AN: a bit of a shorter chapter this week, mostly to set the ball rolling. We're advancing towards the end of the journey, as I said some chapters ago.
Anyway, usual disclaimer of not being either J. or and on with the chapter!
CHAPTER 38 – Guerrilla tactics
Exploring the newly rediscovered study took all of a couple of hours, it was just that small. Comprehending what the books they had found actually were about took a lot longer than that, simply because more often than not they were written in Latin, leaving a small fraction in an English so outdated it might have been a different language altogether. Unfortunately for them, despite the fortuitous find, the largest part of the tomes turned out to be either Slytherin's private diaries or the cookbooks in which he registered his attempts at cultivating his real passion. Ron had made a startled, strangled sound when he discovered that the man that in his mind had been the epitome of the Dark wizard had actually been a cook who happened to sell potions on the side. That wasn't to say he hadn't been an exceptional wizard, only that he had wished to be remembered for his shepherd's pies and puddings rather than his discoveries in the fields of herbology or potioneering.
Snape on the other hand had appreciated the possibility to read the journals. He never breached the subject of Chandra's birth parents again though.
It was a treasure trove of knowledge, sure, but nothing useful for the war looming over their heads. Still, it had served in distracting the younger minds from the both Umbridge's takeover and Voldemort's opening moves in the conflict.
Being useless as far as books were concerned, Chandra had taken some of the less academically inclined students and moved to explore and map the web of tunnels that departed from the Chamber's main room. No more ground shaking discoveries were made, but the teens had enjoyed themselves and they had found a way out of the Chamber that didn't include owning a pet phoenix, even if it did lead into the Forbidden Forest.
Once both avenues of passing time and distracting the students had been thoroughly used up though, boredom descended back on the refugees. Each tried to occupy their time as beast as they could under the circumstances, but after around a month spent in the Chamber the first signs of unrest were clear as day.
To avoid any unpleasant snd unnecessary incident, Chandra came up with a new idea:
"Guerrilla tactics?" asked Dumbledore frowning, his voice assuming a hard edge that seldom could be heard from the jolly old man "Didn't I make myself clear when I said I don't want the students to enter the fight? They're far to young to bear such a burden."
"Ok, I admit it sounds bad..." said the pyromancer raising her hands in a placating gesture while privately wondering if he did remember that she wasn't any older than most of them "What I meant was taking small groups of students up in the school via phoenix, play some pranks on Umbridge and her stooges, then get back here. Nothing to do with actual combat, I swear, it's just the name such a tactic would have."
"I see," was all the wizard commented stroking his beard "It would certainly help with some individuals' restlessness..."
"I won't deny I'm getting quite bored in here myself... Never been the kind of person that likes sitting around doing nothing. But this is mostly for the students: some of them are just as restless as me."
"I'll allow this kind of activity," he finally conceded with a deep sigh "But do try not to get our students harmed. They must be kept safe, miss Nalaar, that's my only stipulation."
"Wasn't planning on doing anything else."
The resistance's first venture started during lunch in the defence classroom: Chandra, Tracey Davis and the Weasley twins appeared out of a ball of crimson flames, Featherbright –Hermione's phoenix– landing on the planeswalker's shoulder.
The plan had been kept simple to minimize the danger factor: flame in, throw a portable swamp, rush to the Slytherin common room, gain access if possible, throw another swamp, flame out. Easy as an ornithopter, as Chandra's dad had used to say.
The initial phases went smoothly since, as foreseen, the class had been deserted. The corridors between the classroom and the dungeons were scantly populated, again probably due to the hour, and the only two students they saw were easy to avoid thanks to the Twins' knowledge of the school's secret passageways. The password to the Snakes' Den –Chandra found that Tracy's moniker for her common room was very apt, knowing it housed people like Malfoy– had been changed, so they set the portable swamp in front of the entrance, then left in another ball of flames.
If Pansy was to be believed –and they had no reason to doubt Liliana's little minion– both jokes caused some problems to the faculty, particularly since Flitwick refused to intervene on the basis that he supposedly had batrachophobia and the two swamps were populated with little golems in the guise of newts.
