Chapter 31 – Five Finger Fillet
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Previously on The Forgiven:
While following the Troll that attacked Hogwarts back to its master, the group was ambushed by a group of Centaurs. One of them, a certain Centaur named Firenze.
After Norse was able to convince them they were not enemies, the two groups forged a temporary alliance to hunt down the creature preying on unicorns. Upon meeting the one they assumed to be Voldemort, a chaotic battle ensued. In the end, three Centaurs lost their lives, and the leader of Troll Garden escaped.
The Forgiven experienced their first, true taste of failure.
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Shadows thick as cloth blanketed the Forbidden Forest's outer fringe. On the canyon side, a trail of torchlights could be seen marching its way towards the trees. There were twenty figures numbering the party; a mix of magi and trolls.
When they reached a certain distance from the Forest's tree line, arrows flew out in angry droves. Like flittering birds, the projectiles soared forth, looking to skewer their marks.
In response to the attack, many of the mercenaries ducked behind trolls. The large creatures were outfitted with cheap, but effective armor. Incoming arrows ricocheted harmlessly off or failed to pierce decent depth. When the volley passed, the witches and wizards moved from their cover and took aim.
A chorus of yells erupted, followed by various colors of elemental light. They streamed into the Forest. Thunder clouds cracked within the shadows. Cries of pain could be heard as spells met their mark. The mercenaries could hear the Centaurs' hooves stomping the ground in retreat. Drunk on their victory, the magi gave chase, ushering the trolls forward.
"""Avada Kedavra."""
Three green trails of crooked blight struck a troll each.
The creatures' souls extinguished from their bodies upon contact with the Killing Curses. As the lifeless corpses fell to the ground, something peculiar happened. Their clubs punched into the dirt and supported their weight. The trolls stood with an eerie posture and began swinging their weapons against their comrades. The newly reanimated Inferi caught many of their brethren square in the head, inducing instant death.
Suddenly, the mercenaries were in a complete panic. Seeing them without their meat shields, the Centaurs flanked to the group's wings to blanket them with arrows.
Trolls died by Inferi troll hands. Witches and wizards drowned in hails of wooden shafts. It was a complete turnaround from then on. When the battle was over, only one mercenary managed to survive.
The witch was barely holding on. She had lost her wand in the battle. Her legs were riddled with arrows, rendering her unable to walk. She was trying so desperately to crawl to safety.
But didn't get very far.
A firm foot pressed on her back, and before the woman could turn around or utter a word, magic coursed through her system.
"Crucio," Grimm whispered with a bite.
Her victim felt shards of glass sprout from her insides. It cut her stomach from the inside out, pricking every surface of her skull, under her skin. Whenever she moved, whenever she tried to form a thought, the curse's effect magnified a hundred fold. It hurt to twitch from the pain. It hurt to breathe and expand her lungs. She felt shards puncture her most sensitive areas.
"GRIMM!" Liar yelled, coming over.
"What?"
"She has had enough!"
"I don't know about that…"
Norse moved by Grimm's side and grabbed her wrist. For a moment, they both shared an intense glare.
"Relax, you two. Just softening her up," said Grimm.
She ended the Cruciatus Curse, and was readying to invade the mercenary's mind.
"I'll do it," Liar stepped in.
The wizard knelt beside the now weeping wreck of a woman and began probing her mind for information. While Liar busied himself with his task, Firenze came over and bowed before them. Norse returned the gesture, but Grimm did not.
"We have won the battle. Twenty strong fell tonight. I thank you on behalf of our clan for your assistance."
"The honor is ours, Firenze."
"Unfortunately, I have grave news, as well."
"Let me guess, three or four more groups like this one just made it into the Forest, while we were busy here," Grimm cut in.
"…Yes. How did you know?"
"The stars told me."
"Really?" Firenze asked, looking bewildered.
"Guess sarcasm doesn't carry very well with Centaurs. Sorry, that was racist. I know because that's what I would've done."
"Hm…I see. Yes. It is exactly as you have said. Our scouts report a number of similar groups moving all across the canyons."
"Which confirms more or less what she had in her recollections." Liar said, while standing up. "Or at least, whatever was left of her recollections," he added with a slight edge to Grimm.
"We were outmaneuvered!"
"More accurately, we were under resourced. We needed the other clans tonight, Firenze. Now, I'm not one to complain about help, but we somehow expected….more of you."
"Is there still no word from them?"
Firenze sadly shook his head. "Without any clear signs from the skies or direct invasions into their territories, the other clans continue to remain passive. In truth, many of my own clansmen begin to think we should take similar attitudes towards he-who-must-not-be-named."
