A/N: WARNING: The following chapter delves into the T rating, with Violence the leading cause. If you believe that this deserves an M rating then please let me know before you complain to an Admin, I'm basing the contents of this rating on the PG-13 movies that I've seen dozens of. There will be no gore, sexual content or explicit descriptions.
Besides the violence there will be some really sad stuff coming along, although for a change our heroine is not directly involved... much. Death Eaters are some of the worst examples of the human race. Their tactics reflect the fact that they use terror and murder as tools to push their agenda.
Even some of the actions taken by the 'good guys' may seem questionable, all will be explained.
Just be aware that I'm sure I'll be forced to make several edit sweeps, as this has not had the usual tender care of my Beta, Mylady Phoenix, or much of any feedback from my usual crew.
As always, Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, with my thanks for letting me play with her toys.
CH7 The Return of Lord Voldemort
Returning to the previous night of Sunday, October 31st, 1993
Throughout magical Britain families gathered around their Wizarding Wireless boxes. Doors were double-locked and floos were password protected. Many people shuddered as they realized they were taking the same measures they took over a dozen years ago, back when... nobody wanted to complete that thought.
The wireless had been broadcasting sightings of the Dark Mark all over Britain. Finally, around 7:30 pm, a ministry spokesman announced that the government had gone on emergency alert. All Aurors were called to immediate active duty and citizens were warned to be go home and stay there.
Just over one hour later another official alert broke through the regular news reporting:
"This is a News Bulletin. The Minister for Magic, Cornelius Oswald Fudge, has been killed by a wizard claiming himself to be He-Who-Should-Not-Be-Named! In a lightning fast raid on Ministry offices, a group of wizards and witches forced their way into the atrium through the floo system. From there they killed or severely injured many of the senior staff, including the cold blooded murder of Minister Fudge as he tried valiantly to negotiate. The group all wore Death Eater paraphernalia and their leader was a grim, though younger looking man who we repeat, claimed himself to be none other than the Dark Lord himself! It is reported that the group left only moments before legendary wizard Albus Dumbledore arrived with a group of civilians ready for battle. Unfortunately, they found only death and destruction."
"Again, this is a Wizarding Wireless News Bulletin, The Minister for Magic is dead. Fudge, 77, has been replaced as interim Minister by former head of the Aurors, Rufus Scrimgeour. The Ministry itself is on high alert and all Aurors are recalled to active duty. Around the country there have been reports of deaths and disappearances of muggleborns leading up to today. Then around 6 pm, open attacks upon homes up and down our great British Isles have been reported on the muggle news. Unlike during the first war, the muggles are reportedly able to see the Dark Mark, though they unable to record the evil symbol that floats above these attacks with their primitive teknologee. Magical folk near these scenes have confirmed that they are in fact the Dark Mark last seen over a dozen years ago."
"We go now to a special announcement given by the interim Minister for Magic, Rufus Scrimgeour. Minister?"
"I urge all people listening to my voice to remain calm. This attack was well planned, but cowardly.
The Unspeakables tasked to research the dark lord known as Voldemort, who was defeated by Harry Potter exactly twelve years ago tonight, have briefed me on two very important details that all citizens need to know: Firstly, the man who calls himself Voldemort is one of two things: He is either an impostor or a shade. If he is an impostor then he's just another crackpot with an agenda and will be put down like the vermin he is. If this murderer is in fact a remnant of the madman we fought not so long ago, then he is still a man, and not even a whole one but a shade of the past.
Yes, a mere wizard like you or I, and what's more this blood supremacist maniac was a half-blooded wizard as well! His name was Tom Marvolo Riddle and he was born of a muggle father and the destitute witch who seduced him with potions. Tom was an exceptional student at Hogwarts but ultimately his thirst for power corrupted him. If this is indeed his shade, he will not be nearly as difficult to defeat this time around.
"The second thing is that the Unspeakables have uncovered irrefutable proof that to gain the dark mark a person must rape, torture And murder an innocent. Willingly. They cannot be compelled, even by use of the Unforgivable Imperius Curse."
"Just so we're clear: There will be no quarter or mercy given to the twisted, murderous rabble calling themselves "Death Eaters". The only way a surrender will be accepted is if they do not bear the Mark.
