Disclaimer: I do not own the Harry Potter series or the Percy Jackson series. I am not making any money off of this, this is merely a fanfiction.
Part 9
A/N: So…..It's been a while….I have to apologize for popping back in your lives all of a sudden, after being gone for so long. Therefore, an extra-long chapter to make up for it. I also feel that I've given the impression that I ignore your reviews, so a few replies are in order. Thank You all who reviewed, they motivate me, they truly do.
To Georgian Devil: I don't know why, but I have a stigma against announcing when I change POVs, I feel that it subtracts from the layout of the story. My document writer does have a line creator, however, it doesn't always work as I'm sure you noticed…..Fingers crossed this time will be successful, and I look forward to your in-depth analysis.
To Leo: I've decided at the moment against making Harry demi-godish. I think because I don't want to complicate the plot even more….However, I hope you enjoy demi-god Voldemort….
To Tiki O'Toole: I've put in the scene you requested, but it doesn't feel right…maybe if I have time I'll brush up on it, hope you enjoy it, your suggestion was greatly appreciated.
To Lord Kelvin: Um, I don't know how you got Percy as Voldemort's son, but he's You-Know-Who's brother. If that makes it better. As well, rest assured, I won't be making Harry the son of any god or goddess.
To Leofort: Although Percy and Harry are antagonistic with each other at the moment, I think that *wink wink* that will change soon. Also, who are the primoridials?
I also think a summary is in order, just in case you're like me and is too lazy to go back and read the entire story after so long, to review the plot. At the moment, the allegiances are thus. Percy sides with Voldemort, his half-brother by Poseidon, in a hope to unite the wizarding world with the Greek one. His reasons are because he wants to get to know his brother, and because he fears that if the two societies do not unite, there will be war. Aldred, leader of an ancient wizarding branch, and a descendant of a demi-god, leads Percy to this conclusion. But before these two societies can unite, the wizarding world must be united, something that Percy and Voldemort head off to do by taking over the ministry. Meanwhile, Harry and the trio arrive at Camp Half-Blood, enlisting the help of Annabeth and Nico in defeating Voldemort. They have no idea of the bigger picture to unite the two worlds, they see the civil war waging on wizard kind, with Percy betraying them for Voldemort. So, the drama escalates, as the two sides face off. Oh, and don't trust my previews from my previous chapters. In my haste/excitement to write this chapter, all content from the previews have been lost.
Like all things worthy of mention, conquering the wizarding society was easier said than done. I stood, gaping at Aldred, as his last sentenced echoed through the hall with a ping. How melodramatic, I thought. But then, the man spoke the truth. The only way to stop a war was for one side to win. And despite how cynical that sounded, it was certainly true. If I couldn't help stop the war from the demi-god side, then I would on the wizarding side. I wouldn't technically be fighting against the campers, I reasoned. No, it would be quick. All I have to do is explain the situation….I knew my friends would see the truth of my words.
We were done being pawns.
"Good Luck, Perseus Jackson, we'll be in touch." Aldred winked, and with a wave of his hand, his entire entourage disappeared with a flash. Not the pop that I was accustomed to, mind you, but more showy, something that left you breathless. I sighed, left with the rest of the passed out Aurors, and pulled out the parchment out of my robe. I had stopped noticing the uncomfortable drag in the thing, I realized, before opening the wax seal. A wax seal? It was bit overkill, but I certainly appreciated the effort.
The message inside was written in Ancient Greek. I was rather surprised that my brother still retained the talent, and read.
Perseus,
The mark on your arm has a magical property that allows you to contact others of our brotherhood. Indeed, every one of the death eaters has a similar tattoo on their forearm. The ministry will have transported the prisoners from Azkaban (the wizarding prison) to your location already. By taking a wand and pressing the mark on your arm, you will be transported to these prisoners. Liberate them and lead them to the first floor of the ministry. I will be waiting.
