The Lightsaber
By: Tellemicus Sundance
#21: The Horrors of War
Forbidden Forest
He was having trouble breathing, trouble seeing, trouble gripping his blaster rifle, and even trouble just lying still on his stomach upon the raised rock outcropping he and George were hidden upon. Below them was a long line of cloaked people holding out their wands as they marched in a loose line into the dark forest around and ahead of them. The normal, unsettling silence of the Forbidden Forest was now being loudly broken by the intruding march of a line of war-hungry witches and wizards.
Dudley knew that the wizards couldn't see or detect him or any of the hiding Lycans. One of the special magical charms that had been worked into the suit was a small ward-like camouflage barrier. It essentially allowed the wearer of the suit to blend in with the surrounding landscape and thus be rendered practically invisible to the naked eye, various technological scanners and cameras, and most types of magical location spells, so long as the person remained completely still. But, like with most of the magical technology experiments that were being field tested, there were a lot of problems that still needed to be worked out. Such as the colossal drain on the Rune Drive that was used to power the camouflage barrier, the same one he wore on his back. Glancing for the umpteenth time at the small computer screen on his right gauntlet, closely monitoring his depleting power supply, he grimaced. If he held this barrier for much longer, he wouldn't have enough power left for any of the other little surprises he had packed away.
A hand on his shoulder caused Dudley to glance jerkily over at George. The dark haired Lycan was dressed in a similar suit as Dudley, just without the helmet as it'd impede his transformed state if he tried to. The look in the Lycan's eye was that of repressed eagerness, but also a certain calmness. After just a few moments of staring, Dudley suddenly understood. George's animalistic instincts were riding high, probably seeing this ambush as a great hunt with his pack. So, Dudley's fraying nerves were probably playing havoc with his own discipline and urge to fight. Taking a calming breath, Dudley nodded to him and turned his attention back to his rifle's scope.
"WIZARDS!" a Sonorous-enhanced voice cried out, echoing through the silent forest. "HALT!"
"Who's there?!" someone from the Wizards' column shouted back after just a second.
"YOU CAN CALL US 'LYCANS'," the first speaker said. "WE ARE ALLIES OF THE CENTAURS! TURN BACK NOW AND YOU WILL WALK AWAY WITH YOUR LIVES!"
"We do not barter, trade, or reason with Dark Creatures, Dark Wizards, or cowards who refuse to show their faces!" the Wizards' spokesman replied, clearly self-righteous and angry. "We'll give you one chance to leave and not interfere with our operation, 'Lycan'!"
"SO BE IT!" There was a certain amount of resigned acceptance in the Lycan's voice, all of them present had predicted such a response. "LYCANS! ATTACK!"
Rising up into a kneeling crouch, George swung his heavy cannon around and opened fire into the center of the gaggle of magicals. Throughout the forest, all along the trail that the Wizards had been using, many more Lycans and Centaurs also sprung from their own hiding places and opened fire. A literal shower of various sized plasma blasts rained down into the Wizards formation. Many dozens of men and women were felled in that opening volley alone.
Some were hit by numerous bolts in different areas of their body. Some were thrown clear to the ground by large bowcaster bolts burning huge holes in their bodies. Some were caught within the general vicinity of heavy cannons like what George was using and were knocked back or blown completely apart in a shower of guts, blood, and limbs. The Wizards reacted by launching spells, curses, and hexes into the forest at random directions with next to no coordination with one another. The key issue with the Wizards was that they each had a mentality of 'every man for himself', something that had suited them well in their games of politics and backstabbing. But with those down there, it was showing to be a crippling weakness.
Dudley managed to squeeze off a couple of shots, hitting several of the Wizards in where he hoped were non-vital areas. But the incredible carnage that was taking place below him quickly caused him to lose focus and falter, staring in horror and with wide eyes at what he was seeing. He had always thought that being in a battle would be incredibly glorious and even quite a bit of fun, but that was not what he was seeing. It was bloody, horrible, stomach-churning, and unending. He consciously knew that he was slipping into a state of shock, but he couldn't do anything about it.
Through his rifle's scope, Dudley found his sight fixated on one particular wizard. He was an admittedly handsome-looking fellow who couldn't have been more than two years out of school and blatantly obviously just a junior member of the magical policemen. Dudley watched as the wizard hurried over to one of his companions, coincidentally one who Dudley had shot himself. The wounded one been shot in the torso and was lying on the ground in a mass of billowing robes, shredded flesh, and blood. The wizard rushed to his companion's side and knelt to render assistance.