That should make it an easy choice for those of you who hear this broadcast: before you flock to this mad man for some revenge or riches, know that he is not only Not a pureblood, but you are signing your own death warrant should you stain your soul in his service."
"People of Britain, do not lay down your wands. Do not cower in fright. When you see a Death Eater, kill him like the coward he is. That is all."
(silence)
"I... that is, was, that was very inspiring. Yes, Minister for Magic Scrimgeour has laid it all out there, you don't..."
(The broadcast continues through the night, incidents of violence continue to be reported, but only against muggleborns. Scrimgeour's speech is repeated every hour, on the hour, for the next three straight days.)
What follows are scenes from battles around Britain, from the Night of Terror:
.o0o.
"You know," Tonks panted, sprinting up the hill, "Dumbledore has hundreds…" almost to the crest, "of those little guys…" She grunted to a stop as she dropped to her stomach, then went quiet. The young Auror and her partner remained silent for a moment, surveying the large stone cottage on the hillock. There was almost nothing to hide behind and the moss-covered rock they lay against gave proof that the Scottish Highlands are not a comfortable place to lay about at the end of October at night.
"What was your point?" Whispered the dark form laying next to her. His head slowly turned, eyes scanning, even looking behind them several times. He took in his partner's perfect Death Eater disguise and shuddered.
"Man, Moody really got to you, huh?" She grinned at his paranoia. "I was just thinking, since they get through these anti-aparition wards, it would have been nice to have one around, you know, a house elf?"
The quick flash of a grin was all Tonks got in answer before they both frowned. There was a noise, like a muffled 'pop', but not like an apparition, not even house-elven.
There it was again, they looked around, both returning their gaze towards the house. Then they felt the magic in the air shimmer as the anti-apparition ward suddenly fell.
"Didn't Diggory say the Death Eaters had just arrived?"
"Yeah…" her partner, Auror first class Robert 'Bob' Summers, was genuinely confused now. He didn't mind the chatter of the newbie, she did her job when the time came and it broke the monotony. Besides, her infiltration abilities were unmatched. "Guess you better do your thing."
Nymphadora Tonks disillusioned herself, then slowly worked her way down and away from her partner. Staying to the shadows wasn't an option as the cottage was situated at the flattened 'peak' of the only rise in the area. Coming up the far side of the rise she dispelled the charm and strode boldly towards the front door, just as a Death Eater would. She admired the strategic location, though she dismissed the idea of muggles choosing it for such a reason. Muggles didn't have any reason to build their home strategically for defense. 'Probably for the view…' was the thought in her head as she was blown off her feet backwards, tumbling head over heels down the hillside.
. . .
Not every encounter had gone quite so poorly. Though that was a matter of perspective.
"Ava.."
"CRU.."
"BOMB.."
"Sto.."
... *pant pant*
"In.."
"Ar.."
A pale witch dressed in dark lace stood panting, arms hanging limply at her sides as she faced the small man before her.
He didn't seem to have exerted himself at all.
Around them lay the wreckage of an old farm house, several fires burned and the roof had collapsed in one corner. Their makeshift battleground was strewn with the remains of two dozen Death Eaters and four Aurors, but thankfully no sign of the former residents.
Only the two combatants remained.
"Bellatrix Lestrange, your reputation far exceeds… ahht aht ahhh… as I was saying, it far exceeds your actual capabilities."
An outside observer would have been astonished to watch the Hogwarts Charms Professor simply twitch his wand and literally slap Bella's spells away by slapping her in the face with a magical force. Even her attempts at silent and wandless casting were brushed aside. Or in the case of the first spell she cast silently, the blast of furnace-hot air she thought would blow away the tiny man had instead nearly cooked her where she stood.
He also quite refused to let her move about, she hadn't been able to move more than her wand tip since he caught her with a spell she did not recognize. Even the small action of a wand-jab took every ounce of concentration she could muster.
While most people considered Bellatrix to be quite insane, she was also well known to be quite a cunning and deadly duelist. Well, that's what everyone believed. She certainly had. Now she was losing badly to a squeaky little half-breed. Her blood fairly boiled with impotent rage.
"Listen, Mrs. Lestrange, I believe it will be time for you to run along to your Master soon, so I will have to make ask you to pay attention. Albus is rather looking forward to besting his old student himself and he wanted you to give Riddle a message, personally."