Of course, the message wasn't signed, but an elegant flourish was present at the left hand corner of the parchment. I rubbed the paper thoughtfully, smearing the pungent looking green ink. Looking around, I spotted an unconscious Aurora, with his wand sticking out of his robe pocket. Bending over, I snatched it in my hand, feeling the solid weight of the wood in my palm. It was ramrod straight and brittle feeling. Bracing myself, I rolled up my arm, grimacing at the sight of the coiled snake and skull. How lovely, I thought, and touched the tip of the wand to the mark.
Nothing prepared me for the pain that flooded through my body, as I was, once again stuffed through a tube, twisted, and vomited out onto a solid marble floor. Groaning, I rolled over, before struggling to my feet. I was in what looked to be a courthouse, with a judges' podium and a jury box. There were wooden bleachers, ugly and Spartan, with a single metal chair in the middle of the floor. The accused's seat. Heavy black chains coiled around the legs of the chair, I snorted. They were probably more for show than anything.
"Uh-" I whirled around. A group of wizards stood beside the chair. It was easy to identify the prisoners from the guard. Twenty or so haggard looking men and women stood in baggy black robes, long tangled hair awry, heavy manacles on their wrists. They were all deathly pale, and thin. I reinforced the idea that the wizarding society was a barbaric one. There were five guards, four men and one woman stiff and alert, dressed in long blue robes. Auroras. It was one of the guys that spoke, a tall skinny one that looked barely older than twenty, the traces of acne still littering his unshaven face.
"Hey." I said, and ran towards the group. Five jets of red light streamed towards me. I met them head on, charging towards the guy who had spoken. I saw his eyes widen in surprise as the lights had no effect on me. I rammed my elbow into the guys face as he opened his mouth. He crashed into one of his charges, a burly guy with crooked teeth who grinned as the guard looked up in horror at him before passing out. Leaving burly man to his work, I straightened and pulled out the knife that Lucius had conjured for me. I like to think that I learned a thing or two from Annabeth. Three of the remaining guards spread out around me, forming a sort of triangle, while the last guard pointed his wand at the prisoners, carefully shooting them, until they fell unconscious.
A sting at my neck told me that someone had taken a shot and I ran towards the Aurora on the left, the tall blond woman. I had stopped trying to avoid the shots by now, and I slashed at her arms, only for my progress to be stopped by a conjured blue shield. Looking over, I saw that it was connected to the wand of one of the other guards. Whirling around, I threw the knife straight into his leg. He growled and fell over, clawing at his robes. Turning back to the woman, I hit the wand out of the way as a glowing incantation lit up the end, and swept the witches' legs out under her. Without waiting for her to fall, I turned at the remaining guards. Three down, two to go. Of the two that was left, one looked as if he was deep in prayer, his arms out, eyes closed, as he muttered a complex incantation. I ran towards him. These things never ended well. Who knew what the guy was summoning? As if he heard my footsteps, the wizard spoke faster, as I leaped forward, ducking a wide swing from the other remaining guard.
"Hey!" I shouted. "Stop that!" The wizard's speech became even more urgent, as I approached, and with a shout, he fell back as the floor beneath him split open with a loud CRACK. Through the smoke that issued, I saw a familiar pair of burning red eyes. Oh, Gods, I murmured.
"Hello again, dear." Said the rasping voice of a certain ex-teacher of mine.
Fred Weasley liked to pride himself on the fact that he could make light of any possible situation. He had joked his way through seven years of school, and into the Order of the Phoenix, even landing himself a job as the Quidditch Assistant at Hogwarts. Only, at the moment, he was rather lost as to what to do. It was a nightmare of a situation. They had lost the leaders of the Order, Voldemort had taken over the school, and a new variable in the form of the demi-gods were introduced. At least Harry, Hermione and Ron had gotten out safely, but with no outside assistance, they would be in a rather tight spot.
