The Outlaw
By: Tellemicus Sundance
Chapter 7—Fiery Tempers

July 9, 1996
Tuesday, 10:22pm
Cotswold Hills, Gloucestershire

Opening the door to his motorhome, Darius let out a long, suffering sigh. He so very much despised all forms of ancient magical transportation. And the fact that he needed to use a Portkey just to enter Hogsmeade so he could scope out the situation didn't help his mood in the least. Why did those bluebloods need to be so hung up in tradition and the long-past Golden Years of Witchcraft and Wizardry, which were better known as the Dark Ages?

Portkeys seemed to have been created for the specific purpose of disorienting a person by the immeasurably fast speeds they were spun at, always making Darius sick to his stomach with motion sickness. The Floo always, without fail, got him covered in ridiculous amounts of soot and sent him careening the ground upon arrival. And Apparation…he shuddered violently just at the mere thought of it! Thank goodness he didn't have to use any of those all that often, or he'd have gone pure Mundane long ago.

"Hey, Potter," he called out as he moved to the fridge, fishing out a Bud Light. Beer always helped him recover and settle down a bit faster after taking Portkeys. "I've got some news you won't like to hear."

He waited a moment, but received no answer in reply. Trying again, with a louder voice, he yelled, "Potter?" And still got no answer.

'Great, he must've gone out again, damn kid,' he grumbled to himself. It was more that he was irritated at the world in general than any spitefulness towards the quiet boy that had him grumbling. Finishing off the beer quickly, he ambled up to the driver's seat, reaching into the glove box and extracting a small mirror. Placing the mirror flat on the table behind him, he touched a pair of symbols on its edge as he clearly stated, "Show me Harry Potter."

The Scrying Mirror was a very useful tool. Once it was held by a person, whether willingly or not, it would be able to locate and show the person's location on a map and what the person's physical condition was. And, if the person was close enough, it could even show a five-second image of what the person was doing when the handler used the mirror. Of course, there were ways to fool the Mirror, the most commonly known being the Fidelius Charm.

The Scrying Mirror lit up with a blinding flash of light for a moment. Then, as the light faded, a holographic-like image of a map of the surrounding lands appeared. In the center of the map was the motorhome, which Darius recognized easily despite the bird's-eye-view. Off maybe a mile or two to the west, in the middle of a small town that the Scrying Mirror labeled 'Tetbury' was a small green icon indicating Harry. Also, because of the realistic image that the Mirror was giving, Darius could see that most of the town was in ruins, flames and black smoke pluming out of it, hordes of people fleeing it on foot or in vehicles.

"What the hell is he doing there?" Darius demanded aloud. Tapping another set of symbols, the image shifted to show Harry. And what he saw immediately had Darius jumping to his feet and rushing for his room and the awaiting stores of weaponry. "This is not good!"

Wizengamot, Ministry Building
10:30am

The meeting had just begun and already there was nothing but minor bickering and bad news being shared among the wizards and witches. The meeting consisted of the remaining members of the Wizengamot, a reporter or two who'd be chronicling the discussion for the new wizarding newspaper (the Daily Seer) which had opened two days prior, a number of aides for the Wizengamot members, and of course the new Minister of Magic.

Despite himself and the circumstances, Percy Weasley felt a sense of absolute and unbridled joy welling up inside his chest as he watched over the meeting of the most powerful magical country's most influential bureaucrats. A joy that had momentarily threatened to break loose of his control and put a large sneering grin on his face, which would not have been appropriate in this time or setting. With his well-known self-control, Percy suppressed both his desire to grin at his own success and get himself to pay attention to the various discussions and arguments taking place.

This had been Percy's dream since he was a mere seven-year-old child taken to a Wizengamot assembling by his father for some minor discussion that needing closure at the time. Ever since that day, oh-so-long ago, Percy had made it his life's goal to become the next Minister of Magic. But not even in his wildest dreams did he ever truly believe that he would—or even could—accomplish that dream so early in his life. Sadly, the payment of having his 'secret' desire fulfilled was the loss of his mentor and idol, Minister Fudge.

Percy sat in a large, throne-like chair at the front of the large chamber. The chamber itself would've been best compared to an amphitheater. There was a raised dais upon which Percy, his two aides, and an Auror hiding in the shadows were located. In front of them were curving rows of seats where the Wizengamot sat. As was traditional, the most influential members were granted seats of privilege up near the front and closest to the Minister's ear. The rest were ranked accordingly as followed with the lesser members being seated ever higher up, near the top. And the journalists and reporters lined the sides of the chamber, quietly taking notes, pictures, and sharing their own opinions with one another.

It was the first meeting of the Wizengamot since the Great Disaster, as the Seer was calling the destruction of the previous Ministry building and following escape of the dragons. The meeting itself had started out civil enough, with various Department Heads explaining the current state of affairs and problems that their people were experiencing. But when the issue of the rapidly declining amount of government funds that were available were brought up and which departments were in most demand of more resources, that was when the fighting and arguing began. It went without saying that the Department of Magical Law Enforcement would be receiving a considerable amount to assist them in maintaining peace and order in Hogsmeade and wherever else they were needed. And as such, that Department, now headed by Pius Thicknesse, was actually keeping out of the arguing and fittingly trying to play the role of peacekeeper. But it was all of the others that were causing the needless bickering of who deserved more money and why or why not.

'This is sickening,' Percy thought with great disgust as he watched the controlled pandemonium take place. 'The leaders of the Ministry, meant to watch over and govern the people, reduced to this. All because of that damn Potter brat.' It was naïve of him to think that, he knew. But he needed someone to blame all this on, if only to keep him disconnected and from joining in the bickering.