A torn, bloody hand lifted toward the would-be rescuer, who was clearly fumbling to remember the correct magical incantations and wave-movements to heal his friend. His friend pressed his hand up against the young Wizard's face, drawing his attention. In that moment, the light faded from his eyes and the body went limp. No, that wasn't supposed to be lethal shot! Dudley had been sure that his target wizard wouldn't die from a shot to that spot! With a sinking realization, Dudley realized he'd just killed someone for the first time. After a moment of horrified comprehension, he found his gaze locked back onto the wizard he'd been following. He had to wonder if the two had known each other very long or well. Had they trained together? Shared meals, stories, experiences together? Well, they definitely had shared death together.
Combat was not at all like the would-be rescuer and watching sniper had envisioned it.
There was no assistance to be rendered here, the still-living wizard clearly realized. Straightening, he surveyed the hell in which he found himself. His wand hung in his hand, useless and unused. He stumbled off, away from his dead comrade and that exposed, pale, pleading hand. As madness ebbed and surged around him, he wandered through the carnage, clearly in a state of shock and incomprehension. It was a feeling Dudley could wholly understand, he felt as though he were watching a historical drama instead of an actual battle. The horrific and all-too-common red stains on the ground, blood puddles surrounding bodies or dismembered limbs, the cratered and burning earth, contradicted his denial. This wasn't like his training at all, the same thought running through both their minds endlessly, numbly.
Then, like a marionette with its strings cut, the wizard jolted as a blue bolt struck him in his gut and he collapsed to the ground, dying almost as soon as he hit. Dudley could only stare, feeling morbidly glad it wasn't him who'd shot the terrified and dumbfounded wizard, and also feeling a great deal of sadness for the poor young man's untimely and unfair death in such a manner. He still had so much to live for, but not anymore.
Next to him, George wasn't bothered by the carnage as Dudley was. He continued to fire down ruthlessly at the Wizards below. Once he felt that their ranks had been suitably thinned, he set his steaming cannon aside and leapt forward. Landing in the blooded mess he'd helped to create below, he quickly shifted into his Lycan form and let out a furious war-cry before he attacked with a flurry of claws, teeth, and powerful muscles. All around him, Wizards and Witches cried out in alarm and panic, trying to coordinate and retaliate against the unexpected ambush. Now those same screams were turning more into panicked cries of monsters and to retreat.
The sudden arrival of several more transformed Lycans was the final straw and the many surviving Wizards turned tail and fled as fast their bodies could carry them. They had come prepared to combat and subdue Centaurs, not impossibly-transformed Werewolves in the middle of the day. The fighting Lycans didn't try to chase them down, merely roaring threateningly as the Centaurs hurried into the massacre to start dealing out mercy kills to those dying.
Seeing the massacre finally end, Dudley pulled off his helmet and turned away, emptying his stomach of its contents. In his mind, images of the massacre (both real and not) began replaying constantly with unerring clarity. The screams, the blood, the death. Dudley knew then and there that those images and sounds would never leave his memory for the rest of his life. He knew he'd be revisiting this two-minute massacre countless times for years, if not decades, to come in his dreams alone.
Moaning piteously, Dudley spit out the remainder of his vomit from his mouth and wiped his lips. Taking up his helmet again, he looked at it for a long moment. Did he really want to put it back on again? Looking down at the carnage below, he tried to find a viable reason to do so. Down there, there must've been at least sixty reasons, if not more, for why he shouldn't put it back on!
"Try not to dwell on it," George said from beside him, having returned at some point when Dudley was distracted. Kneeling down next to the boy, he was rubbing Dudley's back in soothing motions as he looked at him with pity but also understanding. "They may not have deserved what they got here just now, but what they were going to do to the Centaurs would've been far worse… Remember that."
"How do you…make it seem so easy?" Dudley asked. Unsure if he meant the actual killing, not letting it affect him, or to just continue to carry on killing once it's started. Unsure if he really wanted to know.
"Experience, mostly," George admitted sadly. "Do it enough times, you start to become immune to it. But don't ever start to enjoy doing it! That's when you truly let the monster take hold and you become the beast they fear you as."
Though he was clearly referencing his time as an uncontrollable monster, Dudley still understood just what George was trying to say and nodded slowly, uncertainly. Seeing his acknowledgement of his point. George patted him encouragingly on his shoulder before standing up and grabbing his discarded blaster cannon. "If you're up for it, Hendricks wants us to move farther down the trail to set up a new site, just in case the Wizards decide to try making another run down the same trail."
"Why the bloody fuck would they want to do that?!" Dudley couldn't help asking, not comprehending why anyone would willingly travel back towards where they knew the enemy was and where they'd already suffered a great loss.
"Because Wizards are illogical idiots with no head for strategy or tactics," George said bluntly, hefting the heavy cannon up almost carelessly upon his shoulder as though it weighed little more than a few grams. Turning, he again dropped down off the rock outcropping they were on and started making his way down the trail.
After watching his partner walk away, Dudley returned his gaze back to his helmet that was still in his hands. With a heavy sigh, he lifted it and pulled it on once again.
