Chapter three: last words
"The order never did appreciate me, my talents," Mundungus continued. "Had a run of bad luck, since the whole Ministry reform. No more room for people like me. But that's going to change."
Harry said nothing; he slowly lowered his wand to his side. The Death Eaters closed in, aiming at him. Other than Natasha, who had barely moved throughout the whole sequence.
"So, Harry Potter. Any last words, something to be remembered by?" she said.
"I solemnly swear I am up to no good," Harry said, giving her a winning smile.
"Drop your wand," Dovchenko ordered, too late. Harry complied, but as he threw it, a jet of energy blasted from the wand. It slammed into the leg of a Death Eater, whose clothing immediately burst into flames.
As the group of dark wizards dissolved into chaos, Harry made his move. He ran, shoving Mundungus out of the way. Harry took a running leap at the wall of crates, and began to climb. The stack was sturdy, and there were plenty of handholds, he quickly made it to the top of the row. Hoisting himself atop the row, he set off at a run.
Looking over the warehouse below, Harry saw the Death Eater's spreading out; they weren't going to let him escape easily. Just like always. His gaze focused on Natasha. She and two Death Eaters were walking briskly toward the exit. Levitated by the two Death Eaters, the metal box floated along with them. Harry couldn't let them leave with it.
A spell shot past Harry. Another collided with the crate below him, showering him with splinters of wood. Harry started to run, sprinting along the row of crates. Curses shot past, and he pushed himself all the further. His lungs burned, but he forced down the urge to stop. If he stopped, he was dead.
Ahead, there was a gap between the rows, a length of ten feet. Harry ran toward it, not stopping. Unthinking, trying not to judge the distance, he reached the end of the row, and leapt. As he kicked off, the crate below him shattered, destroyed by a powerful jinx.
He soared through the air, his fingers brushed the wood of the next row, and then he was falling. As he plummeted, Harry scrabbled at the wall of crates, managing to slow himself. He slammed into the ground, landing in a crouch. Nevertheless, he felt the impact all the way up his spine.
He realized he had landed between two Death Eaters, who stared at him, awestruck. Harry wasted no time. He elbowed one of them under the chin, pulling the wand from the man's grip. He punched the second in the jaw, and darting away, stunned both of them.
He was back on the floor, but he had a wand, Harry felt much more optimistic. Harry ran down the aisle, ahead of him beckoned the box, levitated between the two Death Eaters.
"Petrificus Totalus!"
The spell hit one of the Death Eaters in the back, immobilizing him where he stood. Harry aimed a stunning spell at the other Death Eater, who blocked it, easily.
Suddenly, Harry felt a sharp pain in his shoulder, he screamed in pain. Sticking out of his arm was the switchblade, Natasha must have thrown it. The knife was deeply buried, blood soaking into his sleeve. Harry yanked it out, wincing. Now he was angry.
"Flipendo!"
The spell hit Natasha in the chest, and lifted her off her feet, the girl slammed into the row of crates. Harry sidestepped a curse from the remaining Death Eater.
"Incarcerous!"
The Death Eater fell, entwined with black strong ropes. Harry seized the box and, with it floating in front of him, ran down the aisle.
Another group of Death Eaters came around the corner, charging straight toward him. There were at least twenty of them, more than Harry could possibly fight off. With a sigh, he muttered another spell.
"Depulso!"
The box shot forward, barreling through the group of Death Eaters, knocking three of them over, before ramming into the wall of crates. A box had shattered, and through the broken boards Harry saw a glint of gold. A container topped with small, carved angels…
The Ark of the Covenant. The same that had led Harry on a hunt across the world and nearly cost him his life. Dietrich, Malfoy, and Ginny. The Ministry had taken it, claiming it would be studied. So this was where it had ended up after all these years.
Harry was jolted out of his memories as he realized that the row the box had slammed into was now teetering. It seemed to tip in slow motion, the boxes on top falling first, crates exploding to the ground.
Harry ran. Past the Ark, past the box, past the Death Eaters. He slipped out of the aisle into open space, just as it collapsed entirely, burying everything, and everyone, within under tons of debris. Harry looked back to see that not only the single row, but half the warehouse had been buried in a domino effect.
And before him was the exit from the room, inviting him. There were no more Death Eater's popping up, attacking him. He was home free.