"That is enough!" he yelled, using his wand to throw up a shower of sparks over the assembly. The magic and his voice helped to curb the arguments very quickly, some of which were nearing to the point of violence. Seeing that he'd once again regained control of the Wizengamot, Percy turned to Dirk Cresswell, "Mr. Cresswell, you speak for the gold. Tell me, what is to be done—within reason—of our existing budget?"

"Minister," Cresswell said, nodding in respect as he stood up from his seat to be seen and heard by all. As the Goblin Liaison, it of course fell to Cresswell to keep as accurate a log of all Ministry expenses as possible. "I am afraid that there is not much to be done. The evacuation, relocation, and construction of the Ministry were extremely costly ventures. The Goblins are demanding obscene taxes for them to dig a tunnel to the vaults so they can transport and relocate the vaults' contents. And finally, the expected payments for all of the employees working overtime since the Great Disaster are going to be entire fortunes unto themselves."

"What does that mean to me, Mr. Cresswell?" Percy demanded irritably. He was not in the mood for fancy words and long speeches.

"…The Ministry has become bankrupt and will remain so for quite some time until the needed taxes and loans have been paid off," Cresswell explained. He, like all the others in the Wizengamot had noted Percy's ire quite quickly. And it was a well-documented fact that an irate Minister was never a good thing. "We can buy time, or rather borrow for it. The most viable option open is to ask for loans from the other magical Ministries or benefactors. There are available strongboxes of gold from Sicily to Norway if you know where to look."

"The last thing this Ministry needs is to open an outstanding debt to some other country," one of the Wizengamot loudly declared from the crowd. "We are above such methods to plead to foreign Mudbloods for gold."

"We may be," Cresswell answered quickly before anyone else could speak up. "But our treasury is not." Turning his attention back to Percy, he nodded submissively as he said, "That is a fact, Minister."

Percy merely beckoned him to return to his seat now that he'd spoken his piece. Despite himself, Percy let out a tiny sigh of relief that Cresswell had not called him by his family name. Right now, with his parents and siblings being such fools and bigots, the last thing he wanted was to be reminded of his bad fortune of being borne from such an estranged lot. Well, he'd certainly had that taken care of already. All he needed was the grand introduction before he could put it to use.

Facing the Wizengamot, he asked, "What is the situation for the people?"

This time Department Head Thicknesse stood up. "I have confirmed reports of no less than twenty families' homes being overrun, burned, or otherwise compromised by the dragons, looting bandits, Dark wizards, Magical Creatures, and even Muggles; all from the London area or southern England and Wales. Many families and, especially, the children have already repeatedly broken the Statute of Secrecy by doing magic blatantly in front of Muggles in the aforementioned areas. Dark Creatures run rampart through the towns and villages, particularly the werewolves in Wales. Food has become a scarce commodity due to the Muggle factories and roads being attacked and destroyed by dragons. Thousands of suburban survivors have fled to the countryside, I've heard countless reports of riots and violence taking place everywhere and—"

"I don'tcare about the Muggles!" Percy interrupted, his yelling cutting off Thicknesse easily. "Our worries are with our folk! We'll leave the Muggles to clean up their own messes for now!"

"Sir?" Thicknesse asked, cocking his head to the side slightly in confusion. Maybe it was his imagination, but Minister Weasley's last sentence…seemed odd.

"What has happened to the families who had to flee?" Percy demanded, visibly recollecting himself before he lost his composure and let something slip unintentionally. He wasn't ready to unveil his first act as Minister just yet.

"We have placed the ones we could find in temporary rooms in The Three Broomsticks," Pius answered quickly, still eyeing the young Minister suspiciously as were a fair number of the other members.

"They can take care themselves," Amos Diggory grumbled loudly. "Let us focus on more pressing issues, like our own stores of food." There was a quiet mumbling of general agreement amongst the gathered wizards and witches to that statement.

"How many remaining supplies do we have?" Percy asked, his demeanor once again calm and calculating.

Thicknesse sat down as another wizard stood up in his place. "We have enough food set aside to feed our people for a whole month. But the stores would last longer if we placed a ration limit on it, three months at most. After that, we'll have to start cooperating with the Muggles to get some more grain, meats, and vegetables."

"And with our already stressed budget," Cresswell spoke up momentarily. "That will dry up whatever we'd managed to save or regain by that point."

"If we have to purchase them…" someone pointed out anonymously.

Despite his best efforts, a small grin spread across Percy's face as he heard that. It was the perfect opening he needed to begin introducing his plans to the Wizengamot. Because it was so small, none the assembled wizards or witches noticed his expression in time to wonder about it.

"And that is precisely why we're not going to," Percy announced loudly, cutting off what little chatter had developed from that last statement.

"What do you have in mind…Minister?" Tiberius Ogden asked, an old supporter of Dumbledore who'd recently reclaimed his seat to aid in the Disaster efforts as best he could. For him, it was very hard to accept that the new Minister of Magic, arguably the most powerful individual of the greatest magical community of the Wizarding World, was not but a mere boy who'd likely only just learned to shave!

Seeing that he'd suitably gotten the attentions of the entire chamber, Percy put on a serious expression to better convey his conviction in what he knew would be a greatly controversial decision. Waving his wand, he sent a copy of documents flying from the desk of one of aides to each member of the Wizengamot, and even a few to the gathered journalists and reporters. "As the Minister of Magic, I am hereby repealing the Statute of Secrecy and commencing the Decree of Free Magical Usage, effective immediately."

