Chapter IV
"Tom Riddle? I don't recognize that name."
Tom offered a charming smile, extending his hand towards Neville. "I'm a halfblood. My father was a muggle, but I assure you that my comrades and I are as dedicated to returning Magical Britain to British rule as anyone."
"You certainly keep interesting company, Mr. Riddle," Sirius commented, approaching the two. "Wizengamot Lords, Death Eaters, and halfbloods, all under the same banner?"
Riddle inclined his head. "You must be Lord Black. You are correct; we are a diverse group. A sign, surely, of the common cause that every wizard and witch on these Isles share."
Neville raised his wand, pointing it at him. "What are you doing? Stop that!" One of Riddle's followers was walking amongst the wounded, the Killing Curse flashing from his wand, executing the wounded that had survived the battle.
"Stay your wand."
"You're just killing them. They're defenseless!"
"But they have seen us. Any survivors would certainly report what occurred here today. To let them live would only end our resistance the moment it has begun."
Neville didn't lower his wand. "That's not the way we're resisting. We're better than that."
Riddle eyed the teen, cognizant of the peculiar magic he'd seen the young man wield only minutes before. "Your resolve is admirable, though - and I intend no offense - it would seem that your tactics left you on defeat's doorstep before my men and I arrived. Surely you see that we are stronger together than apart?"
Sirius put a restraining hand on Neville's shoulder, as though to remind him of the situation they were in. "We may struggle for the same result, but I won't be party to this."
"That's a shame. Someone of your peerage and power would do well in my ranks."
"Let's go, Neville. Remus already took Lee for treatment; we should check in on him and Tonks, and discuss what happened here."
Neville slowly lowered his wand. "Riddle, right?" Tom nodded. "I'm surprised a halfblood would be so focused on a dogma that's kept your kind downtrodden. We're not fighting to restore the dominance of purebloods. Heritage isn't important."
"Then what are you fighting for?"
"Freedom." He turned to Sirius. "I'm ready."
They vanished with a crack, and Tom pondered the appearance of another rebel group, one that - despite their inferior numbers - had capable fighters and information sources that matched his own. He'd need to take their existence into account in his future plans.
Rookwood approached him, speaking quietly so that none of the others could hear. "It is done, milord. Is there anything left to do here? The Americans will certainly send someone soon to determine the fate of their assault party."
"Return to my home. Nott is entertaining someone there, a survivor from the attack. Keep her company; I have one more task to accomplish before I will meet you there."
"I live to serve." He vanished without another word.
Riddle approached the body of Amelia Bones, waving his wand to repair the tears and burns in her robes from spell damage. Lifting her up, he cast a strong Notice-Me-Not Charm around himself before apparating to the entrance of Knockturn Alley.
Upon arrival, he quickly conjured an altar, placing Bones' body upon it, transfiguring the stone structure with delicate, inlaid decorations of flowers surrounding her family crest. That task accomplished, he traced words with his wand, his message appearing in mid-air above the altar, spelled out in letters formed of fire.
Dropping the Notice-Me-Not, he finally apparated away as townspeople stepped closer, drawn by the sudden spectacle in the center of the street.
'Here lies Amelia Bones, murdered in her home by our foreign oppressors. She will be the last. We will not relent. Our struggle begins.'
"Come, I will show you to your quarters."
Susan tried to control her trembling but failed. She was terrified; she recognized Octavius Nott and remembered well what he'd done to Harry's mother. "Why have you taken me here? Please, I won't tell anyone, just let me go and-"
Nott opened a door to a bedroom. "This is your room." Susan had to resist the urge to pull her robes tighter around herself as his eyes raked up and down her body. "Our Lord will return soon. Perhaps you should take that time to make yourself presentable."
As soon as the door closed, Susan spun in place, sighing when a gong rang throughout the manor. She'd expected there to be wards in place but had to try anyway. Looking out the window, she quickly threw away any thoughts of leaping to safety; even if she were not with child, the height would have intimidated her. Investigating her surroundings, she looked over the room. It was old-fashioned in decor, but luxurious in trappings.
What had become of her aunt? Why were Americans invading her home? And what would happen to her, now that Death Eaters had her?
The lock on the door clicked and it swung open. Walking inside, Tom Riddle approached her, eyeing her with curiosity. "Susan Bones, is it? I've heard some very interesting things from my followers regarding your choice of company."
"I don't know who you are, but please, I've done nothing to you."
Tom smiled, though what should have been charming instead appeared terrifying. "I don't understand your suspicion. My men and I saved you from certain death, after all. Have you not been treated well?"
"I-, I just want to go home."
His smile disappeared. "Susan, I wish that I did not come bearing bad news, but you should know: your aunt did not survive the attack. Her death is a great loss not only to you but all of Magical Britain."