It was she who now squeaked as her indignation at these insults made her eyes twitch and her ears turn a rather Weasley shade of red.
Redoubling her efforts, Bella threw her entire being into breaking free of the maddening hold that the runt held her in. Smoke actually began to curl from her wand tip as she poured her magic directly into destroying whatever spell he had used, she was counting on the backlash giving her time to recover and held nothing back…
At first nothing happened, then, little by little, Bella could feel the magic coursing through her. She focused all her might on that feeling, the way it rushed from her body to that one point, she started to shake and her teeth chattered around the sickly triumphant smile as finally she wrenched herself free and whipped up her wand. She'd recover later, but now:
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" She screamed, actually tearing her vocal cords in the process of her venting her victorious rage.
. . .
In yet another battle that night:
"To your left!"
A grey bolt smoked through the air over the Auror as he fell prone. Spinning on his free hand and one knee he brought up his wand and released one, two… three spells in quick succession as his partner deflected and evaded the attacks of the cornered Death Eater.
Across the room the black-robed murderer was forced back on the defensive. He shielded, moved out of the way and died, in that order.
Kingsley saluted the young man at the door and tossed a weak blasting hex through the doorway before rolling through into the kitchen. "Two dead here, one civy."
His tone was clipped and deliberate, no time for more as he quietly cast another revealing spell and once again dropped and rolled. His body was not impressed by all the dropping and rolling. While the spell had earlier revealed only one living person in the house since they'd defeated the three in the entry, he wasn't alive because he relied on revealing charms.
The burst of purple energy that the Death Eater had put through his recently vacated space would have made his body complain a lot more, if he had been hit. The Death Eater himself didn't appreciate the answering cutting curse that started at his mid-chest and left his right arm nearly severed.
The young Order member Stupefied the murderer from the doorway before the white-masked-man could react further. The large veteran leaned down and snatched the wand from the prone form. A quick search found the man's spare, both wands landed broken on the still man's chest. Neither of the 'good guys' bothered with their enemies wounds. Letting him bleed out would conserve already stained magical reserves and neither of the good guys had a whit of remorse over it.
A quick scan of the man's portkey revealed it to hold a powerful anti-detection ward. This only heightened the oddly matched pair's already paranoid-level of caution.
They moved on silenced feet towards a closed doorway at the back corner of the kitchen.
Outside, the sounds of battle were done, which the pair counted on as being good news. If their partners had lost their battle then the two inside would already be as good as dead: the Death Eaters would have sealed the house and engulfed it in flames. Anti-Apparition wards were already in place and both had used up their three port-keys getting civy's to safety. They focused on what could be the next fight, the door in the corner. The last part of the home left unexplored.
If the Death Eaters knew they were trapped, they would not surrender, and would likely kill every prisoner they had. Even if they were the rare more-cowardly-than-psychotic variety of Death Eater, Scrimgeour had made sure that surrender was a very unattractive proposition an hour ago.
Quickly recalling the layout thus far, the young man gestured with one hand: fingers walking down… Kingsley nodded, again whispering Homenum Revelio. Looking downward at the three markers floating in front of him, the Auror passed his hand over them one by one. One glowed faintly, another brightly, the third not at all. The third seemed to be in front of the second. He released the spell and turned to his young partner.
Leaning together the two conferred in whispers. "D.E. using the muggle as a shield?" Inquired the younger man, whose red hair caught the light through the kitchen window. The Auror nodded, a sharp, urgent movement that demanded more.
"Open the door, banish his buddy through, follow with a flash-bang, then we both do area Torporous followed by…"
"That should do it," the older wizard spoke with a small laugh, "Remember, we've got to save our strength."
The redhead nodded, his over-kill plan probably induced by the various cuts and bruises that fighting under powered most of the night had earned him. As well as way too many near death experiences for him to recall, especially for one short night.
A quick levitation spell put the fallen Death Eater in line for his fate. The younger wizard prepared the muggle device used by police and military strike teams the world over. Kingsley cast a localized silence on the lock, then unlocked it with a jab of his wand. In all their actions took fifteen seconds from the beginning of planning to being ready-to-implement. Unfortunately, their enemy was not idle during that short time.
With a nod, the pair were readying for action when the door opened before the Auror had released the spell… first revealing a little boy with a tear-stained face. The Death Eater standing behind and a few steps below the boy was just as surprised as the other two adults, but the child put it all into perspective when he saw the prone form by the stove. Once again, things happened rather quickly after that.