There was a near immediate roar of voices as the Wizengamot erupted into a din of disapproving shouts. Not even the reporters were unaffected, many had begun making notes instantly, their Quick-Quotes Quills racing across their parchments like frantic dancers, positively eating up this new development. Percy allowed the din of disapproval to occur, having fully expected it and knowing that they'd be easier to coerce once they'd gotten their first responses fully voiced, even if no else but their neighbors could hear them.

After several minutes, Percy's patience was worn out and he sent another shower of sparks flying, slowly bringing the rebelling council back into general silence.

"We cannot break the Statute!" a witch yelled angrily. "We are not prepared to handle the consequences!"

"The ICW will never condone this and we will all be imprisoned for facilitating it!"

"And the public response, both Muggle and Magical, will most likely eventually lead to bloodshed and violence! It has always been the Statute and our strict enforcement of it that has kept our lands in order and safe for centuries."

"SILENCE!" Percy yelled, his voice carrying as though it had been enhanced by a Sonorus. "In case you all have forgotten, one of the key features of the Statute of Secrecy is 'the concealment, care, and control of all Magical Creatures,' including most especially dragons!" That brought an immediate silence to the naysayers. "And, as Mr. Thicknesse has stated, numerous wizards and witches have already or should've broken the Statute, whether to fight the dragons from destroying their homes or to protect their families from the Muggles, whom we've long allowed to overrun our lands!"

Though he didn't know it at the time, Percy had just struck a very sensitive but well-concealed cord in many of the gathered wizards and witches. It had nothing to do with their beliefs of right and wrong, blood status, or even society as a whole. It was their pride. Like a long, festering wound, the Statute of Secrecy had been both a burden and gift to the magical folk. It kept them safe since it forced them to restrain themselves, but it also restricted their ability to keep or protect that which they thought of as theirs, and usually from the ever-growing population of Muggles. Over the centuries, the Muggles had slowly but steadily chipped away at the Wizards' property lines and even run them off their ancestral lands completely in some cases. That was a painful sting to their prides. And, to a wizard, there was nothing that mattered more than their pride, not even their own lives in some cases.

Continuing on forcefully with his well-rehearsed speech, Percy said, "The Statute of Secrecy has been little more than an agreement made in a long ago past by a group of wizards and witches who were too fearful and too greedy to do what needed to be done to keep order and safety in society. The Statute has been a burden ever since. And with the chaos that the dragons have been creating since their escape, to not use all of our resources to aid us would be a damning mistake to us as a governing body and a people. It is a mistake that I will not condone!"

Seeing several nods of agreement from various members, most notably the most influential of the purest families, Percy let a small smile grace his lips for a split second in satisfaction. But he suppressed it quickly thereafter. "The days of Wizards hiding in the shadows are over! They are over! From now on, we will rule these lands as we should've long ago."

"So you wish to turn Great Britain into a true magical country?" Madam Edgecomb, Percy's Undersecretary, spoke up, asking the question that was on the minds of all present. "To seize total control of this land will not be possible for us quite some time. We are stretched far too thinly, Minister."

"That is entirely true, Madam Edgecomb," Percy agreed, nodding towards the woman. "This is why we will expand our borders slowly. We will first take control of all the major cities, factories, and farms of Scotland. We will be the overlords of the Muggles, governing and taxing them. And with the crisis of the dragons, they are far too disorganized and scrambling to combat them and protecting themselves from infighting to be of any real threat to us."

"You are implying that we begin a hostile invasion of the Muggle World, sir," Thicknesse pointed out, his eyes narrowed slightly at the idea. "Even if we had the manpower to do so, we Aurors are keepers of the peace, not soldiers. And I know for a fact that there certainly aren't enough Hitwizards to do the job either, not even discreetly."

This time Percy didn't even try to restrain the grin that broke across his face. "That is true. And you are currently quite busy with many other affairs at present as well, which is why this job shall not be yours." That brought quite a few murmurs of confusion and suspicion across the gathered wizards.

Using his wand once again, Percy sent another group of pamphlets flying over to his audience as he continued his speech. "As you may or may not know, I was the one to document and process Minister Fudge's plans for rebuilding and strengthening the Ministry before his death. And in those plans, I came across a very intriguing proposition. To create a new branch of law enforcement, one that would wield above-the-law powers to hunt down and capture or execute known or suspected criminals, dissidents, and Undesirables who were seeking to control or disrupt the Ministry."

"Is that not what the Aurors are for?" someone asked in confusion.

"Of course," Percy answered, frowning. "And they have proven themselves to be quite brilliant at their jobs." There was no mistaking the sarcasm in his tone. "They have allowed corruption to spawn uncontrollably throughout all levels in the Ministry, were unable to locate or stop You-Know-Who during the early days of his rise to power, and have been unable to find the one little half-trained wizard who was responsible for the destruction of the Ministry in the first place! Not to mention, the numerous incidents which have occurred at Hogwarts in recent years."

Thicknesse was glaring quite heatedly at Percy for each insult to his Department, but otherwise kept himself quiet. The sad fact of the matter was that the boy-leader was telling the complete and honest truth.

"Due to the Aurors' incompetence, I have already created and enlisted various wizards and witches into this new department," Percy declared, pride quite evident in his voice and stature, which only increased as he saw more than a few of the Wizengamot shift in surprise or unease.

"Why have we not been informed of this beforehand?" Thicknesse asked, voicing the one question they all shared.

"Because this new department, the Black Watch, answers only to the Minister of Magic," Percy announced, raising his chin conceitedly. "Thus they have had no reason to interfere with any of your operations, unless you'd been attempting to harm or hinder the Ministry in some way or performing illegal activities."