He scanned the common room thoughtfully. George himself was back at Grimauld Place along with his mother and the rest of his family. But if Hogwarts could be infiltrated….Black Manor would be sure to be found out soon. It was up to him to do something about the current situation.
"Alright listen up everyone!" He shouted to the rest of his house. A few heads were raised, along with a few questioning glances. He sighed. Sure, he was the infamous Harry Potter, but he wasn't a skinny wimp like that Neville Longbottom either.
"Al-right! As you may or may not have noticed, Hogwarts has been infiltrated. The perpetrator-You-Know-Who." There were a few snorts as several of the seventh years rolled their eyes. God, he wished his Angelina was here, she would know how to rouse the dejected students…But he had to make do.
"As well as this new development, the teachers of our school have been captured and held somewhere in the school. Now, we all know what will happen if You-Know-Who succeeds in his quest to conquer the wizarding world-the entire place would become a bloody mess! And once he was done with that, he would go on to take over the muggles as well, and then where would we be?"
"So what can we do about it?" Shouted Dean Thomas, a hint of anger in his voice. Fred suddenly remembered that he himself was muggle born.
"Nothing, really. We're just children compared to the big, bad death eaters out there." He stopped to let the roar of discontent that his house mates let out quieten.
"We've got to do something!" Raged a girl with bright pink ponytails, "We can't just lie down and let them do this!"
"Yeah! It's time those death eaters learn that they can't just mess with us!" A second year piped up. His statement was followed by a chorus of agreement. Fred sighed mentally. Well, you've all done a one-eighty, haven't you? That was the thing about being a Gryffindor. It didn't take much to get your blood fired up.
He nodded sagely.
"Aye, we're not. However, that doesn't mean we're going to charge up there and take this place by force. We're not strong enough to stand up to those purebloods." There was a chorus of disagreement following his statement. Impatiently, Fred pounded his hand on the wall.
"Don't forget, they also have the demi-gods and the Slytherins backing them. We're totally out numbered, we can't go for a direct assault." The commonroon quieted a bit after that.
"So what do you suggest we do? This whole argument is going in circles!" Dean shouted back at him. "There's got to be something-" He trailed off, and punched the arm of the couch he was sitting in.
"Ah, but I've got a plan…..To rescue Dumbledore!" The other Gryffindors looked at each other nervously. Fred Weasley's plan were infamous reckless, and almost always backfired. But they were feeling brave that day.
"Hello again, dear," Said that horrible voice issuing from the mist. Mrs. Dodd's appeared, cackling as she took in my alarmed expression. She licked her shriveled lips delighted, as I swallowed the urge to vomit.
"Wha-what are you?" This was the last guard, as he stood taking in the kindly one.
"Sleep, human." The fury hissed, and with a thud, the man fell to the floor. I winced. That didn't sound very comfy.
"They can see you?" I asked. "Mortals?" Mrs. Dodds cackled,
"That's because I am one of the few beings that exist in both this world and the Greek one. Here, I am known as a boggart."
I nodded sagely.
"That's an elegant name." As I spoke, I reached into the pocket of my robe and withdrew Riptide. The fury hissed in anger as she saw it.
"You will die for your insolence!" And lunged. Ducking under a swipe of vicious talons, I rolled to the side and uncapped the bronze pen. Riptide appeared, the blade shining in the dim room. I grinned.
"Not today," So followed our usual routine of dodging and striking. After the brief peace treaty we had made when I was twelve was broken by my attempt to kill her master a year ago, Mrs. Dodds had come back more vengeful than ever.
"Impudent human! How dare you trespass into the land of the dead not once, but twice!" She shrieked. I winced. That lady had a voice shrill enough to break glass.
"Just to be clear, your master was the one who dragged me there last year, something about killing me and claiming the glory for himself!" I retorted. Mrs. Dodds seemed to puff up in rage, a peculiar sight for a skinny being such as a fury.