.o0o.
Some time the next morning, Monday, November 1st 1993
Bill shook himself, physically and mentally from reliving the fight, as Molly nudged him gently on the shoulder. "Bill... the kids."
Looking around he found himself the center of attention. He saw quite a few faces in the crowd that he knew were 'his'. By ones and twos he picked out the faces of children, and in one case parents too, who he had helped live through last night. Each one of them seemed so precious now. He thought about them instead of the ghosts that likely lingered where he was too late.
"Bill..." His mother again.
"Yes, mum?"
"Say hello, you've been introduced." She admonished, but her words were filled with worry instead of reproach.
'Oh.' He thought. "Oh. Hello." He smiled sheepishly. "I'm Bill Weasley, I, uh, well keep watch on the place for Lord Black."
The fact that both Molly and Sirius snorted at his use of the title of the scion of House Black was not missed by many. As loud as the two snorts combined were, only the truly distraught could have missed it. Even they were hard pressed to miss a few chuckles that swept the staff that were dispersed in the crowd as both adults looked at each other with grins. Bill was just happy to see his mum smiling again. Finally.
The Weasley male turned to see the eldest 'child' of their group staring off, lost in thought. Dark thoughts by the look on her face. She appeared to be old enough that she should have been at one of the safe houses with schools. He knew there was a story there, that Sirius and Minerva had both taken an interest in her, but didn't know more.
He wondered, briefly, if she had any siblings. She reminded him, the way she stared dully at nothing, of another girl he'd seen last night. Before he could stop it the memory he had just been shaken from came back with a remembered scream.
. . .
"Daddy!"
"Avada…"
"Depulso!"
"Get Do…
The battle took three seconds.
"Daddy!" The child stood in front of the Death Eater and screamed at his father's still form, just to the side of the doorway.
The wand of the Death Eater began to glow green.
The still-masked body of his fallen comrade slammed into his shoulder.
And Bill Weasley pulled his third feat of dual casting of the night, wandlessly summoning the boy while attempting to disarm the killer in the doorway.
Between the boy being torn from his free hand, the body hitting his shoulder and his wand almost leaping from his hand, the killing curse never quite finished.
The first time he tried.
The second time he began the Unforgivable curse both wizards of the Light stopped holding back.
Bill put the boy to sleep shortly thereafter to stop his hysterics. They found the body of his twelve year old sister, the muggle-born witch the Death Eaters had come to kill, at the bottom of the stairs.
Signaling with short message charms, the team began to clear out signs of the magical struggle.
They left no bodies of friend, foe or victim. It would be up to the healers and obliviators to decide the boy's fate.
The team healed up, took some nourishment and left for their next assignment.
The mission was a success in that they had lost none of their team.
It was a success in that they killed four and captured one Death Eater, who hadn't managed to bleed to death before the healer got there.
It was a success in that they saved a life.
They dared not think of anything else.
. . .
With those thoughts Bill again looked around the yard full of children and a very few parents. It was going on nine in the morning. What would they do if the Death Eaters attacked again tonight?
.o0o.
Returning to the previous night of Sunday, October 31st, 1993
The Headmaster stood against one of the remaining solid walls, cloaked not in magic, but natural shadows. He had long ago learned that to trust in magic entirely led to being betrayed by it. One had to keep ones wits sharp as well. Watching his oldest friend goad and taunt the formidable witch had been quite a wake-up call. If one of Voldemort's most powerful followers could be bested by Filius's invention, it was a great step towards the end of this "Voldemort's" return.
Looking about at the carnage, he only wished he could have arrived earlier.
Then the true power of the most feared witch in Britain seemed to come to bear as she snapped her invisible bonds and literally screamed the most feared curse of all.
But no Killing Curse formed to fulfill her monumental act of magical power. In fact, nothing happened at all.
Well, except for the small man clapping his hands and squeaking out: "It worked!"
"Well done, most impressive my old friend!" Albus stepped out from his concealment. "It is rather demanding in setup and timing, but the results are beyond refute." The aged Headmaster turned to the re-paralyzed Death Eater. "Now, let us have that useless stick of yours, hmm?"