"Black Watch?" Tiberius repeated. What kind of name was that?

"Yes, their primary directive is the surveillance, arrest, and imprisonment of the undesirable elements that hide in the darkness or have dark intentions," Percy said. "Thus they are the Black Watch. And they have already begun their assignment."

"What have they done?" Thicknesse demanded, standing in protest that his Department was apparently being replaced.

"They have already arrested a group of known conspirators that have worked alongside Albus Dumbledore and have supported his and the Potter boy's claims that You-Know-Who has returned," Percy announced quite proudly. "The conspirators' goal had been the spread of misinformation in order to instill fear and generate panic within the public. They have since been sent to Azkaban and are no longer of any consequence."

Despite the achievement, he forced himself to ignore the fact that they had arrested members of his own family just to acquire the list of conspirators in the first place. But then, he reminded himself, his parents and brothers had brought that upon themselves by not accepting the truth that the Dark Lord had not returned, as Minister Fudge had already proven.

"You can do that!" Thicknesse and several others shouted and/or stood in defiance. "To be sent to Azkaban without a trial is—"

"I can do it all I wish!" Percy interrupted heatedly, his glare cold enough to freeze liquid nitrogen. "Because I am the MINISTER OF MAGIC!"

Tetbury

Consciousness came slowly to him. And with his returning awareness, the throbbing agony of a powerful migraine in his skull became painfully real to him. Groaning softly, he slid his hands up to rub his aching head. But by doing so, he became aware of two more things. The first being that he was laying upon a hard stone floor littered with dust and pebbles. The second thing being that his fingers encountered something damp and slightly sticky that was drying into a crust in his hair.

Painfully opening his eyes, he stared dumbly down at his red-colored fingers. That crusty red stuff looked an awful lot like…blood?

"Hey, Jack!" a loud voice called from somewhere behind him. "The freak's awake!"

As he was slowly pushing himself up, a screeching sound behind him announced the opening of a door. This was followed shortly by a rough pair of hands grabbing his shirt and bodily picking him before slamming him up against the hard wall. His throbbing head banging up against the unforgiving wall proved more than sufficient at knocking Harry's mind back up to full awareness.

The first thing he saw and fully comprehended was the young man in front of him who'd likely been the one to pick him up. The first thought that went through his mind was that this guy was probably related to Marcus Flint. He shared a rather striking resemblance with the former Slytherin Quidditch Captain, big, burly, and absolutely brutish.

The young man, seeing that he'd gotten Harry awake, dropped him unceremoniously to the ground and stepped to the side. Cradling his even more fiercely throbbing head, Harry looked up and glared at the man before his attention was attracted to where he actually was. Unless he was very much mistaken, Harry could've sworn that he seemed to be inside the jail cell of a police station, if the bars at the front and sides of the cell were any indication. There was a simple cot with a small mattress, a sink, and a loo in the cell, but nothing else.

There also seemed to be four or five other tough guys like 'Flint' standing outside the cell, all glaring or sneering at him in ways that would've made even Draco nod in pride. And, much to Harry's surprise, unease, and confusion, all of them were armed with guns and knives. Each wore some kind of vest over their clothing, and the vest had a gaudy laughing skull painted boldly across the front. To Harry's untrained eye, it looked like they'd looted the police station of weapons and armor. That just raised more questions, none of which Harry was sure he'd like the answers to.

"Well, well, well," a drawling voice spoke from outside the cell and Harry's line-of-sight. "The mighty Dragon Slayer awakens."

Then the speaker moved into Harry's sight. He was, like the other toughs that Harry had seen so far, a burly, young man. There was a clear amount of muscle visible on him under his sleeveless shirt and black jeans, suggesting long hours in the gym. His eyes, unlike the others, weren't beady or glaring, ready to attack at a moment's notice. There was a definitely look of cunning in them, not unlike a lot of the Slytherins Harry knew of. But Harry's attention was immediately drawn to the small instrument that the gang leader was idly fiddling with in his hands.

He had Harry's wand!

"Oh, I see you've already noticed your toy, little boy," the thug said. Though there was not a hint of malice in his voice, it still set Harry's heckles rising. This guy was dangerous, and he had his wand! Come to think of it, where was his Invisibility Cloak? What had happened after he'd fallen unconscious?

"What's going on?" Harry asked cautiously, knowing full well that he was not the one in control here. "Who are you people? Where am I? What have you done with my things?"

"You certainly have a lot of questions," the thug sneered, not ceasing his fiddling with Harry's wand. Then the thug's face hardened as the sneer vanished. Jabbing Harry's wand forward as though he were trying to use magic, the thug's face darkened considerably when he saw that nothing had happened. "What is this thing, freak?"

"Not yours," Harry said plainly. Despite himself, the situation he was in, and his own ignorance of wandlore, Harry felt fairly confident in his knowledge of magic to continue. "You can try to use it all you like, but it will never work for someone who isn't its owner. I doubt it would ever willingly harm its owner, even if you could use it properly."

"You doubt?" the thug repeated, his sneer returning full force. "Meaning, you don't know for certain. Meaning, you just lied to me. And I hate liars. Riley?"

Harry barely had enough to piece together what the thug just said before 'Flint' grabbed him and delivered a crushing punch to his face. Harry let out a cry of agony as he felt his nose break and start to bleed, his head and body reeling from the unexpected blow. Before he could collect himself, he was suddenly grabbed by his shirt and yanked forward, right into a rising knee, knocking the air from his lungs and causing him to collapse from the pain. If he'd been able to, Harry would've seen 'Flint' about to kick him in the back but was stopped by a raised hand from the leader. Thus allowing Harry a brief chance to gasp air back into his lungs and cradling his throbbing new injuries.