Hogsmeade
"What do you mean it was a massacre?!" Fudge yelled, furious and scared. "What happened?! Who attacked you? Was it the Centaurs?! How could a bunch of beasts kill so many and send the rest of you back in a panic?!"
"It wasn't so much the Centaurs that attacked us, Minister," the Auror answered. There was a clear look of shock, horror, and fear in his expression. He was having a hard time standing still, constantly twitching and keeping a hard grip on his wand.
There was a strange bleeding wound on his shoulder that looked like a small puncture wound, his robes soaked in blood around it. Normally, this Wizard would've been taken to the hospital to have his wound checked up and healed. But with the abrupt return of the Auror army and the many dozens of wounded among their number, the small local hospital in Hogsmeade was already overflowing. Despite its renown, St Mungo's was a small institution with limited staff and space available at any one time. This was due in part because with magic, most Wizards and Witches could heal themselves with minimal effort or fuss. It was only the rare, complicated cases that only professionals skilled in healing that were taken to St Mungo's. Alas, the major Magical Britain hospital also pretty full as well and many of the wounded Aurors had been turned away at the gates as a result.
"Then who was it?" Bones asked, using a calm but stern voice. "Dark Wizards, foreign Wizards, Muggles, Death Eater-wannabes…Harry Potter?"
"It was the Werewolves!" the Auror answered, flinching at the memories and the sudden looks of confusion and anger in his superiors.
"Werewolves?" Headmistress Umbridge repeated, clear derision and disbelief in her tone. "Werewolves? Did you get hit by a Confundus Curse in there? How could you possibly know it was Werewolves who—?"
"BECAUSE THEY ATTACKED US—TRANSFORMED—WHEN WE STARTED GETTING CLOSE!" the Auror yelled. "They came out of the trees, blasting some kind of blue spells at us that we couldn't shield against, blowing up the earth and us like they were using Explosive Curses, and started tearing us apart with their claws!"
"The Werewolves were transformed in broad daylight?!" the Head Unspeakable asked, sounding both horrified and deeply intrigued. The grey robed and hooded Wizard ignored the stares he earned from his companions. "We had always wondered if such a thing were possible, to transform in daylight. I wonder how they managed such a feat. A potion? Some kind of uniquely created Charm or magical artifact?"
"Lycans," the Auror said quietly, again earning his superiors' attentions. "They called themselves 'Lycans' before they attacked. Said they were allies of the Centaurs."
"Lycans? What's that? Some kind of new Pack name?" Bones wondered aloud, her mind puzzling through these many strange new revelations they'd just discovered. What was going on here, in that forest? Could this all somehow be connected to Fudge's belief that the Centaurs were part of a Dark Army that Potter was building to attack their world? If so…it suddenly became much, much more important that they subdue this uprising now before it gained anymore momentum.
"Send the Aurors back in!" Fudge barked angrily, fearfully. "And keep sending them in until they crush these beasts! They can't overwhelm us! We outnumber them too much!"
"No, that is a bad idea!" Bones said sternly, ignoring Umbridge's dirt glare as she looked at the Minister. "We have no idea just how many Were—Lycans are in there helping the Centaurs. We don't know the limits of these new magics they are using or how this apparent daytime-transformation affects them. To go charging in now would be reckless and foolhardy in the extreme, Minister."
"But we can't let this disgrace go unchallenged!" Umbridge said forcefully. "To do so would give the hint that we are weak and willing to allow them to walk all over us! No, we must strike again and harder than before! Remember what you're fighting for! My dear students are in danger!" Not for a second did Bones or the Head Unspeakable believe she was concerned for the Hogwarts students.
"I did not say that we shouldn't strike back," Bones said, gritting her teeth together in aggravation. How she despised this woman! "Only that we be smart about it. They have caught us by surprise once, what's to say that they can't do it again and with greater success? No, if we strike again, we must be smart about it."
"Use the Giants," Gerard Bloomington, Head of the Department of the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, said in a small but determined voice. In an instant, the rest of the council turned to look at him with curious, shocked, and scared expressions on their faces. "It's the best resource we have available. They are strong and resistant to magic, even more so than Dragons. Allow me to send a few representatives to the nearest tribe and talk the Gurg into bringing some here. I'm sure that we can get a few to listen to us."
"Are you mad?!" Umbridge shrieked, terror at the thought plainly visible on her face. "They are wild beasts who would sooner tear you apart than look at you! And you to bring them here?! Where they could do untold amounts of damage to not only Hogwarts but Hogsmeade as well?!"
"Remember what we're fighting against, Headmistress," Gerard said, looking levelly at the woman. "The Centaurs have new weapons. They have allied themselves with a clearly powerful new Pack of Werewolves, who also apparently have the same or similar weapons. These new Lycans can transform in daytime. And the Centaurs know the Forbidden Forest better than one else. The Aurors are hopelessly outmatched. Even just one Giant would suffice give us a massive and much needed advantage."
