The Lightsaber
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#17: Battle and Aftermath
Brockwell Park, London
April 3, 1996
Thrusting his wand forward, Harry cast a chain of Blasting, Disarming, and Stunning Curses in quick succession. Tonks was right there next to him, sending her own curses over at their enemy. But to their shared annoyance, their black-clothed adversary deflected or absorbed all of the spells on a shield. After only a moment of this, the trio quickly switched roles with the hunter raising his free arm and blasting a wide swath of pure lightning at Harry and Tonks.
Igniting his lightsaber and holding it before himself, Harry caught the lightning on his blade and protected himself. Tonks wasn't so fortunate, caught unawares and sent flying backwards with a cry of pain as pure agony erupted across her body. Harry wasn't able to look away, the man immediately leapt forward as he drew out his broadsword with one hand while maintaining his lightning with another. Dodging to the side as the man crashed down with a powerful overhead cleave, Harry was raised his wand and cast a simple ice transfiguration on the ground around the man's feet. This clearly caught him by surprise, evident in his slight stumbling and sliding, though he recovered his stance with disconcerting ease and swiftness. Not willing to give up his advantage, Harry immediately leapt forward, pocketing his wand in its holster and stabbing his lightsaber forward for the man's abdomen.
Using the ice to his advantage, the man lowered himself into a sliding crouch. Unable to stop himself, Harry missed his intended target and slammed bodily into the man's shoulder. Thanks to his momentum and the man's positioning, he was easily able to throw the teenager over his shoulder and onto the frozen ground, hard. Despite having the wind knocked from his lungs, Harry still had the presence of mind to see the man turning to impale him with his red glowing broadsword. More as a reflex than a concentrated effort, a wide blast of pure telekinesis erupted from Harry's downed form. Because it wasn't nearly as well focused as if he'd used his hand to direct it, the power was more widespread and thus weaker than it could've been. However, it was still more than enough to catch the man by surprise and knocking him tumbling away from Harry for a few meters. Quickly rolling onto his feet and canceling his conjured ice with a wave of his hand, Harry hefted up his lightsaber into a simple defensive stance, trying to catch his breath as he watched his opponent warily.
As he was standing up, Harry saw that the man's hood had somehow gotten torn and was hanging limply over one of his shoulders, exposing his shiny, bald head. Standing up proudly to his full height, the man glanced at his ruined hood with a brow raised in obvious surprise, as though the thought of his clothes somehow getting damaged was something he hadn't thought a possibility of occurring. With a simple flick of the clasp, he undid the cloak that hung over his armored form and let the ruined material fall to the ground limply. As he looked at him, Harry saw something that he was almost sure was an illusion from the glow of the broadsword's red blade. The man had blood-red eyes.
"You're a lot better than I thought you'd be," Harry said quietly, acknowledging the man's experience. Though he knew it wouldn't have been an easy battle, he hadn't expected the man to have been able to adjust to the changes and surprises that he'd enacted. Maybe that was a bit arrogant on Harry's part, but he really didn't know just what the man was capable of yet.
"And you're a fair bit more entertaining than most of the others I've killed," the man said, his lips pulling back into a wide and confident sneer, exposing a mouthful of sharp teeth and fangs. "But you have no idea what you're up against."
"A Vampire, clearly," Harry pointed out, gesturing towards the Dark being slightly. Despite himself, unease began creeping into Harry. Vampires were among some of the most detested and dangerous Dark Creatures there were. Not only were they near-immortal, blood-sucking monsters, but they had a number of natural magical powers that further set them over the run-of-the-mill Wizard; heightened speed and reflexes, immunity to most types of common Defense magic, and (in the cases of exceptionally powerful ones) a hypnotic stare. "I think I have pretty idea what to expect from you."
The Vampire barked out a laugh, putting his fangs out on display in a blatant attempt to further unnerve Harry. "You have no idea, boy."
In a sudden burst of speed, the Vampire suddenly sprinted forward. If not for his Sorcery's awareness guiding and enlightening him, Harry would've literally lost his head to the charging Vampire's swing. Instead, he brought his saber up and caught the broadsword blade on his own, stopping the blade but straining mightily against the Vampire's incredible strength. The overwhelming force was actually enough to send Harry sliding backwards through the grass for a short distance.
Recovering from his surprise, Harry acted quickly, hopping backwards as the Vampire began a series of powerful but seemingly wild swings of his sword. It wasn't truly a conscious effort on his part, but Harry found himself settling into a strange mental state. He found himself somehow using his Sorcery to help him anticipate the strikes mere split-seconds before they were swung. It wasn't enough of an advantage for him to anticipate the strike, dodge, and dish out his own. He was barely managing to keep his head on his shoulders, quite literally in some cases. Then suddenly the flow of the swordfight changed drastically.