The news shook her but only served to confirm her suspicions based on what she'd seen and heard at the manor. She'd have time to mourn her aunt later, once she was sure that she and her child were safe. "What will you do with me? Who are you?"
"I told you before - my name is Tom Riddle. As for what to do with you, well," he seemed to ponder the question, stroking his chin as though deep in thought. "I suppose that depends on how cooperative you prove to be."
"What do you mean?"
"Rookwood tells me that you are close to Harry Potter. Does he speak the truth?"
"Harry? Yes, but I don't know where he is. No one does."
Tom stepped closer, invading her personal space, and leaning in. "I am not concerned with that. Tell me, though - what do you know of how he defeated Lord Voldemort?"
She took an involuntary step backwards, her back pressed flush against the wall behind her. "I don't know anything. I wasn't there!"
"That's a shame. Rumor has it that Lord Voldemort was the strongest Dark Lord in history. Surely this Potter boy, to have vanquished him at such a young age, must be an extraordinary wizard."
"Are- are you a Death Eater?"
"I am not. See?" Raising his sleeve, he displayed the bare, unmarked skin of his forearm. "I merely seek to learn more about our nation's…savior."
"I already told you, I don't know anything."
"Don't sell yourself short, my dear. There's no need for secrets. I saved your life, after all."
His face only inches away from her own, Susan closed her eyes and turned her head to the side. "Please, just let me go."
Riddle abruptly stepped back. "I see you've made up your mind," She hesitantly opened her eyes in disbelief as he continued, "That's a shame; I do pride myself on treating my guests with hospitality. Legilimens."
Susan gasped in pain, her mind feeling like it was being cleaved in two. Riddle's presence pored over her memories, summoning her experience with Dumbledore inside of his pensieve. She relived every terrifying moment of Harry's torture at Voldemort's hands, of his desperate gambit that ended the Dark Lord. Riddle pressed deeper, seeking out other memories of Harry's power at work; finding none, he settled for her own experiences with him.
It felt like it went on for hours. When Riddle finally withdrew from her mind, Susan collapsed to the wooden floor, sobbing in agony, blood streaming from her nose. "P-please… please no m-more…"
She felt arms around her, helping her off the floor and over to the bed. "I-I'm sorry." Riddle's voice sounded as shaky as her own. "I wish it hadn't come to that. Rest assured that your every need will be met during your recovery."
Susan tried to open her eyes, but the double-vision made her nauseous as he went on. "I'll have one of my servants bring you a Pain-Relieving Pot- well. No, I suppose I won't. After all," he said, some of that menacing charm returning to his voice, "We wouldn't want to give you anything that might endanger Harry Potter's child, now would we?"
Her only response was to sob even harder.
Senio unlocked the door to his room at the Leaky Cauldron with a casual wave of his wand, glancing up to see who entered. "Ah, Commander, did your aurors discover anything?"
The officer in command of the 7th Auror's Brigade stalked inside. "Just what the hell are we doing here? I was told to deploy to Great Britain to seal any breaches to the Statute; my forces are not combat-ready. Hell, half of the 7th is made up of kids right out of Ilvermorny! They enlist to fulfill their service year, not to fight a gods-be-damned war!"
"What are you talking about?"
"Twenty-five aurors. Twenty-five, dead! The MACUSA hasn't suffered a defeat of this magnitude since the war against Grindelwald!"
"I don't understand; there was an attack? Where did this take place?"
The American paced back and forth in the contained room. "At Bones Manor. None of the aurors deployed for the raid checked in; when I sent reinforcements to learn what the delay was, they reported that the entire assault force was dead."
"I see," Senio mumbled in reply, mind racing. "Perhaps Potter was there, after all."
"I'm not so sure. Madam Bones' body was discovered in Knockturn Alley less than an hour ago. There was a message, written in flames above her; a message calling for resistance to our 'occupation' of Britain. This isn't what my government sent me here for!"
Senio stood from his desk, his expression implacable in the face of the auror commander's anxiety. "Your government sent you to safeguard magic's secret. If the people of this country are so determined to protect the greatest threat to the Statute since Grindelwald, then you and your men will have to respond accordingly."
"Are you hearing me? Is there a language barrier at work here? I told you, my forces aren't capable of waging a war!"
"They are aurors, are they not? We'd all rather be obliviating muggles, but circumstances occasionally necessitate a stronger response."
The American spat on the floor. "Fuck you. I'll be contacting the Magical Congress about this. Find someone else to pick up the blood tab." He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.
Senio rolled his eyes. 'How childish' As though a concept as grand as the Statute of Secrecy could be maintained for centuries without sacrifice. He paid no heed to the threats of withdrawal; the Magical Congress was ironclad in their support of the mission, their decades of crying wolf at the constant threat of breaches ensured that their domestic political balance was dependent on fully committing to maintaining the same balance that the Confederation worked to secure.