"Die! Die! Die!" She had given up on being civilized, and I whistled.
"Nice to see I'm so loved…" Slashing at her rib cage I manage to penetrate her hide of thick leather, as green goo oozed out of the wound.
"I don't know my monster anatomy, but I'm pretty sure that's not blood…Aren't you supposed to disappear in a flash of smoke and dust?" I demanded, stepping back, out of reach of the flaming whip. She cackled.
"That's because I'm not real!" She hissed, before transforming into a face I'd never thought I'd see again.
"Bianca?" I muttered, and rubbed my eyes. Nope, not a hallucination. She glared at me balefully.
"Percy," She whispered, and held out her hands. I walked towards her, as if in a dream. She wasn't completely there, her body was blurry at the edges, and translucent.
"Why," I swallowed. "Why are you here?" I asked. She didn't reply. Instead, she walked towards me until her hands lay on my shoulders. I swallowed again.
"I'm sorry." She didn't say anything as her pale hands traveled up my shoulders, until they wrapped around my neck.
"Die!" She snarled, and squeezed.
I fell back, trying to wriggle out of her grasp as her beautiful face transformed into a fierce and angry mask.
"Bianca!" I gasped, as she twisted. "What-why?" She leaned in close as I fell to my knees, and whispered in my ear. I could see through her, at the death eaters struggling amongst themselves.
"It was all your fault! You were the reason I died, the reason Zoe died, the reason Nico doesn't have anyone to care for him anymore." I could see black spots clouding my vision. If she wasn't real, then how come I felt like I was actually dying?
"I'm sorry," I gasped, before a flash of light, a shout, and she disappeared in a puff of smoke.
A death eater stood over me, a tall man with a face that would have been considered handsome, had it not been so skinny and unshaven. He had long brown hair with obscured most of his face in the form of a long, shaggy beard. He looked to be in his forties, but that was probably the beard.
"Are you alright?" His voice was scratchy from ill use. I nodded, catching my breath.
"That was-"
"A boggart." He finished my sentence. "A creature that takes the form of the thing you most fear. Easy to banish, but hard to forget."
I nodded. So my biggest fear was Mrs. Dodds? She should be honoured. And Bianca? Many therapists would like to tell me that she was the embodiment of my guilt, my shame, my fear that I would be unable to help my friends, etc. etc. etc. But really, I was just afraid, I think, of retribution. Karma, people hurting me because of what I had done to them. And of course, I had plenty of enemies to be worried about.
"Vengeance." I breathed.
"What?" The man asked, leaning in closer. I got off the floor-a rather difficult task with the robes, mind you and looked in his one exposed eye.
"My biggest fear is vengeance." He nodded.
"That is a reasonable thing to be afraid of. But to be ruled by that fear…" He shook himself. "My name is Regulus Black. I assume our Lord has sent you to deliver us to him?" I nodded, and walked to the group of death eaters, who were busying themselves shattering the chains on their hands and feet. They looked up as I approached, a bit wary, and the ones holding stolen wands tightened them in their hands.
"So," I started, rocking on the balls of my feet. "Tom has asked me to inform you of the situation." I spoke slowly, so that they could hear through their shock, but who can blame me for being a little nervous addressing a group of armed prisoners?
"Our lord is back?" Called out a skinny, brown haired woman, with a mousy appearance. Several of the others hushed her, and she shrank back as I looked in her direction.
"That's right. The dark lord is back." I waited for the whooping and cheering I had anticipated. Instead, all I got were blank expressions on tired faces. Well, spending seven years in this Azkaban can drain the spirit out of you…
"Anyhow, he needs your help. Today, he has gathered his other min-ahem, follo-ah, supporters here at the ministry and he wishes you all to join him in this attack on the government. Tell me, do you not want to take revenge on your captors?" A ragged cheer rose up, quickly quelled as several of the ex-inmates coughed and spluttered. I hid my disbelief behind a mask of blankness.