With only a slight movement, the red broadsword suddenly stabbed under the blue plasma saber, then flicked upwards and Harry's blade went flying harmlessly high of its mark. With a slight reversal of his wrist, the Vampire stabbed straight ahead, and Harry had to throw himself backward. He brought his lightsaber across as he did, trying to parry, but the Vampire had already retracted his blade by then and had settled back into a perfect defensive posture. Against that posture, Harry's following flurry of attacks seemed exaggerated and inefficient. The Vampire defeated each one after another, with a slight parry or dodge, seeming barely to move.
In an instant, Harry realized what had happened. The Vampire had switched to a different fighting style that was something close to fencing with rapiers, something that Harry had next to no experience in fighting against. Compared to the Vampire's graceful stabs and elegant parries, Harry's swings and thrusts seemed little better than a child wielding a club. The smart thing to do would've been for Harry to back away and switch his own style, preferably to start throwing out his own curses and jinxes with his wand. But he was scarcely able to do anything but dodge and parry, and just barely at that. The Vampire clearly knew this as well, and wasn't letting him make any distance to do that either.
Now, as the battle played out between the young Sorcerer and the Vampire, the fencer proved his skill and experience in spades. Harry leapt and spun, slashing side to side, chopping and thrusting, but all of the Vampire's movements seemed far more efficient. He followed a single line, front and back, his feet shifting to keep him constantly in perfect balance as he retreated and came on suddenly with devastating thrusts that had Harry stumbling backwards almost as constantly. One especially close stab struck against right shoulder, throwing his balance off momentarily. If not for the Centaur-iron pauldron he'd been wearing, Harry had little doubt that the fight would've quickly ended after that, if he even still had his arm afterwards. The fact that his sword hadn't taken the limb off must've surprised the Vampire, for he came to a stop to stare at it.
"So, this is the depth of your powers and skill?" the Vampire taunted, sneering widely as he came down from his surprise and once again displayed his fangs and sharp teeth. Harry knew the Vampire was trying to intimidate him by showing them off, and it was kind of working, chipping away at his resolve and confidence. "My master actually thought you might've been a threat to us. He must have overestimated your worth."
Without comment, Harry steadied himself and shifted his lightsaber from hand to hand, getting a better grip on it. Then he exploded into motion, coming on again fiercely, his blue lightsaber flashing all about. He kept a better measure of his cuts this time, though, reversing his angle often, turning a wide slash into a sudden thrust. He soon had the Vampire backing away, the red blade working furiously to keep Harry's at bay. Harry pressed forward more forcefully, but the Vampire continued to fend off the strikes, and then his momentum played out. He was too far forward, while the Vampire remained in perfect balance, ready for a counterstrike. And then it was the Vampire suddenly pressing the attack, the red blade stabbing and retracting so quickly that most of Harry's cutting parries hit nothing but air. Harry had to jump back, and back again, as those thrusts moved ever closer to hitting home.
The Vampire stepped forward suddenly, stabbing low for Harry's thigh. Down went the blue blade to intercept, but to Harry's horror the Vampire retracted his weapon and thrust it right back out, up high and across the other way. Harry couldn't get his weapon back to block, nor could he slide back fast enough. The blade stabbed forward, cutting through his jacket sleeve and digging deeply into his left arm just under his shoulder muscle, causing Harry to cry out in pain. The blade was pulled back as quickly as it'd come forward. Then the broadsword was stabbed along its original course, digging into Harry's right thigh. The young Sorcerer stumbled backward, tripping and crashing hard against the ground. But even as he fell, the Vampire was there, his broadsword rolling over and inside Harry's blade. With a sudden jerk, he knocked the lightsaber from Harry's grasp and into the air, catching the deactivated blade's hilt easily.
Keeping his broadsword trained upon the boy at his feet, the Vampire closely examined the strange contraption he held. "A curious weapon, I will admit. A mixture of technology and magic, no doubt. Tell me, boy, where did you acquire this thing?"
"As if—I'd tell—you," Harry panted out, only now realizing just how exhausted he really was. It was even more tiring than anything he'd experienced before.
"Yes, that's what the other boy said," the Vampire said, not really caring at this point. Hefting up his broadsword in preparation for the finishing thrust to Harry's heart, the Vampire sneered widely, clearly relishing the imminent death of the boy. "My master will enjoy dissecting this weapon. Thank you for your contribution to the Consortium."