Dumbledore pronounced the first foray a success, and gave them permission to undertake more, but only if the pyromancer carefully planned each incursion and escorted each team. Chandra agreed, even if she left much of the actual planning to the Weasley twins. She was a fighter, not a prankster.
Much like the first –and just a week after it– the second attack went smoothly. Different targets, different actors, and different means, but similar results. And just like with the other, the Weasley twins' joke items proved to be the bane of Umbridge's existence, particularly after Flitwick, Snape and McGonagall refused to help in dispelling them with a wide assortment of excuses. And to top it all, the squat woman was perfectly aware that they were just excuses, but without proof could do nothing about it.
Third time's the charm as the saying goes: after the first two attacks Umbridge had doubled the patrols and this caused the subsequent incursion to be swiftly intercepted and forced to retreat without accomplishing anything.
Dumbledore wanted to stop the expeditions despite nobody having received any injury that couldn't be treated in little time and with no consequence, and Chandra was inclined to agree to at least temporarily suspend them, but the students –and not just the defeated ones but most of them– felt slighted by the Inquisitorial Squad and demanded revenge. It was a dangerous situation to be in.
The pyromancer understood revenge, it had been one of the forces driving her on Kaladesh at a certain point –partly thanks to Liliana's whispers, but she wasn't small enough to place all the blame at the necromancer's feet– and that was precisely why she knew it was a terrible place to be. Common sense told her to stop her students, but experience hissed that they wouldn't be moved.
She told Dumbledore. Liliana –another individual intimately familiar with revenge– told him too. The elderly headmaster tried to dissuade the rebel students with an impassionate speech appealing to their better nature. He tried to make them see that revenge brought nothing but pain. That it only created vicious cycles. He promised that they would get the school back at the right time. When nothing else worked, he prohibited them to risk their lives on foolish revenge.
They weren't dissuaded.
"Chandra!"
A voice cut through the redhead's slumber. Some remote part of her brain recognised it, but didn't supply a name or face in her sleep-addled state. Still, she felt the urgency of the tone, so she started awake all the same. Her eyes found Hermione's chocolate orbs, and the pyromancer immediately saw the panic and the barely held back tears. She recognized the pain and a developing bruise. She lifted her left hand to cup her friend's cheek and asked what was wrong in the softest tone she was capable of.
No need to make it harder for Hermione. She decided that Nissa's way was more suited for the situation at hand. She was pants at the whole empathy thing, but she could at least make an effort for her friend.
"They took her Chandra! They took Featherbright!" cried the bushy haired girl, her fingers gripping her friend's shoulder like a lifeline "They took her and went up to the castle!"
"By the Blazes!" she cursed throwing her covers off to get moving.
She had completely misread the situation, and she wished it had just been a simple case of bullying as she had initially thought. Ron had gotten better both as a spellcaster and as a person, but he still had all the grace of a rampaging cerodon more often than not –especially around Hermione– so it had been a logical conclusion to expect he had said and done something foolish but ultimately not too terribly harmful. Instead her students had been complete morons and had taken the only available phoenix –Fanny had recently had his burning day– to pursue their stupid revenge. By force, when Hermione hadn't been swayed.
She dressed in record time and, despite all her instincts telling her it was a supremely Bad Idea, she shook Liliana's shoulder to get her to wake. She was going to need all the help she could get if she wanted a chance to bring the idiot crew back alive.
"No, I need birds remains to create a bird skeleton or any sort of flying undead Chandra!" explained the annoyed necromancer staring at the collection of rodent bones not too far away from the Chamber.
"Great, all we have is a pile of useless bones!" lamented the redhead kicking a large animal skull.
They were out of travel-able phoenixes and, as it was night, the main doors to the castle were shut, so the pyromancer had hoped that her necromancy-inclined companion could whip-up a solution from all the bones around the Chamber. She had apparently been wrong.
"I never said they were useless, did I?" Liliana said with a smirk that was the stuff of nightmares.