"Ah-one question. How are we to fight? We don't have wands, they've all been confiscated…" I took out the piece of parchment again. A note in green ink appeared on the flourish.
They will be fighting with swords and sinew. Please see to it that my men are well armed.
I looked up.
"He says here he wants you to fight with swords." The prisoners looked to each other in disbelief. How much had the wizarding society changed while they were gone? I pointed at a wizard holding a wand.
"Can you conjure some blades for everyone? We have to meet up with the Dark Lord in the main floor, to begin the ambush." The man gaped at me, he was young, in his early twenties, before nodding, and turning to his fellow inmates. I stepped over to the unconscious Aurora I had felled with a knife to the leg, and grimacing, pulled the blade out with a squelch. How lovely.
Bending down, I wiped on the man's robes, because, well, it was his own blood.
"That's an usual style of fighting you have." It was Regulus. He held in his hands an elegant dagger, it's curved point gleaming wickedly, emeralds sparkling on the stylized hilt. He had seemed like the person who didn't go mainstream.
"You have a wand." I pointed out. "You don't have to risk your life fighting with that." I nodded dubiously at the dagger.
"But my lord wishes this to be so." He flipped the dagger in the air, and after spinning at least ten times, caught it between his index and middle finger. A thin line of blood dripped onto the ground. He smiled.
"And I do think this would be more fun."
I nodded. I would have to watch out for him later.
"You haven't told me your name yet, I would like to know the name of our savior."
I scanned his tone for any trace of sarcasm and found none.
"I'm Percy." He bowed, as if he had been doing it his entire life.
"Delighted."
After the entire group was ready, a process that took several minutes as the death eaters scrambled over the pile of dangerous, pointy objects. Most of them were armatures, I analyzed, a few looked as if they had never handled a blade before, and the others weren't much far off. The mousy woman who had spoken earlier squeaked as she dropped her knife before hastily picking it up after seeing me roll my eyes.
"Is everyone ready?" I paced in front of the assembled congregation. They stood, more or less determined, nervous, and fidgety with the exception of Regulus, whose cool exterior was slightly bored as he scanned his friends. It must be boring being in control all the time.
"Alright, you, you and you." I pointed at three of the more experienced ones. "I need you to flank our group. When we're under attack, the enemy will have to go through you first, so you have to be alert, got it?" The three paled, before nodding, scrambling to their assigned positions. I was rather surprised they had even obeyed me. As a young military prodigy, it took a lot to gain the respect of those older than you.
"And you, stand at the back. You'll guard the rear of the group." I pointed at the burly man who had done the guard in previously. He lumbered to the back, a thick oak staff in his hands.
"Now, the rest of you, remember, this is the first thing you do as free men! Don't you want to avenge the years of your captivity, the years your loved ones suffered waiting for you, the years during which cruelty and injustice were allowed to flourish? Well now is the time to act! Show that you still stand for justice! For a better world, show your support for your lord!" The words that came out of my mouth felt bitter and I spat them out. The death eaters gave a ragged cheer.
The important thing is to end this war. The end justifies the means, the end justifies the mean, the end-
"Percy?" I started. I had closed my eyes, so caught up in chanting my mantra. Regulus stared at me quizzically, his blue eye filled with concern. I shook myself, and rolled up my sleeve, exposing the mark branded on my arm.
"Death Eaters! Let us go, our promised day is here!"
Regulus Black was rather shocked when the sixteen year old boy was spat out into the courtroom chamber, and even more shocked when the boy pulled out a knife and managed to singly take other the Furious Five. The Furious Five, as all inmates of Azkaban referred to them as, were harsh, cruel, and generally very unyielding. So when the teenager had felled Hardison with a casual blow to the head, Regulus with filled with shock and surprise.