""What?!"" Norse and Liar left their jaws hanging in shock.
"I fear that soon, I will no longer be able to persuade them to fight."
The Centaur's last words weighed heavy on their minds. Norse, Liar, and Firenze looked at their wit's end.
In the wake of their depression, they heard crunching steps moving away. The three of them turned, and saw Grimm heading towards her broom.
"Grimm? Where are you going? We must discuss strategy."
"What strategy?" The blue haired witch scowled and eyed them all with scorn. "We're clearly fighting a losing battle. Winning these little skirmishes does shite! We can stay here and try to hunt down the other groups and keep losing ground, cause more are going to come anyway—Or!" She picked up her broom and started floating into the air on it. "…I can go get myself a drink."
And with that, the witch flew into the night sky, leaving behind her dejected comrades.
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Part 2
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The Forgiven didn't sleep upon returning to Hogwarts. They were too worried about the impending armies of Troll Garden to sleep.
House Elves delivered fresh cups of coffee to the Forgiven's living quarters. Liar and Norse sat together in the common room of their tower. Grimm had shut herself up on the top floor, which used to be another astronomy room; staying there ever since they returned from the battle.
Liar furiously scratched out a part of the map that lay on their study table.
"Not there. We checked there," he muttered.
"They most likely hide northward where the Forest is wider."
"I can understand their inclination to move from the Eastern front, but why not migrate South? The Forest is densest there, making it ideal for masking an army."
"…They must have the Centaur territories charted! They are intentionally moving to the north where the clans have a lesser presence!"
"Clever sods. That must be what Firenze mentioned earlier. Out of sight and out of mind—the clans won't engage if their lands are avoided." Liar took another angry sip of his coffee and stopped himself. He eyed the mug with a rather concerned look. "How many of these have I had?"
Norse shrugged her shoulders, looking at her own cup.
"Damned House Elves keep refilling my mug when I'm not looking! I don't have any blasted idea how much caffeine I've consumed. Feels like I'm going mad." Liar took another sip regardless. "Ah, but they're around aren't they?" He put his hand to his mouth, like he was yodeling. "Just kidding. Don't take it personally. I love you lot."
Norse gave a silent chuckle.
*Sigh* "I think I better check on Grimm, see how she's faring."
Norse nodded gravely.
"Unless…You would like to—"
She shook her head, and turned back to the maps.
It seemed some of Norse's resentment towards Grimm yet still lingered. Liar expelled another tired sigh before ascending the stairs of the tower. He wished the two would get along again. Their friendship had been testy as of late, and only seemed to be growing worse with the coming days.
It all started when they failed to kill Voldemort. While Grimm was angry at Norse for preventing the Centaurs from being used as cannon fodder, she was mostly angry with herself for failing the mission. They were not "defeated" per se, but it made little difference to her.
Their true purpose as the Forgiven was to ultimately eliminate Voldemort, but the enemy managed to slip through their grasp. Grimm took the loss harder than anyone and it showed in her mood.
The witch grew increasingly dark with each passing day. The stress was accumulating. She was ill-tempered and hostile all the time. The leader also developed a habit of using the Cruciatus Curse to vent her frustrations on the Troll Garden mercenaries, who had the misfortune of coming across her.
Liar reached the top of the tower and stood before the door to the old astronomy room. From there, he could hear an incessant hammering sound, like a woodpecker repeatedly pecking on a large tree.
"Tuk-tuk-tuk-tuk*
A bit concerned, the young man made a hurried knock. The woodpecker sound ceased, followed by a brief moment of silence.
"Come in," a voice called from inside.
Liar entered the old astronomy room and heard wood stabbing racket continue again. The wizard finally saw the cause of the noise and made a deep frown.
Sitting at her own study table full of charts, was Grimm stabbing her dagger rapidly between her fingers. Numerous grooves in the wood could be seen from her game of Five Fingers Filet. Upon closer inspection, Liar could see freshly healed stab wounds all over the witch's hand.
*Tuk tuk tuk tuk tuk*
*Shikt*
The large knife cut into Grimm's pinky, severing it at the middle joint. The decapitated digit rolled off the table and bounced on the floor, joining a stockpile of varying copies. Without so much as a wince, Grimm took a swig of the healing potion on the table, which caused her bloody nub to regenerate anew.
She picked up one of the many cut fingers off the ground and offered it to Liar.
"Want one? You could glue it on your nub."
When the wizard offered no response, she flicked the thing across the room. And then returned to the game again, back and forth across her finger gaps.
*Tuk tuk tuk*
Liar couldn't believe his eyes. "Are you drunk?"