"Now that the pleasantries are out of the way, let's begin," the leader said, taking a seat in a chair that one of the other thugs brought forward. "You are going to tell me how to make this thing work. You are going to tell me how to kill those dragons. And you're going to tell me where I can find more 'interesting items' like this and that pretty cloak you had." Harry couldn't stop the flinch at the mention of his missing Invisibility Cloak. So they did have it after all! "And you're going to tell me the truth or my boys will be more than happy to cut you up into tiny little pieces."

Having regained enough air and strength to fight back the throbbing pain, Harry looked up with anger at his captors. Each of the thugs present toyed with the exposed hilts of various knives and daggers that adorned their clothing. It was an intimidation tactic, Harry rationalized. One that was sadly working since he knew he was defenseless, as did they.

"How does this work?" the thug demanded loudly when he saw Harry was not inclined to answer.

"I don't know," Harry answered, knowing the guy wasn't going to react well. A frowning glare and a sharp kick to the back of his head, which knocked him roughly face-first into the floor again followed quickly.

"Alright, let's try this again," the thug leader said, leaning forward slightly in the chair. "Where did you get this?"

"London," Harry answered again. He was grinning despite the pain and blood that were coating his face. Harry stared up at the fuzzy image of the thug before him. He really wished he had his glasses, or not been cursed with near-sight, because he would've really liked to have seen the expression of growing anger in the bully's face more clearly. If he was doomed to be assaulted for just breathing by these bigot bullies, then he'd do it in style! "I'm sure a man of your…stature and disposition could talk his way into it."

This time, the attack caught him in the ribs, collapsing his chest as the air rushed from his lungs again in a pained exhale.

"You think this some kind of joke?" the leader asked in a dangerous tone that Harry heard far too often. Looking up as he heard the leader's clothing shift as he stood up, he watched blearily as the thug grasped the wand in both hands.

"No, wait!" Harry cried out, fighting to force his body to regain its lost strength so that he could jump up and stop what he knew was going to happen. "Don't do it!"

His tormentor once again made himself known, stamping down quite savagely upon Harry's back and knocking him bodily back to the ground. Bracing himself, Harry tried to shove himself back up, but a sharp new pain jabbed into his right shoulder, poking out through the front. Harry didn't need to see the small spray of blood, feel the jabbing sting and throb of absolute agony, hear his own cry of pain and surprise from a seemingly great distance away, or see the tented extension under his shirt's collar to know that he'd just been stabbed by a knife. It may have as well been a sword for all the white-hot pain it caused him. The stab caused him to collapse upon the ground as his uninjured arm immediately moved to cradle his right shoulder and, futilely, try to remove the obstruction from his body.

Somehow finding the strength of will to look past his own pain, Harry turned his attention back to where his wand was in imminent danger. That wand was his dearest and closest possession. Nothing else even came close to the love and fondness he held for his wand. And now, before his very eyes, knowing what was coming and being unable to do anything about it, a deep-seated emotion or power or…something began building up inside him. He wanted to stop this. He needed to stop this! He had to stop this! Pulling his blood-soaked hand from his shoulder, Harry reached for his wand, desperately clawing at the unchanging and unforgiving distance between him and it.

"Let's see you laugh this off!" With a soft grunt and loud snap, Harry's wand was broke.

He…couldn't…stop…it. He…His wand…It was… No…No…! NO!

It was in that moment that something else broke… inside Harry.

Ten minutes earlier…

"Dammit!" Darius swore for umpteenth time, cursing his bad luck.

He had been driving his beloved black '87 Mustang at somewhat reckless speeds towards the town of Tetbury. Yet just as he was nearing it, he caught sight of a large roadblock, consisting of numerous cars and vehicles that the locals either dragged or towed into place, forming a surprisingly effective wall. If his guess was right, the townsfolk were preparing for the hordes of starving, homeless people who were fleeing the cities and the dragons. Food and property were already being savagely fought over as the owners tried to protect what was theirs and the newcomers tried to take what they needed to survive or just selfishly desired.

Though it was smart and practical of the townsfolk, it was extremely hindering to Darius. Especially given that he was in a hurry to save a young life before it was taken by the ignorant and violent youths he'd glimpsed. Darius had been forced to park his Mustang on the side of the road and run as fast as he could pace himself up to and over the automotive barricades.

Strangely there didn't seem to be any guards posted, a fact that had the African-American both grateful and weary. Sure, he'd seen in the Scrying Mirror that some of the townsfolk had been fleeing and given the burning and destruction, there must've been a dragon attacking. But surely some of the people would've tried to stay behind and protect their homes, right? Darius would admit that he didn't know much about the British and their laws, but they must've had some weapons to help them fight…right?

He had made it a good distance into the town when he spotted a dragon he instantly recognized as a Welsh Green. The beast was chained up with its feet trapped in small areas of concrete and there was a discarded tombstone that was several sizes too large to be normal. This had 'Harry' written all over it and Darius quickly guessed that it was why Harry had come to the town in the first place. But these observations were all shelved when he saw something that had him quickly postponing his need to save Harry.

Right up next to the dragon, which had apparently regained consciousness, was a young woman who must've been in her early twenties at most. Under normal circumstances, he might've said that she was somewhat attractive. But it was what she was doing that had him rushing forward and reaching up to draw the massive broadsword he wore over his shoulder. The girl had a metal saw in her hands and was frantically cutting away at the chains that were binding the dragon's mouth.

"Don't worry, baby," the girl was cooing in a voice that most others would've used to soothe a baby. "Melanie is here. I'll make you feel all better in no time."