Still, this new threat was not one to take lightly. He honestly had not thought that a nation that had endured the sort of bloodletting Great Britain had, for generations, would be so willing to plunge headlong into yet another conflict. It was more than oversight, he realized; in fact, it was a foolish mistake. After all, the strongest metals were tempered in the hottest flames.
The British could have this victory. In the end, it only made his job that much easier. After all, up to this point, he'd had to play nice, make appeals based on law and order. If they wanted a fight, well, he would be only too happy to oblige. Turning to the fireplace, he tossed a pinch of Floo powder and called out, "Department of Magical Law Enforcement."
Stepping through the green flames, Senio strode purposefully through into the holding cells within the DMLE, ignoring the guard stationed outside and walking right into the nearest cell.
Thaddeus Perrault looked up to see who had entered, and immediately without a word spoken, instantly faced a legilimency attack. Senio ripped into the man's mind, digging for the memory of his last contact with Potter, reading the letter through Perrault's eyes detailing the young man's decision to travel to the Continent and confront the Sibittu.
The middle-aged publisher seized up as his magical vow took its toll, foaming at the mouth before collapsing limply to the floor of the cell. Senio smoothed his robes and turned as nonchalantly as he entered, leaving Perrault's corpse where it lay as he departed the DMLE the same way he'd entered.
Returning to the desk in his room at the Leaky, he began to draft a report to the ICW. They needed to know what had taken place, not only to ensure that the Americans did not lose their resolve but also to send more reinforcements. That intransigent worm in France, Delacour, had been itching for action. Perhaps they could pull additional forces from across the Channel.
As he inked his quill, though, he felt a familiar pull in his mind; another of the Nine had summoned the Umbra for a conference. Relaxing his consciousness, the room drifted away into darkness and he submerged himself into the grip of shadow.
"You saved me the use of another candle; I have news."
"In due time, Senio; Tris called this meeting, allow her to proceed."
A feminine figure, the only one not draped in darkness acknowledged Unus' words with a nod. "Potter has been spotted. We received a report from the Egyptians tasked with subduing the demons that have invaded Europe."
"He is on the Continent?"
She nodded. "Indeed. He interfered with their battle, and slew half of the force they sent. The Egyptian Ministry has refused to send additional wizards until he has been dealt with."
"They dare…?!"
"Tuor, calm yourself. The Confederation needs the expertise of the Egyptians to deal with these monstrosities. Besides, eliminating Potter was our mission, to begin with, was it not?" 'Trust Unus to keep him in line' Senio thought in amusement. "What was Potter doing at the site of the battle, to begin with? Could he be controlling these demons in some way?"
"If I may," Senio interjected, "That seems unlikely. Potter told his publisher that he planned to defeat these demons, though his motivation to do so remains unknown."
"The Egyptians report that he was in the company of an unknown female, as well as Albus Dumbledore."
There were sharp gasps from several of the Nine. "Dumbledore? Does his betrayal know no end?"
Tris waited for the murmurs to quiet. "Need I remind you that our time together is limited? What is to be done?"
Unus responded, speaking slowly as he laid out a plan of action. "If Dumbledore and Potter have joined forces, confronting them directly could well be a catastrophe. They are two of the most powerful wizards alive at the moment. I will work on a plan to isolate the boy. Novem, you are to follow the demons' advance. If Potter truly seeks them out, kill him when he appears. Do what you can about the demonic threat, but the boy remains our priority."
Novem signaled his understanding, and Tris spoke again. "Senio, what news from Great Britain?"
"The local population continues to struggle against our authority. An ambush, resulting in the deaths of twenty-five aurors, took place earlier today. I plan to request reinforcements from other member-states in order to quell this uprising."
"Do you need one of us to join you?" That eager offer came from Quinctus; always looking for a fight, that one.
"That's not necessary. If Potter is indeed on the Continent, though, I believe that it may be time to test out some of Octava's research."
Her lithe shadow, heretofore silent perked up at his comment. "The Blockade? We've never tested it."
Unus chuckled in a rare show of mirth. "Of course not; how could we? Senio is right. If Potter should elude Novem, we will need a failsafe."
Tris' form dimmed and the other shadows dulled, losing focus. The Lux Conventus was nearly extinguished. "What benefit will such action bring, if Potter is not currently in Great Britain?"
"Octava?"
"It's a trap; we set it and wait for him to stumble into it."
"Again, why would he? He must know we seek him out."
Their voices were fading, but Unus' final comment came through. "We simply need the right bait. Turn up the heat, Senio, find us the leverage we need."
He opened his eyes, staring at the stain on the blank parchment in front of him where ink had dripped from his quill. Senio smiled; things were looking up. With a little luck and a bit of unsavoriness, he'd be out of this backwater island and back in Switzerland before the leaves changed.