"LUMOS SOLEM!" a loud feminine voice cried out from somewhere nearby, followed immediately by a beam of concentrated sunlight. The sunlight briefly illuminated the Vampire's body, causing the Dark Creature to shriek in surprise and agony as the ultraviolet rays began burning away at his exposed flesh. In a burst of raw speed that was more of an instinctual dodge than anything else, the Vampire dashed off to the side, accidentally dropping Harry's lightsaber in the process.
Spinning to face his ambusher, the Vampire thrust out his free arm at Tonks. A small bead of blood-red energy quickly gathered there, sparking with jagged red lightning briefly before he blasted it forward in a beam at high speeds. Unfortunately for Tonks, she hadn't managed to glimpse just where the Vampire had run off to, so great was his speed. So she was wholly unprepared to do anything but heft up a feeble shield charm against to the onrushing beam of pure destruction. The beam slammed into her with all the force of a bullet train, sending her flying backwards almost all the way to the tree line in the distance. Her feeble shield was all that saved her life from total annihilation, if not from the cuts, scrapes, and heavily bruising from when she landed in a mangle heap on the ground.
"Tonks!" Harry cried out, having managed to hoist himself up into a crouch position. Then, in a burst of pure rage and anger, he gathered his magic and turned to face the Vampire. He unleashed all of his rage in the single most powerful wave of lightning he'd ever conjured before, howling like a possessed beast the whole time.
The Vampire barely had time to drop his broadsword and bring up his hands, catching the powerful lightning in his palms and channeling it through his own body. He absorbed and redirected the lightning back outwards into a spray of his own lightning. Harry had never seen such a thing before and was momentarily surprised, which caused him to lose his own concentration. The Vampire's lightning struck him full on and Harry cried out in pain as the energy ignited his previous injuries into a conflagration of burning agony. The pain was incredible, searing every nerve back to its individual cells, skewering each of them on white-hot needles. He had never felt anything like this before, not even Voldemort's Cruciatus compared to this!
Through the haze of pain, he brought his own hands up and was able catch the majority of the lightning within his own palms, though several stray strands of it branched out and struck him. He wanted to recoil from the source, to curl into a ball and let unconsciousness take the pain away. But somehow he stayed kneeling in his crouch, seeing the world through a crackling blue light, even as the Vampire began approaching him while maintaining the lightning. The Vampire must've hoped to overpower his defensive by closing the distance, which increased the lethality of the lightning. After what felt like millennia but was only a few seconds, the Vampire was only a short distance away. Harry suddenly mustered his strength and grabbed ahold of the Vampire's hands and gripped tight. The magical lightning spread to engulf the two of them, fueled by both of their desperations. The Vampire tipped his head back, howling in lascivious pain. Darkness threatened to claim Harry's mind, but he clutched to consciousness with feverish will. He had to see this through.
Then suddenly, the contained energy that the two titans had been struggling with surged to the surface. A massive shockwave erupted from their combined hands, expanding outwards more than a dozen meters in a dazzling display of blue-white electrical energy. Dust, dirt, and grass were kicked up as the shockwave released itself through the air, creating a deafening crack of thunder that echoed across the abandoned park and through the large city. From the epicenter of this explosion, two bodies were thrown in opposite directions, coming to tumbling halts some twenty meters apart. What followed was a moment of total silence that not even the winds and insects dared interrupt for fear of consequences. Then, one of the bodies moved, rolling over and painfully pushing himself up to his feet.
Looking up at his downed opponent, the Vampire sneered triumphantly. "Foolish boy. As I said, you had no idea what you were up against."
Standing up straighter, he waited for a long moment as his body's heightened healing factor took effect, rejuvenating him and closing his wounds. Walking forward to the boy, he held out his hand to the side, his discarded broadsword jumping to his palm immediately. The fight had cost him more than he normally was accustomed to. The boy was indeed very powerful, as his master had foreseen, but he was raw, unfocused, and barely disciplined. In times like this, he was extremely happy to have been born a Vampire. For while he was magically drained and would be unable to use the bulk of his magic spells and techniques for the better part of an hour, he still possessed far more physical stamina than any human in this situation. His physiology helped him to overcome and survive exhausting battles like these quite regularly, which is why many of the Hunters his master employed were Vampires and other types of Dark magical creatures.
However, before he could cross even half of the distance between them, the Vampire suddenly stopped as a new being popped into existence ahead of him.
"A house-elf?" the Vampire laughed derisively, unable to stop himself.