"Get away from it!" Darius yelled as he approached, already beginning to work his broadsword free of its sheath. The girl, Melanie, either blatantly ignored him or didn't hear him, she just continued sawing away at the chains.

She was almost done cutting it free. And once she managed to set it free, the dragon would be so happy that it'd want to become her friend! She had already decided that she'd name it Natasha, or Tess. Yes, Tess was nice sounding. Anyway, once they were friends, Tess would take her up flying and they'd explore the skies of the world together. She would become the very first Dragon Rider in history! Everyone would know her name and envy her for her greatness! And Tess too, of course. Oh, she could hardly wait for the bright future that was awaiting her just a few short cuts away!

With a metallic snap, helped along by Tess' strong jaw muscles, the chains around the dragon's snout came free. Immediately thereafter, Tess reared her head back and drew in a deep breath of air. Oh, Tess was gonna roar in happiness at finally being freed by her! Yay!

Then, Tess snapped her head downwards at high speeds. Melanie had just enough time to see the fiery crimson of flames glowing ominously in the back of Tess' maw when the world suddenly went into a chaotic spin, a wave of oppressive heat, and loud noises erupted from somewhere close by. After a moment to regain her bearings, Melanie looked up in confusion as she realized that she'd fallen to the ground somehow.

As she was climbing to her feet, she heard a loud shriek and a man's battle cry. Looking up just in time, she watched as a black man dressed in dark leather with a sword that was every bit as massive as he was delivering a powerful chop. The blade flashed downward in a blur of silver, hacking into and quickly separating Tess' head from her body. As the dragon's body collapsed lifelessly to the ground, Melanie stared with horror-stricken eyes as her dreams died along with it.

Jumping to her feet as the murderer pulled his butcher's knife back, Melanie ran up to the man in a blind rage. Then stranger only had enough time to hear her approach and turn to face her when her hand snapped forward, a resounding slap echoed through the graveyard of the church as the man's head was snapped to the side. As she was winding up for another slap, the man stepped back and held up his massive sword in a threatening yet defensive pose.

"YOU ASSHOLE!" Melanie screamed at the top of her massive lung capacity. "DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA WHAT YOU JUST DID?"

"Yeah," the black man answered heatedly as he turned his own glare on the stupid bitch before him. "Just saved your ungrateful hide from being barbequed, stupid bitch."

"Tess wasn't gonna attack me!" Melanie hollered in rage, her arms shaking from the potent desire to pummel the man to a bloody pulp. "She was just about to thank me for helping her get free from the bad boy's trap!"

"It was about to incinerate your scrawny ass, dumbass," Darius argued, glaring hatefully. Normally, he considered himself above such petty arguments, but this…lunatic's voice, reasoning (if you could call it that), and self-righteous attitude were drawing him in like a sponge soaking up water. With just a few words, he could already tell that this…girl… had a very domineering and confrontational personality, one that was apparently used to living in her own world and getting her own way, no matter the cost to everyone else around her. He hated people like this with a passion.

Forcing himself to calm down, he turned away and slid his broadsword back into its sheath. 'I still have to save Harry,' he reminded himself. 'Even if this girl is mentally retarded, that Green needed to be put down anyway. So there's no point in arguing anymore.'

"WHERE ARE YOU GOING?" Melanie screamed as she tried to regain his attention. "I'M NOT DONE WITH YOU YET!"

"But I'm done with you," Darius answered. He stopped and looked back only long enough to add one final comment. If this girl truly was like he guessed she was, she would no doubt want to have the last word in every conversation. Maybe something to throw her off balance long enough to let him make his escape without being pursued? "And for your information, this dragon was a male."

"Nu-uh! Tess is a girl!" Melanie screamed instantly, stamping her foot to accentuate her point.

'I knew it,' Darius sighed to himself. So much for the clean getaway. Turning away before the retard could get the wind back into her sails, Darius took at his best sprinting speeds as he tried to focus his mind on remembering where he'd seen Harry's last location.

"COME BACK HERE, YOU ASSHOLE!" Melanie screamed, immediately giving chase despite seeing and knowing that she'd never catch up to the man who was already disappearing around the corner of a nearby building. Coming to a panting stop, Melanie turned and gazed mournfully at Tess' dead body and severed head. "I'm sorry, Tess. I guess we won't be flying the skies after all. But maybe I can find one of your friends? Yeah, I'll talk him into hunting down that asshole and killing him for you!"

Darius breathed a sigh of relief when he noticed that he'd lost the stupid girl. Why did he have to save here again? Oh yeah, his conscience wouldn't have allowed him not to. Sometimes, it was a real burden to help people, especially those like her. Forcing the girl from his mind, he returned his attention to what he remembered of the town's layout. And if his memory was correct, he was almost there!

Just as he was turning onto the street that would lead to the police station and he saw the building in question come into view, Darius felt something wash over him. It was like a hot desert wind, yet it was filled with emotions of loss, pain, anger, and hate. The feeling was so incredibly potent that it actually caused Darius to stumble to a stop as he stared wide-eyed at the area where he knew the wave of power had come from

In that infinitesimally small moment, time seemed to all but stop for Darius as he focused his whole attention ahead of him, awaiting for…something. Something he knew was coming, without knowing what that something was.

Magic, his father had once explained to him, was formed by the connections between the Soul, the Mind, and the Body. In that moment of time, Darius knew that Harry had stopped struggling. In that moment of time, Harry had lost the will to live. In that moment in time, Darius felt the flickering candle's flame of hope he had kept throughout his journey snuff itself out. In that moment of time in which time seemed to slow and stretch on into infinity, Darius could almost see a part of Harry's soul collapse in on itself. Like a star with all of its fire snuffed out, it faltered and caved in on itself.