By the time that Lee Jordan was stabilized and Tonks' jaw had been set, night had long since fallen. McGonagall had summoned Madam Pomfrey from Hogwarts, and a room at the Hogs Head was transformed into a makeshift infirmary to treat the injured members of their team.
Neville, Sirius, and Remus sat with Aberforth and McGonagall, discussing the events of that afternoon and the appearance of the other rebel group.
"And you're certain he said his name was Tom Riddle?"
Neville nodded. "That's what he said. Claimed to be a half-blood, that his father was muggleborn."
"Not muggleborn," Remus corrected, "A muggle."
Her expression shifted from intrigued to confused. After a moment of quiet, Remus asked, "Have you heard of him?"
"There was a Tom Riddle that was Head Boy in my Sixth Year. He was a Slytherin, one of Slughorn's favorites; I don't know what became of him after graduation, though."
Remus and Neville hesitated, mentally doing the math, but Sirius predictably showed no worries about being tactful. "He looked a little younger than Tonks, no way was he in school with you! Maybe the Tom Riddle that you knew is this one's grandfather?"
McGonagall rolled her eyes. "More likely he is lying about his heritage. Or perhaps he is someone else entirely, and merely assumed Riddle's identity."
"It would explain why he was so impressed by our bloodlines," Neville noted.
"And why Rookwood was accompanying him," Sirius added.
Remus pointed out that several members of Riddle's group were related to Lords within the Conservative faction, which led to a retelling of the sequence of events for McGonagall's benefit. Through it all, Neville sat quietly contemplating the battle and the confrontation that followed.
"Something on your mind, Nev?"
"I hadn't thought we'd need to worry about fighting anyone but the Americans. I… it's just hard to believe that after everything that's happened, we still have to face enemies among our own people."
"Let's not get ahead of ourselves. We don't know that we'll be fighting Riddle and his men."
"They were killing prisoners!"
"And?" Sirius challenged, "I'm not saying that we join up with him, but distasteful as it sounds, he was right. There's, what, a dozen of us total? More than twice that number showed up to mount an assault on one woman. Riddle was right - if we'd allowed them to report the battle to their superiors, our resistance would be over and we'd all be in prison. At best!"
McGonagall scowled but it was Neville who responded. "You're wrong. We could have obliviated them, captured them and held them prisoner with the Draught of Living Death, locked them up in some heavily warded area after they'd been disarmed. It's one thing to kill a man in battle; it's an entirely different circumstance to murder someone at your mercy."
"Nobler words were never spoken," McGonagall murmured proudly. "You three should head home; I'll remain and keep Poppy company, but we should limit our appearances together for the time being."
Remus went outside to apparate to his home, while Neville and Sirius walked to the Floo together. "Has Luna improved at all?"
"No," Sirius responded. "I don't know what to do, honestly. If I'd have known that Harry leaving would have this effect on her, I would have fought harder to keep him here."
"Maybe I could drop by on my way home? Just to say hi, show her a friendly face for a bit?"
"I know Tori would appreciate that. I just hope Luna will, too."
Astoria was, in fact, pacing in front of the fireplace already when they emerged at Tonks' flat. "Where have you been? I've tried to reach you everywhere!"
"What's wrong?"
"It's Luna. She's gone!"
July 30, 1996
"How are you feeling?"
Daphne blinked, her thousand-yard stare evaporating as she focused in on him. "Fine."
Harry nodded, seemingly content not to pry. Daphne was appreciative, but at the same time wished that he'd press. She'd been struggling with the trauma of having taken a man's life during the battle with the Egyptians. Technically, it was not her first 'kill', but Erra had been a being of such unmitigated evil that - even now, knowing he'd possessed the body of Harry's muggle friend - it was hard to think of him as a human.
The Egyptian wizard, however, the one she'd impaled with her conjured sword, was not so easily brushed aside. She glanced side-eyed at Harry, who was changing the bandage on his forearm. The scarab beetles, and his crude method of removing them from his arm, had done quite a bit of damage to the tissue. Between Dumbledore and his own knowledge of Healing spells (and how she wished that Hogwarts offered instruction in that branch of magic!), they'd treated the worst of the damage, but he'd still benefit from a visit to a licensed, practicing healer.
'I wonder if it was like this for him, his first time' she thought idly. Did he have nightmares, too? How many did he have to kill before he stopped feeling the guilt, the remorse? If she were being honest with herself, Daphne wasn't sure that she wanted to find out.
She was pulled out of her thoughts yet again when Harry suddenly stood, his arm properly wrapped. "I don't know about you, but I've had enough waiting."
"But, Dumbledore said-"
"I know. But I didn't think he'd be gone for more than a day. We know that the next of the Seven is close, and heading this way." Dumbledore had received a letter from 'a friend' a week after their last engagement, containing a portkey and an offer for information and instruction about a possible method of dealing with one of the three remaining Sibittu. "I'm not saying we fight it on our own, but would it really hurt to gather some information? Find out what we'll be facing when he returns?"