"You will not harm Dobby's Master!" Dobby the house-elf declared out angrily. The little elf was dressed in a dark brown colored pants and jacket with a billowing off-white cloak over his shoulders for protection against the cold air. Snatching a little hilt from the belt on his waist, a small green blade sprung to life in his hand. The sight of the pint-sized lightsaber only caused the Vampire to laugh that much harder and louder, despite the furious gaze that the elf was shooting him.
However, all laughter died the moment that the Vampire attacked with a sudden and devastating thrust. But one that never got close to hitting. With hardly a movement, Dobby turned the blade aside. The Vampire frowned and went into a wild flurry, the likes of which he had not shown against Harry, raining blows down on the diminutive creature. But the stalemate didn't last long as Dobby quickly tired of being on the defense. With a burst of sheer power and speed, Dobby flew forward, his blade working so mightily that its residual glow outshone even that of Harry's lightsaber when he was at the peak of his dance. The Vampire held strong though, his red broadsword parrying and defending against the warrior-elf's wild assault.
Just as the Vampire was about to launch a counter, though, Dobby was gone, leaping high and flipping, landing right behind him, striking hard. The Vampire reversed his grip and stabbed out behind him, intercepting the blow. He let go of his weapon altogether, tossing it just a bit and spun about, catching it before it had even disengaged from Dobby's blade. With a growl of rage, the Vampire reached more deeply into his magic and let it flow through him as if his physical form was a mere conduit for its power. His tempo increased suddenly and dramatically, three steps forward, two back, perfectly balanced all the while. His fighting style was one based on balance, on the back-and-forth charges, thrusts, and sudden retreats, and now he came at Dobby with a series of cunning stabs, angled left and right.
Never could he strike low though, for Dobby was continuously leaping and flipping, never staying on the ground for more than a split second. His little green blade seemed little more than a careening cyclone of deadly energy that was able to block, parry, or redirect the Vampire's broadsword. Always just deflecting the blood-sucker's weapon enough to have it miss his small, somersaulting body.
"Enough of this!" the Vampire cried out in frustration, pulling his weapon back for a powerful slash. "This ends now!"
"Dobby agrees!" Dobby answered, jumping high into the air as the Vampire swung. It was then an unexpected blast of lightning slammed into the Vampire's back. The electrical energy hit him full on and he was completely unprepared for it, causing his swing to go wide and wild as he screamed in agony. From the corner of his eye, he spotted the form of his downed opponent, having come back to consciousness while he was distracted by the elf, reaching outwards as the comparatively weak lightning leapt from his fingertips.
Despite the bad swing of the weapon, the little House-elf caught the red broadsword on his green blade, turned and used the force of the swing to accelerate his spin. Rotating in an even faster spin, Dobby swung his short blade out that much faster as he drew level with the Vampire. The last sight the Vampire saw was a flash of green filling his vision before darkness finally claimed him. As Dobby landed behind the Vampire, the Vampire's body fell limply to the ground as its head rolled to side, completely decapitated. As the Vampire's body quickly crumbled to ash and dust, Dobby ignored it and rushed to Harry.
"Master okay?" Dobby asked worriedly, looking over Harry. "Don't worry! Dobby take you somewhere safe!"
"Get…Tonks and…lightsaber," Harry wheezed out weakly as he sunk back to the ground. The worried elf wasted no time in springing to his command. Both his master and his master's friend were hurt and in need of immediate medical attention.
Brockwell Park, London
April 4, 1996
The early morning air was crisp and cold. A heavy blanket of fog and mist was hanging over the massive city as the common folk slowly awoke to the rising that was creeping over the horizon. But the tranquil beauty of the setting was lost to the crowd of cloak-wearing, wand-waving individuals as they buzzed around a very specific section of the Brockwell Park. Though there were no other people in the area. That didn't stop the warders from placing strong but temporary shields to protect them and their activities from view.
Landing unsteadily on his feet, the great, powerful, and beloved Minister of Magic took a moment to center himself and shake off the disorientation brought on by travel from portkeys. It wasn't that he didn't know where to go, it was because of the delicacy of the operation that necessitated the use of portkeys. To have apparated to the crime scene would've been a terrible mistake to make for all the magical interference and disturbances such an act would've caused. It would've been roughly the equivalent of dropping a bucketful of yellow paint into a clean and untouched swimming pool, spilling water and paint everywhere. Sure, it was cleanable but it would've been pointless since the site was now irreparably stained. While portkeys still caused a disruption, it was not nearly to same scale, merely causing ripples that would easily settle down.
Looking around at the site he landed at, Fudge waited impatiently for one of the lead Ministry officials to approach and fill him in on the situation. He was noticed fairly shortly and one of his loyal men appeared at this side. The man wore the emblem of the Department of Mysteries on the right breast of his cloak. Something that caught Fudge's eye for a moment in surprise. He hadn't thought that this site would've been enough to draw that particular department out of its hiding holes. "Minister, we weren't expecting you."