Then, just when he had almost let his hope slip away like a breeze through his fingers, the next moment of time slammed into him with the force of a star going nova.

In that next infinitesimally short, yet monumentally-tangible moment in time, Darius felt something that his mind could not grasp or explain yet was unquestionably real. It was like the crack of a shattering crystal or the flash of light from a camera. It happened so fast, he almost didn't catch the moment of change, yet he would never be able to forget what happened.

In that moment of time, Harry's soul could collapse no further. And like a nuclear bomb at critical mass, it released the energy it could no longer contain.

And that energy manifested itself into a blinding flash of light that lit up the entire building, blinding even Darius from his position almost a block away. The light was almost immediately replaced by a deafening blast of sound and concussive force as the building was quite literally blown to smithereens. Plumes of black smoke and mortar debris were blown skywards by the explosive wave. Even Darius was knocked off his feet and sent tumbling a surprising distance away before slamming into the tire of a truck almost three town blocks away, knocking him into a spinning daze.

Shaking his head as he fought to regain control of himself, Darius unsteadily climbed to his feet and blinked uncomprehendingly at the sight of the rumbled which was all that remained of the building. 'That…I was not expecting…What just happened in there?'

Working his way slowly but steadily forward, Darius eventually was able to climb into and through the scattered debris. He was careful to avoid the crushed and/or impaled bodies of some teenagers. Judging by the looks of them, they must've been some low-time gang that had been trying to take over the town now that the police had been drafted into the military to fight the dragons. Finally, after much effort, he managed to pull a section of the jail roof aside and exposed the boy trapped beneath. He was in bad shape and would need medical attention immediately.

Sighing to himself, Darius carefully lifted the boy up. "At least he's alive. That's always a good thing."

10:32pm
Ledmore, Scotland

"Lisa, don't worry about your clothes. We'll be coming back later. This is just temporary."

"Sorry, mum," said a flustered nineteen-year-old Lisa Hanford, removing a few of her shirts from her overflowing trunk.

Her parents had called her back from college so that they and her little sister could all escape the dangerous warzone that their homeland had become. The whole family would be relocating to Iceland until the current crises were resolved. Despite the fact that the Royal military was mustering all their armies and were preparing to march on London to reclaim the capital, the rest of the country was left to the whims of the dragons that had suddenly and mysteriously appeared. And with the ban on the right to own firearms, all that the people of Great Britain could do when faced with an attacking dragon was flee for their lives, rather than being able to stand and fight back like the Americans were doing.

Scott Hanford had found a niche for himself as a retailer of leather goods, most of which came from his family farm. Though it hadn't made him rich, his small store in Ledmore could certainly be called prosperous. Considering how much trade he did abroad, it wouldn't cripple his business to relocate for a while. As soon as his wife and daughters packed their most important possessions, he would lock up the house and the whole family would drive to Ullapool. At Ullapool, they would board a passenger ship to Iceland. It was practically the middle of the night, but he felt it best to leave as soon as possible.

"Brittany, luv, let's get a move on," Lisa heard her father shout upstairs to her mother. "The ship leaves is in three hours and it takes forever to go through security."

"Coming, dear," came the harried response. "I'm trying to get Susie sorted out."

Everyone suddenly stopped when the front door to their house suddenly exploded off its hinges with a loud 'crack,' sending wooden shrapnel in every direction. Scott, who was heading for the door to start up the car, was knocked back against the bottom stair beside him in surprise, unharmed but shocked at the sudden explosion.

"Scott!" Brittany screamed as she rushed out of little Susie's room to see what had happened.

"Bloody hell," he grunted as he picked himself up. Looking towards the doorway, he found himself gazing at a pair of cloaked figures, their hoods were up and completely covering their faces in shadows. "What's the big idea, yo—?"

He never finished his question as one of the figures raised a stick and said something that he couldn't understand. A flash of green erupting from the end of that weird stick was the last thing he saw before he collapsed to the floor, dead.

"Scott!" screamed Brittany, staring in disbelief at the crumpled form of her husband. Glaring at the people who intruded into their home, Brittany gathered up her courage and rushed down the stairs to confront them personally. But she didn't even make it halfway before the other person lifted their own stick and sent a green lightning bolt her way, catching her solidly in the chest and causing her tumble to the floor at their feet lifelessly.

Lisa Hanford stood in her bedroom, looking out into the hallway in shock. She had heard the door explode, followed shortly by the intruders saying some strange words. The scream from her mother woke her from her daze, and Lisa gaped as the elder Hanford bolted down the stairs the hallway. Her mother must've been very distraught, scared, and angry because she didn't seem to realize just what she seemed to be heading towards until it was far too late. Seeing her mother die in a way that left her terrified, Lisa immediately dropped her trunk and raced into her 8-year-old sister's room.

"Susie, come quickly," she cried, holding out a hand. "Drop everything now!"

Susie did so, running up to her sister while wailing in fear. Susie obediently grasped her sister's hand, terrified at the sound of footsteps thundering up the stairs. Lisa quickly turned and locked the door to the room before rushing to the window. The drop to the ground was some fifteen to twenty feet below them, but if they landed right, it wouldn't be a problem.

Taking her sister and quickly stuffing her out the window, Lisa hurriedly lowered her down as far as she could go and then released her. With a small cry of fear at the drop, Susie landed and collapsed in an almost boneless heap but Lisa could tell she hadn't been hurt.