"I don't know…"
He was quiet for a moment in the face of her reticence. "You can stay here, you know."
"Absolutely not! No way are you going to leave me in the middle of Hungary while you're off monster hunting!"
Judging by Harry's grin, that was the predicted response. "Okay then. C'mon!" He wrapped an arm around her and she felt the familiar sensation of being squeezed through a tube.
They apparated twice more, from town to town, making their way east of Budapest, where Dumbledore had left them. On the third apparition, they found their mark. Arriving outside of a town lit up with the lights of emergency vehicles and trucks weighed down with the number of the dead, it was obvious that something terrible had happened.
"It looks like it's already passed through here," she mumbled, eyes locked on the seemingly endless row of bodies lined up, waiting for transport. "There's so many…"
"I can't see any marks on them. Which do you think was responsible for this?"
"Hold on, give me a minute." She dug out her trunk, unshrinking it and withdrawing what looked like a telescope welded to a pair of binoculars. "Here, let's take a look."
"What is that thing?"
"Omniculars." Her voice quieted, memories around this particular pair coming to mind. "My father got them for me, when he took Tori and I to see the Tutshill Tornados. Here, adjust them with this dial, right there."
Harry accepted them, awkwardly trying to peer through with his glasses still on. "Hold on, just wait a sec'," she said, allowing him to lower the omniculars before removing his glasses. "Try it now."
He focused on the bodies, trying to identify a cause of death. "It looks like- a lot of them don't seem to have any injuries." Moving the omniculars down the row of bodies, he went on. "I don't know what it was."
Daphne accepted the omniculars back, taking a look for herself. "Well, of the three left, which do you think is responsible?"
"Can't be the Rot of Decay, and I always imagined that the Berserker's Frenzy would be a bit more flashy. That leaves the Immeasurable Depth."
"How close are we to Budapest?" If it had done this much damage to a town, what would happen if it arrived in the densely populated capital?
"Maybe sixty miles?" She replaced the omniculars and shrunk her trunk, pocketing it as a determined look came over his features. "Let's try and figure out how fast it's moving."
With a reluctant nod, she stepped closer and they apparated away.
Had they lingered for a few moments longer, they might have seen the emergency workers suddenly stiffen, abandoning their tasks and tearing into each other like rabid animals. Punching, kicking, clawing, bludgeoning, stabbing; the town filled with cries of rage and screams of pain as the survivors of the Depth's assault savagely killed each other with whatever instruments were at hand.
Through it all, a faint crimson outline of a skeletal griffon floated through the town, swiftly heading to the north-east.
It took three more apparitions before they found it. Appearing on a small hill outside of the village of Mikebuda not even fifty miles from Budapest, the most immediate observation that came to Harry was the muted sounds in the village below. People were screaming, fleeing in a panic from a tightly coiled black mass that seemed to absorb not just all light, but sound as well. Those that it touched collapsed, grasping their throats and falling silent in a matter of seconds.
Harry's sonorous-enhanced voice boomed out, urging everyone to run and take shelter, but what should have been an echoing announcement fell flat in the void of the Depth. She could feel him tensed next to her, the rising pressure of his magic raising all of the hair on the back of her neck. "I can't watch this!"
"We shouldn't- Dumbledore will be back soon, we should wait-" but even as she said it, she knew they would intervene.
It was a small child, a girl no older than six years old, that pushed him over the edge. Her parents, cognizant of the danger that they were unable to see, pushed her into a small gap beneath a set of concrete steps, out of the way of the rush of terrified villagers. Seconds later, the Depth consumed them, their bodies falling inert to the ground, lips tinged blue.
Harry disappeared a moment later, the crack of his disapparition swallowed up by the formless Sibittu. Ignoring the fear pooling in her stomach, Daphne took off running towards the village after him.
Banishing several people backward, further away from the oncoming demon, Harry held out his hand, feeling his magic respond to his will. Dazzling white flames shot forward in a straight line towards the monster, but vanished immediately upon contact, without even a wisp of smoke. It was as though the fire disappeared.
He next raised a wall in its path, attempting to enclose it and prevent its advance. Instead, it seeped through the solid stone, flowing with a strange liquidity through the walls, reforming on the other side and ceaselessly continuing towards him.
It was approaching. Holding both hands in front of him, he yelled out the Iriquois incantation for wind, his voice swallowed up entirely by his proximity to the Depth. Gusts of air rushed out, intensifying into hurricane-strength as he poured more and more energy into the spell. Despite windows shattering and, in one unfortunate case, the roof of a building blowing off in huge pieces of debris, his magic had no effect at all.