"This is supposedly the site of the single largest burst of raw magic in all of recorded history for the Ministry," Fudge pointed out, a slight domineering tone in his voice. "Why shouldn't I be here?"
"Eh, quite right, sir," the man said, turning and looking back at the site. Though it wasn't much to look at as far as magical battles were concerned, in Fudge's highly respectable opinion, there were a few noticeable scorch marks on the ground in seemingly random places. But, curiously, there was also a pile of ash, armor, and some kind of rusted sword in the center of the site. That was where the highest concentration of the twenty Wizards were gathered.
"What do we have here?" Fudge asked, interested. Was it possible his men had finally found a lead for their ongoing search for those two delusional traitors?
"Honestly, sir?" the Department of Mysteries employee said with a slight inflection of aggravation in his tone. "We don't rightly know what happened here. We've found a pile of ashes, which we've determined to be vampiric in origin. The armor is styled heavily after Corean warriors, as far as we can tell, it only has passing resemblance. We've also found what seems to be a magical broadsword of some type, though its heavily decomposed and barely possesses even trace amounts of magic within it anymore."
"And what about the situation that caused this?" Fudge asked, looking around the site as a whole again. "It looks like a battle took place here."
"Quite right," the Unspeakable agreed easily. "As far as we can tell, the fight itself must've only lasted less than a few minutes. However, the sheer quantity of magic used here is simply off-the-charts, as you know. There's so much of it that we could almost bottle it and serve it at The Leaky Cauldron for a nominal fee."
"What were the Curses or Charms or whatever used?" Fudge asked, his mind whirling as he turned to puzzle the pieces into place.
"As best we can assume, there were none cast, aside from an occasional Protego charm," the man answered, earning an arched eyebrow from Fudge. "We suspect that a majority of the fight that took place was mostly a swordfight. Perhaps the overwhelming magic is the side-effect of some type of unknown sword-magic?"
"Possible," Fudge admitted. Such magics were rare in Wizarding Britain, and Wizarding Europe as a whole, but not unheard of. But, remembering that unforgettable scene at Hogwarts, he already had the beginnings of a theory of what took place here. "Anything else?"
"There is something else, but I don't know how to explain it," the Unspeakable said, looking uncomfortable. "We've detected high amounts of electrical magic lingering in the area. Some of it was even still clinging to the armor when we first arrived. There were also spots of some kind of highly-focused destruction magic that we've never come across before. And there's even trace amounts of what we've easily identified as a Lumos Solem charm."
"Interesting," Fudge said, his budding theory had just been confirmed in his mind. "Keep me updated on the findings." As the man nodded, Fudge held up the portkey still in his hand as said, "Return!"
Returning to the Atrium of the Ministry, Fudge's mind was awhirl as he considered just what he'd discovered. It was, without a doubt, a fight between Harry Potter and some Vampire that took place at that park. The boy had already proven to the Wizarding World that he was a power-hungry Sorcerer, a master swordsman, and had a terrifying control over the raw elemental power of lightning. It all fit together! But what was he doing in a random park of London with a Vampire?
The boy was a Sorcerer. So, it was obviously something Dark, and Vampires were among the darkest of all Magical Creatures. Recruitment, maybe? To get the Vampire clans to join his cause? But Vampires were also highly proud and territorial creatures. They wouldn't side with anyone unless it strictly benefitted their clans and causes, or the recruiter was simply too powerful for them to overcome. This was one of the big reasons why many previous Dark Lords, even Lord Voldemort himself, had never bothered trying to recruit them in the past. But the boy wasn't as well educated as all those prior to him, and he probably didn't know that little fact about Vampires. So, when this Vampire emissary turned down his offer, the boy lashed out and killed the creature. Yes, yes, that made perfect sense!
By the time Fudge had returned to his office, he was pale and practically shaking in terror.
If the boy was willing to ally himself with or to subjugate the Vampire clans, then the Wizarding World was in even greater danger than he'd originally thought! But what was he really after? Destroying the Ministry itself to unleash chaos and death and destruction? Subjugate the Wizarding World and take over the Ministry to impose his own will? If either of those were the case, then trying to build an army would definitely be the first steps he'd take. And if he's already tried his luck with the Vampires, what other Magical and/or Dark Creatures would he approach to recruit?