Harry charged through the room with the blue candles finding the way out was much easier, as the door out had been destroyed, setting it apart form the others. He rushed down the corridor, and into the staircase.
Harry hurried up the stairs, pacing himself. He had a few flights to go, and couldn't be battling his own exhaustion as well. Now that he was no longer in immediate danger, the pain in his arm set in. he had received plenty of bruises and scrapes in the fight, but the worst by far was when Natasha's knife had embedded itself in his bicep. He held the wound tightly, trying to slow the bleeding, as blood soaked into his shirt. Still, by the time he stumbled out into the main hall, he was light-headed and reeling. He needed to make it to a healer before he lost more blood.
As Harry walked toward the exit, skirting the bodies of two murdered Aurors, there came a soft chime from behind him. He turned to see the metal grill of the elevator slide open. Out stepped Dovchenko, his face a mask of anger. Harry began to regret snatching the Death Eater's wand.
"Langlock!"
The spell hit Harry with no obvious effect. Harry brought his wand about, planning to let lose with a powerful stunner, but found himself unable to speak. His tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth. He vaguely remembered the spell Dovchenko had used as one of those novelty spells invented by the Half-Blood Prince. But in a duel, it could be deadly.
"Crucio!"
The torture charm hit Harry full on. He fell to his knees, trying not to cry out. Instead, as the charm cut off, the intense pain retreating from his body, he was ready, charging at the Death Eater.
Dovchenko looked surprised, but retaliated quickly. Harry was thrown of his feet and slammed into the wall. Held in place by invisible arms. Pressed against the wall. The same invisible force, curled around his thought, closing his windpipe. Harry struggled for breath, the air in his lungs rapidly depleted. He fought against the invisible force that held him in its grip, vaguely aware of the Death Eater approaching, a bemused expression on his rock-like face.
Suddenly, a jet of pure white energy blasted from the tip of Harry's wand. It slammed into Dovchenko, and the larger man was thrown across the hall, smashing into the floor twenty yards away.
The invisible force released Harry, and he fell to the floor, gasping for air. It was not the first time this had happened, performing magic subconsciously. It had saved his life in Pankot Palace…and killed his would-be assassin.
As Dovchenko groaned, ensuring Harry that he had not killed the man, Harry ran across to the fireplace. From a bowl atop it, he seized a handful of green powder, and hurled it into the hearth.
The fireplace erupted into green flames. But Harry looked back to see Dovchenko charging directly at him. Harry shouted the first spell to come into his head.
"Aguamenti!"
A blast of water hit Dovchenko in the face, filling his eyes and mouth. As the Death Eater spluttered, Harry stumbled backward into the fireplace, and was swallowed in a whirl of green flame and ash.
Harry spun through the sea of green, half formed images and noise, and as it all rushed by, his consciousness slipped away.
"Natasha. Miss Lestrange. Wake up."
Natasha came to with a groan, her chest ached where the spell had hit her, and the room above her seemed to spin. She was laying on her back on the stone floor, strewn around her the wreckage of a hundred wooden crates. Beside her knelt Mundungus Fletcher, his face worried.
"Are you all right?" he questioned, worriedly.
"No," she mumbled, "I just lost my favorite knife." Natasha felt her forehead gingerly, her hand came away sticky with blood.
Mundungus raised his wand, "If you want, I can…"
She shook her head, waving his wand away. "No, I'll be fine, just a scratch."
She got to her feet easily enough, at least nothing was broken. "Where's Potter?" she questioned.
"Gone," said Mundungus. "He brought the place down, and ran out. Mr. Dovchenko went after him, though. Should catch him."
Natasha stopped listening; she had seen something that caught her interest. She kicked away some debris from the ruined crates, to reveal a sword. She knelt and picked it up. It was a beautiful piece, definitely goblin make. It was a broadsword, its blade polished steel, spelled so that it would never dull. The hilt was silvery, with a multi-faceted ruby set into it. She swung it a few times, slicing through the air, perfectly balanced as well. Not only seemly, but an effective weapon as well.
Natasha slid the sword of Godric Gryffindor into her belt. "We should get out of here as soon as possible, before the authorities arrive in force. Gather the Death Eaters, find the box, it's got to be somewhere in this wreckage. If anyone's dead, leave them. If anyone's dying, quicken the process. We can't afford to leave behind any witnesses."