The question was of course less a request and more of a flowery way of disarming the one-time powerful witch.
Peering into the witches wide open eyes, the leader of the light scrunched up his brow. The look was reflected in the low 'hmmm' that Albus Dumbledore gave as he narrowed his eyes and glared at the witch before him.
"Now, Bella, I can see that you do indeed believe this to be your risen Master. I believe the message I would like you to deliver to your half-blooded psychotic 'lord' is this: 'If you are in fact Tom Riddle, I will continue defeating you until you cannot return.' Repeat the words, Bellatrix." The old wizard spoke low and calm, as he floated the broken halves of Bella's wand back to her, tucking one behind each of her ears. She repeated the message word for word, even using Dumbledore's speech inflections. "Good. You will deliver that message, and then the block on magic will be released."
Professor Flitwick physically recoiled as the elder mage forced his spell work into the mind of the defeated witch.
With that, Bella found herself involuntarily reaching up to her choker and grasping the small red stone – her emergency portkey. At first nothing happened, and then, with a sickening pain in her stomach, Bella realized why when Dumbledore looked back at her and spoke. "Oh, you may go now," then it activated.
Once all of the Death Eater bodies had been gathered for delivery to a secure morgue, the wizards each departed for separate destinations. Filius gathered the fallen Aurors and returned to Auror headquarters for another team assignment and Albus apparated to Order Headquarters to get an update. Neither of them reported on their accomplishment.
.o0o.
"Merlin!" Bob swore as the blast ripped through the silence of the night. He counted on the enemy not having a fix on his position and sent up a modification of the lumos maximus spell, the delayed effect not bursting into light until it reached twenty feet away from him. By the time it went off he had apparated to Tonks and then took both of them to the rally point at the base of the hill behind the only bush big enough to offer cover. He thanked all the Saints he could remember that the anti-aparition ward had gone down.
Laying her down, the veteran officer noted there was no blood, but that Tonks had reverted to her normal form. Easily tearing through the remains of her Junior Auror robe, he found the reason for the lack of blood: a strangely bumpy dragon-hide vest. A check of her pulse confirmed that inside that vest was a very lucky young woman, lucky to be alive. Then the experienced Auror noted something about the blast around her armored chest. There were dozens of small pellets embedded in the magically tough hide. He hadn't been around this long not to know a Muggle weapon. But it did take all of the clues before he realized Tonks hadn't been cursed, she'd been shot!
Concentrating, the Auror whispered a quick phrase and then quickly put a proximity alarm. That done he cast the status charm and sighed in relief as he passed his wand over his partner's head. Just unconscious… oh, as he reached her mid-section he revised his plan to tickle the woman to wakefulness… unconscious with four broken ribs. Ouch. Impedimenta, he whispered, keeping her from further harm while he re-positioned her immobilized form deeper into the brush.
Bob settled in to wait, occasionally recasting the status charm to keep tabs on his beat-up partner. It was around ten minutes later when a shrill bird call to his left brought him low and wand out. He gave a quick hoot and waited. The hoot was returned and Bob began to make out the fuzzy outline of three disillusioned figures as they entered his ward perimeter. Once they were about ten feet away he gave the challenge from his covered position. "Constant…"
"Moody's mantra," came back through the darkness. "SITREP?" The old Auror himself asked as the three newcomers crowded in and settled behind the natural blind. 'Too bad she missed this, Tonks would have laughed herself silly watching Moody give his own pass-code. "Sitrep indeed".' His thoughts might have been light, but his face was impassive as he listed off his 'situation report' even as he was thinking. 'Where does he come up with these terms?'
"There appears to be a muggle holed up in the cottage, I believe he killed the DE that cast the AA ward just as we were making our initial survey, as that's when we felt the ward drop. We weren't here long enough to gather any other info before the sounds, which I now realize were small arms fire. Tonks was… disguised as a DE and circled around from my position to approach the house and try to get invited in as we have been doing all night. That's when the bastard shot her, birdshot, heavy gauge shotgun to the chest." All four looked towards the incapacitated young Auror. "Vest saved her life, four broken ribs and a concussion, but she'll live."
"So… why are we here?" This from a dark haired youth, still crouched next to Moody. The third fellow was busy keeping lookout.