Finally, a wizard who realizes the importance of physical exercise, he had thought, as his respect for the boy mounted, with ever guard he took out. When Guelph summoned a boggart, he was eager to see what would happen, only to find the appearance of a creature the likes of which he had never seen before, this Mrs. Dodds, had then transformed into a beautiful girl who then proceeded to strangle the poor teenagers. When the boy had claimed that he was a messenger of the Dark Lord, he was sceptic at first, and then the outrageous claim that they had to fight with swords? But then, when one is just freed from Azkaban, one will grab on to any rope thrown at them.
So Regulus went along with the plan. The boy was confident, moving with a sort of authority that sixteen year-olds rarely possessed, shouting out orders that even his fellow Death Eaters obeyed. No, Regulus corrected himself. He wasn't on their side anymore. He was with Dumbledore, and as soon as he could, he would have to contact the old man.
He was soon shocked into believing, however, when 'Percy' rolled up his sleeve and exposed the Dark Mark on his forearm. Why did the Dark Lord want a teenager like him in his army? He was well treated, too, a favourite of Voldemort's, if his clothes had anything to say. Grimacing, Regulus rolled up his own sleeve, before pressing down on the mark, feeling the familiar pang of apparition, before he was dumped onto the battlefield.
It was a complete mess in the lobby of the Ministry of Magic. Death Eaters ran amuck everywhere Regulus looked, whooping, as they shattered windows, and broke chunks of stone off pillars. Damaging sacred artifacts, another reason I left, he thought annoyed, before looking about wildly for Percy, and the Dark Lord. He felt his blood ran cold as he found the man, however changed he was. Voldemort was more monster than man, now, as he waved his gray arms about cackling wildly, shooting jets of green that struck his blue robed opponents. All around him, Death Eaters were doing light wise, in a ragged formation, but overwhelming the other side through sheer numbers alone. There were new additions to his army, as well. Dog like creature that jumped from Aurora to Aurora, clawing their way through the wall of flesh, and greedily tearing at the pieces of cloth.
There were women with the body of girls and the torso and legs of a snake, hissing at the frightened Ministry workers, while stabbing at them with three pronged spears. Is that a trident? Regulus wondered. There were even two or three warriors dressed in shining bronze armor, with weapons much like the ones that Percy had used. The Dark Lord has certainly been busy, he mused, before jumping out of the way of a red beam of light. Glancing at the frightened worker who had shot at him, he casually flipped his dagger over, bonking the unfortunate man on the head with the hilt of his dagger. Suddenly, black curls filled his vision as a woman ran into him.
"Reggy!" She crooned, as Regulus looked down into the face of one Bellatrix Lestrange. She looked fierce and dishevelled, but nevertheless beautiful, and he took her in before whispering in her ear.
"Bella. I have missed you." She wriggled out of his arms.
"Come on, there's sport to be had! So many blood-traitors and filth to exterminate!" She shrieked with laughter and ran off. Regulus sighed. The woman was just as crazy as he had remembered. Lost in thought, he barely missed an elbow in his face before a loud serpentine voice filled the room. Everyone hushed, and the fighting immediately ceased.
"Ah! Welcome back, my most loyal, I am glad to see you well." He looked over to see Voldemort, standing on a cracked piece of railing, wand pointed at his throat, addressing those who had just gotten there, a wicked smile on his face. A ragged cheer followed that Regulus joined in half-heartedly. Voldemort turned to Percy.
"And you as well, brother!"
Regulus drew a breath in surprise, before turning to Percy who was at his side. The boy rolled his eyes before looking up at him.
"We're only half-brothers, actually." He turned and nodded at Voldemort, who smirked at him in return. Although this fact seemed to be old news to some of the Death Eaters, the ministry workers gazed in horror at their new found threat. How could this boy of sixteen be related to the Dark Lord? Suddenly a stray bolt of green light flew towards Percy, the sickly colour identifying it as Avada Kedavra. Too fast, the spell rammed into the boy's head, sinking into his skull. The entire congregation gathered its breath and waited. When nothing happened, they gazed at the boy in alarm. Voldemort snorted impatiently, before flicking a black curse at the worker who had fired the spell, felling him.