The Werewolves would probably be the easiest, no question. The Giants and Trolls were historically recruited for their brute strength and simple minds. Centaurs were highly aggressive with dangerous magic-repelling weapons but they were traditionally neutral in all Wizard affairs and conflicts, so it was unlikely they'd deign to ally themselves with a dangerous Sorcerer. Still, it'd be best to start tightening the Ministry's hold on them and restricting their movements, easier to monitor and restrict their possible access with outsiders that way. Potter might even be able to recruit the Dementors to his side, especially since that weapon of his could apparently kill them, so maintaining control over them would be quite simple for him.
'I don't have a choice,' Fudge realized, his eyes starting to alight with hope as he looked up in realization. 'Now, more than ever, I need them. After all the training and conditioning that I've put into them, my new taskforce should be more than a match for Potter. I'll give them full autonomy and freedom. That way, my people should easily be able to counter Potter's recruitment, maybe even be able to hunt him down and capture him. And with their new weapons, they will definitely be able to accomplish this!' Having reassured himself and firmed his decision, Fudge moved to send a note to his secret training facility.
It had been created in the small town of New Grimsby on the isles of Scilly shortly after Potter's escape back in October. It was a training facility that took the very best of the Aurors and Hitwizards, those most pure of blood and loyal to the Ministry, as well as any noteworthy volunteers who'd been discreetly recruited. Over the past few months, he'd had all of them groomed to be top-notched duelists, battle-wizards, and infiltrators. But he'd also had them be subtly brainwashed into being fanatically loyal to the Minister of Magic (himself) with their minds and memories befuddled through the use of questionable potions and mind-magic. This type of brainwashing was practically illegal because, unlike the traditional Imperius and Obliviate, this process was slow and thus much more deeply and permanently ingrained into their psyche.
And, thanks to the charitable contribution of an anonymous source, they also had acquired a potentially powerful weapon for their own use. He was quite confident that after six months of relentless and specialized training, they'd be far more than a match for any Wizard or Witch in all of Great Britain, even all of Wizarding Europe when he was feeling particularly boastful. And all of this was happening in secret, behind the backs of all of his political and actual friends and opponents' backs, a near-total secret enacted by his most trusted or heavily bribed of allies.
It was time to unleash the terror of his Specter Knights on this upstart Sorcerer.
Forbidden Forest
April 5, 1996
The forest was its same dark, dreary, and utterly uninviting self as it always was. Rotted, skeletal trees stood anchored in the ground, hunched over as if in exhaustion of reaching in futility towards the sky in an attempt to break through the eternally overcast skies above. The ground was covered in compost, darkened leaves, and foliage, giving off a rather pungent scent of decay and death. There were no birdcalls in the forest, as no sane avian would dare approach the haunted husk of a forest. But there were various cries of certain monsters in the distance, both far and relatively nearby.
Hogarth Hughes, a proud Pureblood of the noble Hughes bloodline, was easily able to identify several of the animal cries and calls, including some Acromantula, a chorus of barking and growling that must've been one of the extremely rare three-headed dogs, and a strange shrieking cry that Hogarth guessed must've been from Hagrid's last remaining Blast-Ended Skrewt. Though all of those Magical Creatures were dangerous, Hogarth and his team of six Wizards just paid them enough mind to note the general direction and distance they were in.
"Spread out and keep your eyes open," Hogarth barked imperiously as he and his team neared the landmark, a fire-blackened boulder with an arrow engraved into it. "We're entering the supposed Centaur lands."
Glancing back at his team, he couldn't help the grimace of disgust that followed. Aside from Heather Bletchley, all of his team was a filthy mudblood. Why did he always get saddled with the most unworthy Wizards and Witches of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures and especially the Department of Magical Law Enforcement? He just knew that he and Heather were ultimately going to be the ones to do all the hard work once they finally reached the village of those damned horse-men. Putting his disgust to the back of his mind, he turned his attention back to the task at hand.
Word had trickled down through the Departments that the Minister had made a significant discovery at the scene of what must've been a Class-A battlefield. Ignoring the fact that the magical residual was simply off-the-charts, the fact that it had occurred right in the middle of Muggle London had put more than a few people in a panic. But it was from this battle that Fudge had apparently discovered just what the accursed Potter boy was finally up to and in the midst of doing, creating an army of Dark Creatures, whether to take over the Ministry or just cause chaos didn't really matter. The pile of ash identified as Vampire remains was more than enough evidence to support the Minister's claim in the eyes of many. And that was now what Hogarth and his team were investigating.
Though it was a very, very unlikely possibility, the chance of the boy approaching the Centaurs with offers of an alliance were still there. After all, by all accounts, the boy had fled into the Forbidden Forest after his escape from Hogwarts and hadn't been seen since. With as powerful and clever as the boy was, it wouldn't have been hard for him to come into contact with the horse-men and then just a matter of wooing them to his cause. Again, given the boy's past history with several of their members, it was entirely possible.