"Diggory reported that one or both of the Lestrange brothers was with the group. They've taken to wearing those blood red stripes on their robes, like rank, and they were reportedly only worn by the inner-circle. Additionally the brothers are the only known inner-circle members who hunt in the same group. Diggory reported seeing two DE's with red stripes on their robes arrive."
"Good Intel Summers, action plan?" The retired Auror commended then demanded.
Bob hesitated, thinking things over, but the younger Auror didn't hold back.
"If a muggle shot Tonks for wearing the DE's getup, I say we post a lookout and wait till tomorrow. We need every able body out there, it's still happening." His voice was passionate, and they all knew he was right, at least about the last part.
"But if either of the Lestranges are still alive, we have to capture them alive… they could be an intel gold mine. Besides, with as many attacks as are happening, there has to be a very organized plan, a plan with a schedule to it. When they don't return, this will be a high-priority target." Bob finished, his tone thoughtful, trying to see any flaws in his own logic.
"Bellatrix or Voldemort will certainly show." Moody agreed.
To his credit, Auror Summers didn't shudder at the name.
"Bob, Justin and I will remain on post. Portus," the old Auror picked up a stick and created a portkey, then handed it to the junior Auror. "Ethan, you take Tonks to St. Mungo's and find Healer Price when you get there. Don't let anyone else do anything to her. Tell her "patch her up for Moody" and you two should be able to get back for the fireworks. While you're at it repeat the alert to Dumbledore. He's almost constantly in motion though and these message charms aren't any good at tracking folks so send a patronus to Order HQ, he'll check in there. And you keep a watch on her until Price is done; I don't want some Death Eater scum in disguise taking out our best covert agent while she's unconscious.
Ethan arrived at St. Mungo's at a quarter past nine pm. He left with a somewhat groggy Auror Tonks at a quarter to eleven pm.
. . .
Elsewhere, things had again been going a little better for the Light side.
"Get out! It's Dumbledore!" The Death Eater screamed, sprinting back out of the doorway he'd just entered.
"No. No. Not you either." The old man's voice rang clear in the night, with each word another Death Eater was yanked from their feet and came flying awkwardly back into the small house.
The three would-be murderers didn't make it to the ward line they had erected. They joined their companions, the first two to enter, which had found Dumbledore in their target house. All were now entombed in their own robes. They were obviously alive by the way they all continued to squirm after the old wizard had left. Within moments a house elf popped in and then away with them one by one.
. . .
Back on that hill, again.
Tonks fell asleep and the others let her, even providing a cushioning charm under her. Then a warming charm and a small silence spell to let her rest up.
An hour later the group, including a much restored Tonks and the recently arrived Headmaster, moved up the hill. Somehow, though rather haggard looking in the wan moonlight, Albus Dumbledore was still chipper as he announced that he had "just the thing" and began weaving a spell.
Soon the group was standing a hundred feet from the house, cloaked in a mist that the headmaster had created, though with his magical eye, Moody could see perfectly into the stone-built home.
He quietly murmured his report: "Three moving, two with big guns. One looks to be tied to a chair. Two… no, there they are, four bodies stacked two on two, blocking the back door. I'd say they must have drank more coffee than we did." The grizzled veteran finished his report with a snort.
"Coffee?" inquired the Headmaster.
"Ran outta pepper-ups three hours ago," the old Auror replied. "Got hooked on the stuff doing training with muggle detective squad that're all squibs... besides, the younger crowd swear by the stuff, and with the night we're having, we've made do."
The twinkle returned briefly to the aged eyes of the greatest wizard of the age as he gently goaded, "I thought you were retired?" His grin broadened at his old friend's grunted reply before he returned a speculative look at the house. He seemed to be thinking for some time and the motley group stood tiredly around him in complete silence, the expectation clear on every face but Moody's.
Then Albus Dumbledore did what the rest of them were hoping he would. He got them their prisoner and nobody got hurt. Taking a small gold flute from one of his myriad pockets, he asked the rest of them to slip down the hill a ways until they only heard the echo of the song.
They immediately complied, although Ethan and Tonks both cast reluctant glances in the direction of the cottage, even though Tonks needed the support of Ethan's arm to navigate down the rocky hillside. Soon they heard a gentle tune and only felt the slightest urge to lay down right there on the stone and heather. Of course after the night they had just had, this was more than enough to cause a mighty struggle for the minute or so Albus played.