"You'll find that no spell can harm him," He said smoothly, before continuing. "I am here to relieve the ministry of its duties, that is all. We wish no harm to your government, only that you hand control over to us, by giving up your Minister of Magic, the incompetent Cornelius Fudge. If not, I fear the we shall have to attack." He paused and looked at the haggard Auroras. When he received no reply but a red curse fired at him, he frowned.
"Very well, I suppose then we must strike!" With a roar, the Death Eaters ran towards the Ministry Workers, who to their credit stood their ground. Even his fellow prisoners, who had just been languishing in their cells hours ago sprang with newfound energy towards their foe. Regulus ran forward, carefully striking Auroras on the head with the hilt of his dagger while out of the corner of his eye, he observed Percy in action.
The boy was fast, and obviously accustomed to fighting with arms rather than magic. He sprang from person to person with a speed and grace not present in most wizards. Rather than dodge the curses thrown at him, his took them head on, getting in close range to the enemy before disabling them with a slash to the nerves of their limbs. Unusual, Regulus noted, that the boy never killed any of his victims, while it wasn't true for the others bearing arms.
Grimacing in pain, Regulus quickly dispatched a fallen worker who had a spear sticking out of his gut with a quick slice across the throat, gagging at the stench of blood.
"You alright?" He glanced up to see Percy dueling with a man who had the smart idea to conjure a sword for himself, seeing as spells were ineffective against the brother of Voldemort. Leaping out of the way of a clumsy thrust that left the man open, Percy flipped his knife around, before knocking the man under his chin with the hilt, putting him to sleep. As the man clattered to the ground, four more Auroras, bearing similar conjured swords surrounded him, in a flurry of flailing limbs. Carefully, he saw Percy dodge under the blows, making the men more and more frustrated, before dealing one a swift kick in the knees, toppling him on top of one of his comrades.
Turning to the other two, he jammed his blade under the throat of one, before elbowing him backwards. He dealt with the other just as quickly with a sharp jab to the gut. Whirling he spotted Voldemort fending off a pack of Auroras, and springing over, dislodging the group quickly.
It was a fierce sight, watching Percy with his knife, the Dark Lord himself had turning to a conjured dagger, Regulus realized, much like his own, and was quickly dispatching the attackers with swift stabs in several vital places. Each brother worked his way towards the other, until they were standing back to back surrounded by a circle of Auroras. With a snap, Regulus realized that theirs was the only fight left in the chamber, as he was surrounded by a field of fallen blue robes. He winced, inwardly. The other Death Eaters were watching as well, including the dog like creatures and the snake women, all attention directed towards the standoff.
Back to back, the brothers turned, muscles tensed like a pair of lean alley cats. Percy, with his knife out in front of him, Voldemort with his dagger drawn back to strike. The Auroras looked at each other, and together, they leaped forward, and the duo were lost in a sea of flailing blue. A second later, they remerged, as the Auroras toppled, and the spectators realized what was happening. Percy's knife was a flash of bronze as he struck smooth and gracefully, combining a form of material arts and he lashed out with his legs, a continuously moving form alight with the grace of sort of ballerina. Reaching out, he dispatched two Auroras with a single swipe, blood splattering his face as the two toppled backwards.
Voldemort on the other hand had a more erratic style. Striking like a viper, he struck with his dagger randomly, his moves unpredictable. With a casual throw, he lodged his blade in the throat of one assailant before producing another just as quickly from the folds of his robes, flicking it in the direction of an Aurora that was overwhelming Percy. Percy grunted, and kicked the fallen Aurora, sending the body flying towards his teammates, using the distraction to land a punch on the nose of another.
The two of them were quickly finishing the entire group off, Regulus realized, as did many of the others, as they began to cheer, spurring to two on.
