed safety barriers; he was at the bloody top."
"Leo Barks," Moody kept going around the room.
"Sitting in a library."
"The whole shelf came down, none of these people were attacked."
"Not true, Trevor McDuffie got taken out by an explosion." Another Auror added.
"Sitting too close to the fireworks at the holiday parade. These men weren't killed in action, they were killed by natural selection."
"Which is another enemy," they said in unison.
Pinching the bridge of his nose, put the other hand up and started walking to the edge of the room, "Fine. I'll lean against this wall like a bloody flamingo."
Moody scowled at him but carried on his meeting, "Last night Iceland was attacked. Hundreds of thousands of people are dead or missing."
He paused and looked around the room, "What do we know?"
"Headlines and radios announced them as natural disasters," Longbottom answered.
"What else?" he looked around the room for more answers.
"Immediate evacuation of the country was ordered, and safety camps were set up in neighboring countries."
"Relief campaigns are being set up to aid and medical staff volunteering to transfer and help with the aftermath."
Moody leaned against his desk, "Look closer."
"I'm sorry, boss we don't understand- "
"Look at the targeted population. Muggles! Were any of the magical communities hit? No!" he pointed to the articles before a large map of Iceland floated to the board and covered the news clippings.
"Every volcano in the country suddenly goes active – even the dormant ones. No, no, there's dark magic at play here."
Red markers appeared for the volcanos, black for the destroyed cities, and blue for the magical communities.
"Look here, this one could have hit both towns," he pointed to an area where a magical city was on the opposite side of the mountain, "Yet it only took out the muggle side."
"But the reports say it was the tectonic plates shifting pressure under the country."
"Bollocks! This was done by magic, that much is certain. It's our job to find out if intentional and by whom."
"The Icelandic Ministry took all the proper precautions and investigated the matter thoroughly."
"Did they?" he challenged, "They restricted re-entry of the country to Medical and Ministry only. Coincidence they had been a supporter of Grindelwald and signed the petition to export all muggles to America?"
"You think Iceland destroyed its own country to get rid of muggles?"
"How do people normally deal with pests, Potter? They hire an exterminator."