Popping down to them, Albus turned to Ethan, "Take miss Tonks back to St. Mungo's and have them look at her lower back. She didn't tell them about the pain, and I'm afraid she will regret that for at least a week if untreated."
The look Tonks gave the old wizard was a mix of disbelief and embarrassment. She didn't have any protest when the young Auror took her arm. Together they disappeared with a crack.
Turning to the remaining three, the Headmaster smiled, his eyes alight in the scant moonlight. "We have succeeded, if nothing else this night, in crippling the madman's inner circle. Good work, now get some rest. It is over, for tonight."
. . .
Once back at Headquarters, Albus presented Sirius Black with their first high-profile prisoner for their newly renovated 'holding cells'. In the wizened wizards hand he held a life-like doll of none other than Rabastan Lestrange.
.o0o.
Professor McGonagall tried to calm her nerves. Again. She was back at the castle and could not wait to finish her morning class to go see the survivors at 12 Grimauld Place, one witch in particular. She had to stop at St. Mungo's on the way though, to check on that reckless boy. The only one of her team that had survived the night.
Her mind drifted once again to her last battle of that horrible night.
. . .
Minerva shielded quickly, then flicked her wand and shielded again. A marble flew from her hand and expanded into a slab of granite, blocking the incoming Killing Curse. The results of her first wand flick bore fruit as the debris-turned-scorpions swarmed and distracted both of the cowardly killers hiding at either end of the wall. She promptly turned their defensive position to runny mud and then back to rock in a pair of seconds, turning away from the rather unpleasant results.
Creating a portkey, she returned the downed Auror to St. Mungos. Returned, because the brash young man had come back after losing sight in one eye and, well, it was a terrible curse, yet he came back. He'd almost died with the rest of his unit, but his presence had also likely saved her life.
She had activated the emergency portkeys of her fallen comrades next, not wanting to leave their bodies to the possible return of the Death Eater that had fled moments ago. Transfiguring the dead was less taxing, since she had no care for their surviving the process, and in minutes the scene had no direct evidence of the magical combatants. The Ministry clean-up crews were not equipped to handle three battles in a day, let alone thirty per hour for... she glanced at her thin watch. "Gracious God, six hours?"
Sighing aloud, Minerva turned away from the carnage of the first floor, feeling weary to her bones. The creation of a portkey was no small bit of magic and the elderly professor was starting to realize her fighting days may well be behind her.
She certainly felt her age, and then some, as she climbed the stairs. That weariness was much alleviated when she found the family safe behind the couch.
"Alright, let's get gone before another batch show themselves, shall we?"
Herding the group together like a bunch of first years it never occurred to her that they would not obey. Perhaps it was that supreme attitude of confidence that caused them to do just what she said. She placed each of their hands on the small rope and activated the enchanted item. They would be taken care of at the safe house, and with any luck this house of theirs would still be standing when it was all over. She wouldn't take odds on that though...
With another, shorter sigh, Minerva glanced about the nicely decorated den, pausing to look over the pictures on the wall. Five family members pictured, five family members portkeyed away. One entire family, whole and uninjured. That was her high point of the night. They hadn't even witnessed any of the fighting. She doubted the obliviators would have much trouble and that was another reason for celebration. She tallied them one by one, holding each victory as precious and specifically denying herself any time to dwell on the losses.
With a flick she transformed the dozen or so pictures into a miniature album and tucked it into her pocket. Come morning the house might not be standing, but the family was, and she could at least save their pictures. Smiling thinly, the Gryffindor lioness disappeared with a crack.
.o0o.
Ten till midnight, Sunday, October 31st, 1993
(A tall dark haired man looks around, holding his hand to his ear. Turning to look straight into the camera, he begins to speak. The scene behind him shows a large building on fire.)
"Charles Simmons on the scene of yet another massive fire tonight as the world now watches in horror along with the people of Great Britain. The apartment building behind me is a total loss as you can see. The only good news is that, as it came on the heels of so many other disasters on this terrible night, the response time for evacuation was as good as could be hoped for. Only one family – certainly the original targets – is confirmed to have been lost to the blaze. Many were taken to local hospitals for smoke inhalation, however there have been no other fatalities reported. This is Charles Simmons live from Wood Green, back to Jim Benson in the studio."