Harry cut out the spell, pausing to banish more civilians out of its path as the Immeasurable Depth proceeded down the main street of Mikebuda. Fire and air were ineffective; it had no physical form so his stone conjurations would be a waste of energy 'How do I fight this thing?' Raising both of his hands, palms up, a huge wall of water appeared in front of him, jets firing out and freezing as they shot towards the Sibittu, a volley of dozens and dozens of ice spears rocketing out.
The most peculiar thing happened; the ice, upon impacting the Depth stopped, suspended in mid-air within the velvety darkness. They held there, like a strange demonic pincushion until, after five to ten seconds had passed, they evaporated without a hint of steam or a droplet of water. Instead, unlike the fire the evaporating ice smoked. He'd read about a reaction similar to this… but where?
A hand on his shoulder pulled him out of his racing thoughts, and he turned to meet Daphne's wide violet eyes. Together, they retreated, Daphne conjuring iron blades that passed through the Depth as though it weren't there, and orange flames (considerably weaker than his own) that sputtered out the same as his own had. They ran, stopping across the street from the village's church.
"Do you have any ideas?"
Harry's eyes were locked further down the street, on the young girl who had crawled out of her hiding place, shaking the bodies of her parents, her cries of "Apa! Anya!" whisper-quiet within the Sibittu's dampening effect.
"I think- I think it's a vacuum of some kind. It would explain why my ice evaporated so quickly, why the fire was immediately extinguished."
"So what do we do?"
"I don't know!" He glanced at her, then at the approaching demon. "Run - I'll think of something."
"Run?! But-"
He stepped out into the street, placing himself directly in the Depth's path. "I said I'll think of something! Just go!"
Harry didn't hear any further arguments, grateful that for once she had listened to him. He ran through everything he knew about vacuums, but the plain truth was that reading introductory physics and chemistry textbooks didn't offer any strategies that could be employed in this situation.
"Solaris Calorum!"
A massive beam of light, a foot taller than Harry and twice as wide careened down from above, slicing into the Sibittu. Everywhere that the beam touched, the demon dissolved, disintegrating into nothing. Silence - but this time, natural - descended upon the village.
Turning around and looking up, Harry ground his teeth together as he took in the sight of a man on the church roof, clad in black robes with his hood drawn up, wand pointed directly at him. Next to him, propped up against the steeple wearing all of the tell-tale signs of a Full Body-Bind Curse, was Daphne.
"Who are you?"
"It is irrelevant," he said, in a deep, accented voice. "All that you need to know is that I am the last person that you will ever see. Solaris Calorum!"
The beam of light that had destroyed the Sibittu again fired, following Harry as he jumped to the side, a continuous stream of energy that melted the street and gouged holes in buildings as the unknown wizard directed it with his wand. Rolling to the side, Harry's eyes glimmered and the roof of the church caved in, dropping the man and Daphne into the church.
Harry ran forward in pursuit, raising a hand to blow open the doors of the church when they exploded in his face, launching him backwards as the heavy wooden door slammed into him. An Explosion Hex followed, and he barely had time to transfigure the door on top of him to sandstone, showering him with dust but effectively absorbing the blast.
'Who is this guy?' Whoever he was, his spells were strong and unrelenting as another Explosion Hex detonated against the building he was lying under, a pile of debris breaking off and tumbling down, huge pieces of brick and jagged pieces of wood raining down around him.
A quick transfiguration turned the debris to falcons, which darted into the church, seeking out Harry's opponent. A burst of flame lit the interior of the church, and the man stalked out, his wand outstretched spitting Dark curses, Organ-Rupturing, Blood-Boiling, and Bone-Splintering, all silently cast.
He was good, Harry had to admit, skilled and fast; but he was no Voldemort. After so many years, conjuring and animating iron discs to intercept curses was almost second nature. The man's offensive blunted, Harry took the opportunity to rupture the ground beneath him, a massive fissure more than six feet wide breaking open in the ground, the cracks in the earth already closing as the stranger fell.
But this man was nothing if not adaptable. In mid-air, he twisted, the crack of his apparition clearly enunciated. Harry, though, had learned his lesson against the Egyptians, and apparated himself, appearing on the roof of a house three doors down from the devastated church. The roof began to collapse under the impact of an Explosion Hex, so he apparated again, this time back to the street.
The moment he reappeared, he threw his arms out, his magical shockwave tearing through the street, eliciting yet another apparition from the mysterious man. By now, the townspeople of Mikebuda had begun to emerge from their hiding places, drawn by the staccato cracks from multiple apparitions and the sudden collapse of several buildings. The sight of two men vanishing and reappearing, one waving a stick and the other with metal discs hovering in mid-air in front of him drawing the attention of much of the small village.
"I'd thought that the others had exaggerated when I heard tales of your crimes," the accented voice spoke, seemingly whispered into his ears alone. "But your recklessness truly knows no bounds."