"Hah!" she gave a sarcastic cackle. "That's the sad part, Liar…" She looked at him with a defeated look. "I'm completely sober. Alcohol doesn't have the same effect it usually has, these days…"
Liar eyed the full glass of what was probably Black Blood, sitting next to the healing potion.
"Damn House Elves," he cursed under his breath. "I understand you have a developing fascination with knives, but eviscerating yourself with them may be taking it a tad too far."
"It helps me think."
"I seriously doubt that."
Grimm ignored him.
"Boss…"
"…"
*Tuk tuk tuk tuk*
"Grimm!"
Liar put his hand over hers, between her hand and the dagger. The blade stopped and slightly cut into his skin.
"Idiot. Don't do that," Grimm muttered.
"I could return those same words to you."
"Did you find something, or did you just stop by to be an annoyance?"
"First, I insist you cease carving hot links out of yourself."
"…Done." Grimm sheathed her dagger and put on a business-like persona. "Well? What do you have for me?"
"Norse and I have found nothing."
"Grrr…"
"If only we could find some way of engaging Voldemort again."
"He's not feeding as much—especially lately. Should be getting hungry."
"Voldemort also grows cautious of the Centaurs. Choosing to hunt unicorns away from their territories makes sense. Only Firenze ventures outside his clan's stomping grounds."
"There has to be a way to lure the bastard out. What if we tempt him with the Stone? Would he immediately assume it was a fake?"
"Obviously."
"Yes. That was a ghastly idea. My head's a mess…" Grimm began massaging her temples.
Liar stared at her for a few moments, weighing his next words carefully.
"You and Norse should speak."
"…We're fine."
"You know both of us are worried—"
"Albus is here."
They both heard the tower doors open downstairs.
"As if I didn't have enough of a headache." Grimm stood. "What were you saying?"
*Sigh* "Nothing. Nothing that cannot wait till later."
As Liar followed his leader, his head filled with growing worries.
I cannot fix this…
The only thing I can do is support them both. They have to work it out themselves.
…
I just hope they do it soon.
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Part 3
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Liar and Grimm descended the stairs to find Dumbledore chatting with Norse. At the sight of the two, the Headmaster rose from his seat.
"The situation surrounding Troll Garden goes poorly, it seems…"
"That's an understatement. I believe the accurate description is: we're proper focked," Grimm cursed, while crossing her arms. "Even if, by some miracle, we found the main army—I doubt we have the time or the manpower to neutralize it!"
"Another demerit stacked against us. For all our skill and ability, our group can be defeated with ease if faced with outstanding forces."
"The one weakness of the Forgiven…Numbers. It might be time to evacuate the school and call the Ministry. If you need someone to corroborate the authenticity of the army, we can pick up one of the mercenaries."
"Hmm…" Dumbledore caressed his beard. "Have we exhausted every measure afforded us?"
Grimm paused for a moment, and then answered, "…I think so, Albus. And I don't say that lightly. We can prepare, but a massive battle looks inevitable. Our highest concern is the students' safety. Evacuate the school, Headmaster."
"I see. Then I shall make the arrangements in the morning and speak to Fudge. Please capture three corroborators for good measure."
"Understood."
All three Forgiven nodded.
Dumbledore let a tired breath escape him. "Tonight has been a most unfortunate night of ill news indeed…"
"Hm? Did something else happen?" Liar asked.
"Oh, no. Nothing compared to the gravity of our current peril. Just a number of students found out of bed afterhours. Minerva deducted fifty points for each offender, as well as administer detentions."
"Fifty each?!" Grimm gasped.
"Did I ever mention how incredulously silly your school's point system is?" Liar commented.
"Right. I mean, right. I don't care…Sooo who—"
"Hm," the Headmaster smiled. "It was Mr. Potter, Mr. Malfoy, Ms. Granger, and Mr. Longbottom."
"""Neville?!""" Grimm, Liar, and Norse, spat with shock.
"Of course, it hardly matters now that Hogwarts must be evacuated."
"Didn't know Neville had it in him," Liar said with an impressed tone.
"I am oddly proud of him."
"Augusta is probably going to throw a fit. McGonogall was heartbroken, I bet. Gryffindor hasn't won the House Cup in how many years? Right when they had a massive lead they lose fifty points each for Neville, Granger, and Pott—…"
Grimm went silent.
…
"It's…one hundred fifty total," Norse wrote out the math.
"I know what three times fifty is, Norse! Shut it a moment!" Grimm exclaimed and started picking at her lip scar. "Potter…Potter…Potter…"
She turned to Dumbledore with a dangerous look.
…
"How likely is it that Voldemort will come out, if we dangle Harry Potter in front of him?"