Lisa was busy hoisting herself over the windowsill when a fierce explosion tore through the inner wall of the bedroom, leaving a gaping hole and clouding the room with dust and drywall. The explosion was almost strong enough to send Lisa toppling over and falling to her death. But at the last second, she was able to catch herself and save her life.

Reflexively looking towards the new hole, Lisa found herself staring at the same cloaked person who'd killed her mother. But now that she was looking more closely, she could partially see a few strands of dark hair and a young man clearly in his mid-teenage years with a chubby, brutish face. And he was wearing an expression of near-ecstasy for reasons Lisa was sure she didn't want to know.

"Run, Muggle scum," the boy said, an arrogant sneer pulling at his face. "Run away and never return. This house is ours now."

"You killed my mother and father for our house?" Lisa yelled, furious and disbelieving. "How could yo—?" She wisely broke off mid-sentence when she saw him raising that damn stick again.

Without a second thought, she dropped herself out of the window and landed next to her sister. Quickly picking up Susie and throwing her over her shoulder, Lisa ran for the fence and ducked between the boards. They ran out down the dark streets of Ledmore, rushing away from their home and the killers who'd taken it over.

From the window, Vincent Crabbe watched two sisters flee down the street until he lost interest. Turning back to the room he was in, his broad sneer vanished as he began looking around at the house that would serve as his family's new home for the time being.

Though it went against their pride as wizards, the Crabbe family (like a disgustingly large number of other Purebloods) had been forced to abandon their homes when the dragons began attacking. It seemed that the Hebridean Blacks were especially attracted to the high volumes of magical energies that generally surrounded a wizard's home. And the older the house was, the more powerful the magic was, and thus the more attractive it became to the dragons.

Granted, Crabbe Cottage was barely a hundred years old but all the Dark magical artifacts that his father had collected over the years more than made up for the otherwise small aura the Cottage gave off. Now the Crabbes were homeless for the first time since they'd immigrated to England, and none of them liked it. They were too proud to ask for aid from any of the other Purebloods, so Vincent and his mother had decided to go and acquire a new house. And boy could Vincent admit to having a great amount of fun attacking, killing, and scaring those worthless Muggles who lived in this especially charming, old Victorian home.

As he was just now discovering, there was a certain dark joy in using the Dark Arts that he was finding himself absolutely reveling in. That joy made him feel invincible, all-powerful. There was no longer any doubt in his mind as to why his family had been such staunch supporters of the Dark Lord in years past. Causing pain and destruction was so much fun!

Stalking down the hallway, he idly wondered if he should track down those girls and have some more fun with them later on. Though, given that werewolves, vampires, and various other Dark creatures were running amok thanks to the dragons and the shambles that remained of the Ministry, the girls would probably be dead in a day's time. Such a shame; that elder girl had been attractive, as far as filthy Muggles go at least. He would've greatly enjoyed making her scream, in one form or another. And the younger one could've served as a nice servant for his dear mother. His family sadly didn't have the necessary gold to purchase a House-elf yet and were too proud take one on loan from one of their family friends.

Like he said, it was a shame.

(Author's Note) Sorry about the chapter. It was a rush job on my part. One part due to my need to update this story every so often. And another part due to my desire to post on February 29. I mean, how often does one get the chance to do that? So, if there are any spelling errors, typos, or missing words/jumbled sentences, these are the reasons why. And I'm sorry for that.

A big time shout-out to my friends 782 and Slytherin66 who were kind enough to answer some of my questions on Great Britain and Scotland. Thank you very much for that information and I hope you two enjoyed this chapter. Please tell me if I was correct or mistaken about some point in the story.

Heheh, Percy's only been the Minister for a short while and already his power's gone to his head. And while you may question how he was able to get as many things as he has done or approved, I feel that they are justifiable.

Let's face it; Fudge did a LOT of questionable things when he was Minister, namely trying to get Harry sentenced to Azkaban in a farce of trial rigged for the explicit reason of showing him to be degenerate troublemaker (Honestly, trying to get a mere teenager sent to Azkaban without even giving him a chance to explain himself in court? How retarded and paranoid can you get?), passing numerous and ridiculous Educational Decrees to enhance Umbridge's power in Hogwarts with either the allowance or ignorance of the Wizengamot/Board of Governors, and not to mention his blatantly obvious paranoid delusions of Dumbledore trying to seize his seat of power.

I figure that if Fudge can get away with all that crap, Percy can certainly get away with this stuff.

Also, for those you fanatics who've recognized it, my idea of Black Watch was largely inspired by DobbyElfLord's 'Balancing Destinies' story. For those you who might be confused, think of the Black Watch as being Percy's very own CIA or MI6 division. And no, the Department of Mysteries and Unspeakables are not a military or law enforcing department. Rather, they are the equivalents of scientists; a fact that is easily misunderstood in both fanon and canon due to the secretive nature of the DoM.

And you wanna know something interesting? I based that 'Melanie' character on my own sister's responses. I had asked her about her opinion on another story idea I'd had a long time ago and, despite my fully explaining it to her, she still believed that she could've tamed the sick and bloodthirsty monster just by doing a few kind deeds to it. And even 'Melanie's personality and responses to Darius are exactly (or as damn near close as I could get) to what her own reactions would've likely been in such a situation. I'm not kidding! And the reason I'd decided to add this character in at all was for my own petty, brotherly need for a spiteful vengeance against her. But I guess that's what happens between siblings now and again and again andagain!

And before you all ask, what happened with Harry will be explained. Just be patient. There is a method to the madness, I swear!

If anyone's got any ideas for a potential name for the new Ministry castle, I'm more than willing to give them some thought. Please shoot any ideas at me!