Harry looked around, but there was no sign of the man anywhere, just curious villagers eyeing his robes. He suddenly pitched forward, a Bludgeoning Hex smashing into his side and knocking him to the ground, the green flash of a Killing Curse following immediately after.
Casting an overpowered Banishing Charm on his own robes, Harry was launched to the side as though he were fired out of a cannon, actually going airborne as he flew into an alley between two rowhouses. 'Where is he?' Harry thought, stretching his senses out. There was Daphne, still inside the ruined church, and…
'There!' He sensed the only other magical presence in the hamlet, and immediately swung and pushed at the wall at the end of the alley, blowing the brick apart, the outline of a disillusioned man clearly visible in the resulting cloud of dust. The man shot two Piercing Curses from where he lay on the ground, which Harry easily deflected with conjured materials.
He was going to end this; he was going to end him. Harry stalked forward, effortlessly blocking curses and hexes as he closed in on his attacker, the Disillusionment Charm fading away as his focus was directed towards his offensive.
They both paused, taking notice for the first time as the villagers crowded both ends of the rubble-strewn alley. The man, his hood having fallen after Harry had blasted him through the wall, narrowed his eyes and disappeared with a crack. A half-second after he vanished, Harry felt the familiar sensation of a disapparition jinx settle into place over the village.
"You're running away?!" he shouted out, receiving no response. 'Where was he?'
Harry looked around but was unable to locate his opponent. He made his way back towards the main street, set on finding Daphne and making his way out of the village to rendezvous with Dumbledore. It seemed like a hundred people were crowding the street, most staring at him in shocked silence, a few brave souls murmuring questions in Hungarian that he ignored.
Just as he approached the church, though, a scream sounded. He turned, seeing a half dozen muggles attacking a woman, beating her with punches and kicks until her cries of pain turned into a wet gurgle. More of the villagers were drawn into the fight, grabbing pieces of rubble and bludgeoning each other with pieces of stone.
Pandemonium was breaking out all around him, but his attention was drawn further down the street, where an ethereal presence was drifting down the same street that the Immeasurable Depth had come from. It was shaped like a griffon, but lacked skin or muscle, appearing skeletal in nature, its wings beating a steady rhythm as it slowly made its way through Mikebuda.
His heart beat faster; it was like he'd had a shot of adrenaline injected directly into his body as more and more violence broke out around him. The muggles had lost their minds, attacking each other like- it was almost as though they were…
Understanding dawned on him, while more than a hundred muggles turned as one, their heads swiveling to face him. 'The Berserker's Frenzy!' Hefting their makeshift weapons, the villagers charged.
Harry blasted them back with another magical shockwave, but that only stopped the first wave, their bodies absorbing the energy while those behind them trampled their neighbors with a single-minded concern.
"Stop!" He shouted at them, pleaded with them to no avail.
A conjured wall rose out of the ground in front of him, but the sheer number of muggles pounding against it pitched the stone construct forward, the granite nearly crushing him as it collapsed under the weight of their charge.
His heart beat faster. These stupid muggles! Didn't they know what- he shook his head. Of course they didn't know. Casting another overpowered Banishing Charm on his robes, he shot backwards, away from the crowd that was sprinting towards him. He conjured a wall of flame in front of him, hot enough that anyone that came within five feet of it would blister.
No sooner had the incandescent flames appeared then he fell to the ground, a table leg smashing into the side of his head. He looked up, catching sight with blurry vision of more muggles streaming out of the houses on either side of him, makeshift weapons in their hands.
Blasting them back with another shockwave, his scramble for his glasses was cut short by more cries coming from in front of him. Squinting, he realized that the muggles that he'd thought were blocked by his wall of fire had charged directly into the fire, their immolated corpses piling up on the other side of flames.
Harry yelled in frustration, running forward and casting an Ascending Charm on his boots, the strength of his spell lifting him up over the surviving muggles. A Piercing Curse drilled through his arm, breaking his concentration and interrupting his own charm, dropping him like a stone into the crowd of muggles, now several hundred strong. Apparently the unknown wizard had been waiting!
His heart pounded in his chest, the blood rushing through his veins. The entire village must be surrounding him by now. Harry's patience snapped, his frayed control vanishing in the face of pain and desperation. His aura exploded into being, blowing pieces of rubble outward and knocking back the muggles crowding him.
Putting that buffer to use, a ring of stone spike shot out of the ground, impaling a number of muggles. More climbed over their corpses, continuing their charge, and an explosion of flame reduced them to ash. One of the houses collapsed, the rubble reassembling itself as a golem, beating and pummeling the insane villagers in swaths.
On and on it went, Harry's glowing emerald aura surrounded by crazed muggles. He lost himself to his bloodlust, slaughtering them in dozens, then scores, then hundreds. Despite their madness and crude weaponry, his own injuries continued to pile up.