(The scene returns to the studio where a stately looking man looks up, his face solemn and drawn in exhaustion.)
"To cover again our main story, police are baffled to find any link between any of the victims one to another. Analysts report that the targeted victims seem to come from almost all possible racial, economic and regional backgrounds as well as a broad… hold on please."
(The reporter seems to be listening to something, he nods and then a sheet of paper is slipped on to the counter before him.)
"OneNews has in fact made a connection, the one thing that ties all of these targeted victims together, and I'll beg you to wait just one moment for that revelation, because OneNews has uncovered another, perhaps more sinister happening which has been overridden in the news by the tragic fires.
"Members of the press from around the country have discovered that there has been a massive campaign of kidnapping across our land. Many families throughout Britain have been confirmed to have gone missing without a trace. Worst cases have found signs of a struggle at the residences and in some cases evidence of violence but still others cases have left no clues at all. Vehicles and personal belongings remain and yet whole families are just gone. The bizarre cases of missing people now total one hundred eighty seven at this time. Now I mentioned the tie that binds those who were attacked? It is the very same tie that binds these missing families. Yes, that's right, families. In every single case, without exception, those attacked and those 'vanished' include children between the ages of toddlers up to teens. We have no further information, and of course we gave this information to the authorities as soon as it became verifiable. Unfortunately it raises more questions than it answers.
(The reporter seems to be lost for a moment, shakes his head and sighs. He is obviously disheartened.)
"Going back to the attacks, we've received updated numbers, the grim tally at this time is one hundred forty one known dead, including fire fighters and others who tried to save the victims. The number injured is expected to be closer to four hundred.
"The police have now stated that a terrorist group is being blamed for these attacks, but no one has stepped forward to lay claim. In related news, the IRA released a public statement denying any involvement and furthermore claiming that any information they discover would be given to the authorities."
The TV is turned off by a fat, scruffy looking man in a waist-coat and tails. He scurries to close the cabinet which houses the old-fashioned console style television. He locks the cabinet with an elaborate, old-fashioned skeleton key (though most do not glow when used as this does). Once this act is complete he walks as quickly as he can without running to pick up a tray and stand still beside an ornate high-backed dark-wooden chair. At no time does he look at the man seated in the throne-like seat.
The occupant of the 'throne' releases a sigh, a sound easily recognized as resigned acceptance by millions of children with a cough or cold. Taking a glass from the tray, it is not a child but rather an elegantly dressed man which reluctantly sniffs at the grey-green substance and then quickly tosses it back, swallowing the contents.
Giving an involuntary shudder, the drinker suppresses any noise, closing his oddly shaped eyes in the effort.
The servant has already poured a glass of water and presents it. The man, who appears almost aristocratic in his bearing and dress, accepts the drink with a gracious nod of his head, though he has not yet opened his eyes.
Seated on a throne, attended by a servant, this is the picture of a some sort of minor lord or elite gentleman. However the lord of this domain would be hard to described as a typical gentleman. His sallow complexion and somewhat sunken, hollow-cheeked appearance causes an overall effect that emphasizes the man's skull. (It also makes guessing his age a hazard.)
Then of course there are his eyes. For when he opens them to look at his servant, the dull red is not just the color of his iris, it is in fact the color of his entire eye. It is also noteworthy that his servant, a man who has been with him constantly for some time now, quickly looks away from his Master's gaze.
If this bothers his Master, it does not show on his emotionless features. Setting the empty goblet on the tray, the man speaks, and like his face, it is not a voice one would describe as… gentlemanly.
"Peter… tell my followers to come in now." The lord rasped to his servant.
.o0o.
A/N: Well, there we have it. The battles were short, pitched affairs for the most part.
It is an unfortunate reality that I found myself doing a lot of flash-backs in this chapter. I will try to avoid such a heavy reliance upon them in the future, however this chapter is mostly a "fill-in-the-blanks" chapter, covering the events of October 31st in greater detail and from many perspectives.
Recommended reading is Vox Corporis by MissAnnThropic, a truly prolific and versatile author. Another warning, this story may hit the squicky button for younger/more reserved readers.
Thanks to all of you who have reviewed chapters 1-6, I truly do appreciate it!
A special thanks to saris305, Emmet Jasper Carlisle, Fruitality, archaicwords and Guest for your reviews of chapter 6.
Blessings
Majerus