"Enough!" a voice suddenly boomed through the halls. "Gerald, Stonewall, that's enough!" Two of the Aurors hesitated, before, turning to the source of the voice, along with the other occupants of the hall. It came from a small man standing at the foot of the giant staircase leading to the upper floors.
"What is it!" Voldemort snarled, dagger poised to strike.
"I am Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, and I surrender, if you let the rest of the Aurors go." Regulus gasped. This was it. The day Voldemort took control. Looking at the Dark Lord, he saw the man smirk before nodding to Percy.
"Very well, I accept."
Cornelius Fudge suddenly looked very old, as he glanced at the remaining Auroras. With reluctant expressions they apparatus out of sight, leaving the behind a completely destroyed chamber.
Regulus glanced down at the man known as the minister of magic, standing tall and proud before Voldemort. Fudge had surrendered his wand willingly, and now stood on trial in the hall where they had just raged battle, minutes after the Ministry had lost. The Death Eaters had gathered behind their lord, as he glared down at Fudge.
"So, Minister Fudge. I am sorry to say that I must kill you." He hissed, his reptilian voice tinged with pleasure.
"I am prepared to die for my country." The wizard stated, calmly. Voldemort grinned.
"But it is my country now!" Fudge didn't say anything.
"Perseus!" Regulus turned to see the boy walk up to his brother, robes swishing.
"What's up?" Everyone gasped at the casual familiarity that lined his tone. Of course, Voldemort didn't seem to care a bit.
"You see, Minister Fudge must die. And since it was you who helped us take down this foe, I would like you to do us the honour of executing him."
Percy gaped at his brother. It was as Regulus suspected. The boy couldn't kill, despite his appearances.
"M-me? Um, as flattering that would be, I think I'll pass." He stuttered, all grace gone. He had indeed gone rather pale, and Regulus thought he could see beads of sweats trailing down the side of his face.
"No, brother, think of this, as-your initiation. The man deserves to die, anyways." The words rolled smoothly off of Voldemort's tongue as he placed his own dagger in his brother's hands. Percy stepped forward hesitantly.
"I've never done a public execution before. Rather too barbaric for my liking, just saying…" Percy mumbled, raising the knife.
"You must do it." Voldemort spoke more urgently now, and Percy's hands clenched on the hilt of his blade. You bastard, Regulus thought. Your own brother, and you use him like this… Regulus wondered, then why Percy was even helping the Dark Lord. He had never heard Voldemort having family, and Percy didn't seem like the type to get mixed up in the dark arts. Suddenly, Percy turned and spoke in a strange language, the tones lilting and somewhat convoluted, strange, and beautiful. Voldemort seemed to start, before replying in the same, chilling tongue. Percy seemed to calm at that, and bracing himself, brought the knife up to Fudge's neck. The entire congregation drew in a breath as they watched a trickle of blood run down Fudge's throat. The Minister closed his eyes, as Percy drew in a breath.
"Hey! Seaweed Brain!" A girl's voice interrupted the proceedings. Percy jumped, and the knife clattered out of his hand as he whirled around, face paling at the source of the new voice. Regulus turned, and saw five teens approached, from what appeared to be one of the floo entrances of the ministry. A blond girl about Percy's age at the front, with sharp grey eyes, followed by a younger boy with dark hair and eyes. Behind him trailed an older, redheaded boy, a girl with bushy hair, and-was that Harry Potter?
"Annabeth" Percy's voice was shocked as he uttered the name. "What are you doing here?" The girl glared back.
"I'm here to stop you, obviously. I promise, Percy Jackson you will regret betraying me!"
End of Part 9
Overall, I can't say I'm proud of this chapter. Maybe it's that my plot bunny ran off, but it was just hard to write, and the scenes dragged on. A filler chapter, I have to admit. Anyways, constructive criticism is appreciated, and encouragement leads to faster updates, so please review….Happy New Year!