There was a long moment of silence following Gerard's astute summary of their position. Despite herself, Bones couldn't help but say, "I agree with Gerard. We have to gain control of this situation and fast. And, as he's pointed out, Giants are indeed our best resource."
Fudge was almost ghost-white pale at the thought of bringing even just one Giant into the area. The tales of the devastation that Giants had wrought on their ancestors no doubt playing out in his mind as tried to find a justifiable reason to not agree. He was tempted, so dearly tempted, to just send in his Specter Knights and be done with this whole affair. But he wanted to keep them in reserve, save them for when that damn Potter boy at last revealed himself. Finally, after clearly swallowing his fear and pride, he nodded and said, "Do it. And…be quick about it!"
Gerard nodded respectfully before he left as quickly as was politely possibly.
"I hope this isn't a mistake," Fudge said quietly after Gerard was gone. It was a sentiment that all of his advisors and the gathered Department Heads could unanimously agree with.
Forbidden Forest
Standing upon a rocky mound that jutted up above most of the forest, Harry looked down at the dead woodlands. But he was looking not with his eyes, which were closed, but with his mind and his magic. He could…feel it. There was something in the air. A tension, a terrible fear, an awful wrath, a bloodthirsty desire. There was no other way to describe it than that. Something was approaching… Something big and dangerous… Something that wanted to fight and kill. And this sensation was only growing stronger as the hours passed by slowly.
Following the massacre that had taken place, the Lycans had moved closer to the edge of the forest and where the Hogwarts grounds officially started. While the Lycans had hurriedly constructed a series of new fortifications along the trail, the Centaurs busied themselves by patrolling the rest of the forest to catch any spies or assassins trying to sneak into the village. The support branch of the Lycans were busying themselves by sending out small probes and surveillance drones to survey the skies above the forest and the nearby castle and village. But, excluding an occasional attempt by an ambitious or foolish opportunistic Wizard or two, things had been relatively quiet.
With the sun now dipping very low towards the horizon, Harry finally turned and mounted his Firebolt. Flying off, he headed towards where the Warlock was still stationed. His travel was largely uneventful, even if he did pass by several of the patrolling drones and probes, none of them gave him any trouble. Coming in for a soft landing just outside the boarding ramp of the ship, Harry made his inside the new command center. Unlike earlier, activity inside was much less frenzied. The excitement and chaos of the slaughter had long since died down here. The triumphant Lycans had set aside their victorious spirits and humor at finally dealing a large and decisive blow against their hated former oppressors. Now, with night fast approaching, the command staff were beginning to switch out with their shifts to fresh faced replacements.
Rather than heading downstairs towards the command center, Harry continued to walk up the ramp for the living area. It was much quieter and more subdued up here than downstairs, which was to be expected since this area of the Warlock was Dudley's personal area, his new home in all but name. Reaching the top of the stairs, he stopped and looked to the right, at the door to Dudley's quarters. He could sense his cousin inside and the dark, turbulent emotional state he was in. Harry knew what was wrong. This was his first real battle, he'd killed, and it was leaving its mark on him. Though Harry was hardly and far from being an expert on such matters, he was familiar with putting his life on the line and being pulled/shoved into life-threatening situations.
With a sigh, he turned and headed for the door. If nothing else, perhaps he could be a willing ear for his cousin to vent all his emotions on and, if need be, a body to strike out against if things became aggressive. Harry remembered his own outburst in Dumbledore's office last year and the almost-therapeutic relaxation it'd given afterwards (excluding the guilt of destroying the Headmaster's things).
(Author's Note) I'm sorry about the long delay. I had a serious bit of writer's block on this particular chapter and then I just procrastinated like hell until I finally sat down and wrote it today. I still don't know how long this battle is going to take to write out, but let's just say that the next chapter will probably come out a few deal sooner since it's got some stuff in it I've REALLY wanted to get to!
For this particular chapter, I had wanted to show the horrors of war and since Dudley was still very much a newbie, he got roped into it. I'll admit it, I kinda chickened out on the Dudley-consoling thing at the end but I felt it was unnecessary to the overall story. It was there, it needed to be done, and Harry and several others have been doing it, even if I haven't bothered to show it. He will still be bothered by it, but it's no longer going to be the focus of the chapter.
That being said, what did you guys make this 'battle'. I somewhat enjoyed it, but I feel that it's still missing something. Hm... Anyway, the first battle goes to the Centaurs and Lycans, who are wallowing in the victorious afterglow. And yet the Wizards are now going to try bringing in the 'big guns'. Not to give away any details, but there's going to be quite a few victims in the next battle.