This was the mission that had caused the two Departments formed a joint taskforce for. To evaluate the herd on their leanings and interrogate certain members for their interactions with the boy in the recent past, and to enforce the Ministry's right and power to keep them contained and isolated. They would not be leaving their little village until the Minister had deemed the threat neutralized. Although, in Hogarth's personal opinion, it would've been more efficient to simply leave them blockaded inside until they all died off from starvation and infighting. 'The beasts are worthless and don't deserve the privilege to live in even a tiny fraction of the Wizarding World at all.'
The team of two Centaur Liaison Office officials, two filthy mudbloods about to be sacked no doubt, and four Aurors, including Hogarth, made it nearly halfway through the Centaur lands when they finally encountered a small patrol of the beasts. As they no doubt knew they should've, the Centaurs hung back, safely out of what they clearly knew was accurate spell-casting distance, watching the approaching Wizards wearily as one of their number turned and galloped off in the direction of their village to inform their leaders. The other Centaurs quickly fanned out to either side as they drew their weapons and prepared for a fight. Although, Hogarth wasn't sure just what kinds of weapons they were holding as they kept them down and slightly hidden behind the various trees they stood behind, but he was able to glimpse the shafts of what were likely spears and an occasional crossbow. 'As if they can stand up against the might of true and pure blooded Wizard!'
However, the two Centaur Liaison officials had slowed in their approach and were staring up at the creatures with cautious and curious gazes. "Something's not right," one of them said.
"What?" Hogarth snapped irritably. He hated interacting with those lower than his station.
The filthy speaker glanced at Hogarth with a hint of challenge in his expression, no doubt hearing his confrontational tone. "Normally, the Centaurs would charge right up to us and demand what we're doing in their lands. They don't shy away from us, ever. Also, what are those glowing things they're wearing? I've never seen any Centaur with something like that." As Hogarth was about to make a derogatory statement about the man's observations, he quickly interrupted him by finishing with, "And I've had this job for more than ten years. I know what I'm talking about."
Despite himself, Hogarth nodded in reluctant acceptance to the point. Even if the Centaur Liaison Office was a dead-end job that saw most of its employees rapidly booted out of the Ministry, experience speaks for itself. As does a man's dedication to his job, useless and pointless as it was.
Regardless of the strange actions of the horse-men, the Wizards continued on their original course. As they drew nearer, Hogarth was able to get a better view of the admittedly strange objects that each of the horse-men wore upon their person somewhere. Most wore the glowing objects as part of the centerpiece of what was clearly a tribal necklace. Others had the objects woven into some wooden and leather gauntlets and bracers on their forearms. But there was one notable one who had one hanging from a string as an earring.
Curiosity overruling his judgment, Hogarth stopped his approach and turned to the nearest beast. "You there! What is that glowing thing? Bring it here, now!"
The Centaur in question just glowered angrily, but didn't move forward at the command. Instead, he merely hefted up the crossbow he was carrying into a more deliberate firing position. It'd only take a slight lean to side in order for him to release his arrow on the arrogant Wizard, though he held back on his instinct to do so. Bane and Tanja would be quite unhappy if they revealed their new weapons to the vile Wizards so soon. Although, this particular Wizard seemed especially vile and likely should be killed as soon as possible.
Ignoring the filthy mudblood as he tried to stop him, Hogarth pointed his wand at the beast threateningly. "I said 'bring it'!" Hogarth commanded, accenting his demand with a flex of his magic. The glowing jewel hanging from the horse-man's necklace jumped forward at his magical command, straining against the strings and hairs to obey its summons. Without even glancing away from Hogarth, the beast grabbed ahold of the jewel, causing a brief flicker of light to emit from between its fingers around it, before releasing it and having it drop back into place on its chest. This action infuriated Hogarth.
With a silent cast, ropes sprung to life from his wandtip and raced at the horse-man at incredible speeds. Before the horse-man could do little more than rear back in surprise, the ropes had reached and started already entangling him. Following Hogarth's silent instructions, the ropes immediately bond the beast's forelegs and wrapped tightly around its neck, choking it. It drew quite a bit of delicious dark humor from Hogarth as he watched the creature wreath and struggle to escape, neighing like an actual horse as it fell to the ground gracelessly.