There were only a handful of surviving muggles. A club came from above, a massive muggle swinging it downward with both hands. The bandages on his forearm transfigured into iron bands, the impact of the club on the thick metal forcing the cudgel from the man's hands.
Harry flung his arm upward in a backhand strike, the metallic bandages knocking several teeth out of the muggle's mouth and propelling him backwards into a set of stone jaws growing out of the street that snapped him in half.
No sooner had he completed that conjuration then he felt a sharp object pierce through his upper thigh. The metallic bandages sprouted jagged spikes and he jabbed his arm outward, feeling the impact of his transfigured weapon on flesh as he turned to confront this final attacker.
The little girl, the one who'd cried over her parents' bodies fell, unmoving, to the ground, and Harry was not far behind her, falling to his knees, surrounded by a veritable mountain of corpses surrounding him. He retched, vomiting what little food he had in his stomach, dry heaves continuing even after he'd expelled everything he'd eaten that day.
His vision was still tinged with red, though whether that was the effect of the Frenzy, or the simply blood dripping into his eyes he couldn't tell. He sought out the Sibittu, realizing it had passed by him several minutes ago and was approaching the edge of the village.
Harry staggered to his feet, his muscles screaming in protest as he leaped into the air, a Banishing Charm carrying him down the street and directly into the spectral griffon. He passed directly through it, collapsing to the concrete below.
'I guess that rules out any direct attacks'
This close, his heart pounded once again, the effects of the Sibittu afflicting him once more. He had to stop it here; this was, without a doubt, the most evil of the Seven. He couldn't let it escape.
'It affects minds, emotions, but spells won't work…'
Perhaps it was a symptom of the Frenzy, but he scarcely hesitated before locking his blurred vision on the phantasmic outline and whispering "Legilimens."
There was no 'mind' to invade, just a surge of emotion washing over him like a tidal wave. Harry focused on feelings of calm, of love, of peace, but failed at each. The truth was, those feelings were corrupted by the tragic endings that accompanied each.
He focused on the feelings of safety and belonging with Norm and Diane, but even now, he had trouble separating memories of them from the hatred and anger over their murders.
He thought of Sam, of the companionship and loyalty, of how he'd rescued him from a life of misery and abuse; but it was Sam who transformed into Erra.
Even Susan, his only experience of romantic love, of wanting and being wanted, brought with it the feeling of her blood dripping down his face, her limp body against his.
Harry was furious, angrier than he'd been since the night he'd ended the Malfoy line. His rage grew and grew, spiraling out of control. His anger transferred to the Frenzy, which in turn magnified its effect on him, the active legilimency connection acting as a sort of mental feedback loop, building and building until the demon, glowing red and vibrating at a tremendous speed, blew apart in a burst of pale red light that washed over Mikebuda.
Novem watched in curiosity as the boy stared into the demon for nearly a minute straight, the being remaining motionless while Potter did… whatever he was doing to it. His eyebrows raised as the spectral glow intensified, strengthening in pulses until it finally exploded. Novem felt his heartbeat speed up as the lingering effect of the demon passed; he steadied his Occlumency barriers and readied his wand.
Somehow, the young man was still standing. Still, judging by the plethora of injuries covering his body, he'd likely fall down dead at a stiff breeze, much less one of Novem's curses. With a silent Arresto Momentum, he stepped off the roof of the building he'd taken cover on, approaching Potter from behind.
He had barely taken his first step towards him when the boy's aura exploded once more, only it had changed. Whereas before the energy that flowed outward from him was a pure green glow, now it was a muddied yellow, the demonic crimson merging with Potter's own emerald aura.
He turned, meeting Novem's stare, and the older man paused involuntarily, taken aback at the fury in his glowing golden irises. 'Impossible… has he been corrupted by the demon?'
His thoughts cut off, though, as Harry shot towards him, the sheer amount of magical energy pouring off of him tearing apart the street and buildings around them as he sailed towards him at a breakneck speed…
A/N: Damn this is a LONG battle! Had to stop, my head is pounding. Horrible headache.
I had a *really* hard time thinking up a way to kill the Berserker's Frenzy, so there's a lot of 'thank-yous' to be said - QuestionableWisdom, darkphoenix, and Eclipse (who made the Mind Arts connection) from SinisterMan's discord server; Nauze with the feedback loop, and UmbramAnimae for emotion aspect. Quite a team effort!
The 'Mikebuda Massacre' was heavily inspired by the church scene in the Kingsmen. I've never actually seen the movie, believe it or not, just that scene.
Agh, had more to say, but this headache is quickly turning to a migraine. Please review if you enjoy!
Up next: Berserker!Harry let's loose. We check in with Luna. Susan's not loving life.
Stay safe, healthy, and happy! ~Frickles