However, Hogarth's attack didn't go unchallenged. The other beasts quickly poked out from behind their hiding places, pointing strange black and painted weapons at them before they fired. Hogarth and the other Wizards quickly threw up shields to protect them from the strange magical curses the horse-men were throwing at them. As soon as the first curses struck their shields, it was obvious that something was really and truly wrong. Not only were the beasts' curses being fired at a phenomenally fast rate, too fast for it be called actual 'spell-casting', but the curses themselves were far more than they first appeared.
The basic Protego shield charm could protect against most types of curses and attacking spells, discharging and dispersing the magical energy upon the translucent shield like a wave breaking on a rock. Since the most common method of attackers in the Wizarding World was through the use of magic, this type of shielding was usually enough. However, the smarter duelists and combatants knew that the best way around this defense was the use of solid projectiles like arrows and rocks. Granted, if the projectiles were magical in nature (whether through creation or enchanted), then they could still be deflected and protected against by the Protego. And at first glance, what the horse-men were using strongly resembled curses, but clearly weren't.
What happened when the beasts' magic hit the Protego shields was the classic splatter effect as the magic involved in the curses' creation was harmlessly dispersed and deflected as what should've happened. However, the glowing blue fluids that were entrapped within the magic carried on unimpeded, breaking apart and spreading out like a watery splatter. And when the blue fluid struck the Wizards, they were immediately assaulted with crippling and agonizing burning pain where the splatters hit. The fluid easily burned through their woolen robes and underclothes, burning its way into their flesh like acid for several agonizing seconds before suddenly evaporating like smoke. In a roundabout way, the Wizards' robes actually protected their lives, causing the blue-hot plasma to have more surface area to burn through before reaching the vulnerable flesh underneath, by which point the plasma had already lost much of its power.
Of course, that fact wasn't known and would've been of little comfort to the pompous Wizards. They all recoiled in pain and surprise, some having the forethought and ability to retaliate to their aggressors. However, the Centaurs were ready for that as well. Three of the Centaurs brought forward their spears and ignited shining blue blades of pure magical energy from the ends of the shafts. With simple sweeps, they swept the curses aside without even breaking their strides as they suddenly charged forward, hefting their spears in preparation for some killing strikes or disabling slashes.
Hogarth managed to throw up another shield against the horse-man that was charging him, but it was of little use. The glowing end of the spear easily penetrated the feeble shield and sliced off the Wizard's outstretched arm just below his shoulder. Hogarth let out a loud, pained and panicked cry as he stumbled back, staring uncomprehendingly at his severed arm that was still clutching his wand. Hearing the approach of another horse-man, he looked up at the beast as it charged him from the side, its lightpike held in a low, sweeping posture that was sure to dismember his legs next.
In a state of shock, Hogarth sunk to his knees, grasping his severed arm. As the beast neared him, preparing to now remove his head from his body, Hogarth apparated away, not caring about the fates of his team in the least. His life was far more important than any of theirs after all. Plus, the Minister needed to know about these horrifying change of events as soon as possible!
(Author's Note) Heh, I actually had a lot more fun writing this chapter than I thought I would. Usually, writing up the aftermath of a fight is pretty boring but not in this case. I hope I managed to portray Fudge's paranoia and Hogarth's racism properly, without making them seem too competent (because they're not).
Still, I wonder just what your opinions are on the various things that happened in this chapter. If my betas are anything to go by, I bet most of you had a 'WTF?!' moment when it was DOBBY who managed to kill the Hunter (with Harry's help, of course). Before any of you ask, yes, I drew heavy inspiration from Yoda vs. Dooku for what Dobby's particular lightsaber style is like. But what's this about the 'Specter Knights'? Anyone wanna guess what they're based off of? FYI: New Grimsby is the name of a town on the Scilly isles southwest of the English mainland, for those who didn't know. And finally, can anyone guess just what's about to happen between the Ministry and Centaurs now?
For those of you who'll likely complain, here's my reasoning for the obvious difference in lightsaber skills between Harry and Dobby. Dobby needs to be an utterly badass swordsman. As stated in a previous chapter, a House-elf is like a partial Sorcerer. They can touch and use the ambient magics of the world, but to a much lesser amount of that of a human. So, even at the height of his ultimate power, Dobby would've only come to be less than a quarter as strong as Harry. A 2 of 10 on the power scale I established. So, in compensation, he needs to magnify other skills. And Harry has been focusing more time on his magical training with the crystal ball than his combat or lightsaber skills (something I obviously should've shown beforehand, but oh well).
And finally, for those who are interested, be sure to check out Aminta Defender's Mayhem at Hogwarts. It's story that's being written at my request that features just what's happening at Hogwarts after Harry fled there. So, yes, it's technically 'canon' as well.
I hope you all enjoyed reading this chapter as much I did writing it.