Chapter six rolls around.
M-rated warning: torture scenes described in detail (not indicated with story breaks).
Have fun reading. And as always: Read, Review, and if you enjoy it, Favourite!
Chapter 6
Accident site, near Road between Hogsmeade and Hogwarts, Scottish Highlands
James panicked and jumped out as soon as his carriage had stopped and slowly turned around. That explosion had come from Sirius and Harry's carriage just ahead of them, with only Professor Clarke's carriage between them.
He tried to run to the edge of the road they walked on, and saw the carriage rolling down violently and quite quickly. No way could James keep up with that, even as Prongs. He tried to run down, to help Harry and Sirius and Peter, the only things on his mind right now.
Only to be held back. He tried to pull himself forward, but it was no use. Someone far stronger than he was was holding him back, as he watched two people fly out the broken carriage door, and the carriage itself come to a stop against a tree stump at the bottom of the hill. He turned around, to look in the eyes of Hermione and Remus.
"You'll only get yourself killed, James," Remus said. "Look."
James followed Remus's finger, and swallowed deeply. A dozen Death Eaters were already apparating in, and nearly eight more appeared from hiding places all around the bottom of the hill (hell, one even crawled out from underneath the carriage), and were already on the students down there.
"We have to help them," James insisted. "They'll get killed otherwise."
"I'll help them," a new voice said, and Professor Clarke jumped down from his own carriage just ahead of them. "You stay here, or it's detention every night until you graduate. That's an order!"
James reluctantly swallowed, but did as he was told: Professor Clarke was a former Auror, one of the few ones overseas uncle Fleamont had a good word about, and his family had faith in him. He'd been in such an emergency once before, when a fight broke out as he and his father were birthday shopping for Mum, and knew when to obey such an order.
Yet most students didn't, though, as those riding with professor Clarke all left the carriage and ran down to help him. James frowned, though, when he noticed they were predominantly Slytherins, among them Snivellus, Greengrass, Davis, Sirius' brother, Sterling, Mulciber and Avery. All of them were casting spells in the Death Eaters' general direction, and it developed into a chaotic mêlée down there.
"Screw it," James said, grabbing his own wand and running to join the fray. He'd be damned if Snivellus got to boast about how he heroically tried to help the other students, including James's best friend and brother, while James himself stood by. He ignored Remus and Hermione's attempts to get him to come back, instead running down the hill as fast as he could. Clarke was already near the Death Eaters, and fighting against most of them. Potions were being thrown everywhere, and with every explosion or flash of light from them a Death Eater fell to the ground.
But even as he approached, James realised it was too late. Death Eaters started portkeying or apparating out, and those too injured to do so were being grabbed hold of by those who weren't. Professor Clarke tried to hold on to one of the unconscious Death Eaters, but as James ran up to help he was knocked aside by...
Antonin Dolohov.
Shit.
Clarke was easily knocked aside by the man's Depulso, and Dolohov grabbed the woman's shoulder before both of them disappeared, long before either the professor or James could get a look at the woman's face.
He looked around, but he was too late: Dolohov had been the last one, apparently. All that was left were the flaming carriage and the various students approaching. Deciding it was safe enough, James hurried inside. To his relief, Sirius was just waking up, as were Peter and Marlene. But there was no sign of Harry, Bones, or any of the others. He made a quick look around. Ginny was getting up from the grass, a large bruise on her forehead. That was one of them accounted for at least. But the others...
"Luna!" Hermione yelled, and she and Remus ran over to a limp form by one of the handful of tree stumps that were scattered at the bottom of the hill. After making sure Sirius and Peter were all right (and judging from the fact Sirius made a crass joke about his sexuality when he kept asking, and Peter snickered loudly when he asked, they likely were) he ran over as well.
"She's all right," Remus reassured him when he arrived, and a stressed Luna was held comfortingly by Hermione as the girl stared blankly ahead of her. "They just stunned her."
"What happened, Luna?" James asked, pausing as Sirius, Peter, and Ginny walked over as well, and Ron approached at a small trot too. When they all arrived, James continued. "All we saw was a bright flash, and the next thing we know your carriage is tumbling down the hill, and Death Eaters are swarming all over the place when it stopped."
Luna made a quick look around, before leaning in and whispering. "The Death Eaters have a spy inside the school."
"What?" Most of them asked at various states of loudness, James having to hold his ears when Ron practically yelled it in his ear.
"I was flung out of the carriage," Luna quickly explained. "I didn't land too hard, as I still could get up. I saw the Death Eaters approach the carriage, and tried to ambush them. It didn't work, as I was a bit outnumbered, and had to hide almost immediately. I saw Bones and Neville being grabbed hold of by the Death Eaters when Harry tackled one of them. Then I was hit by a stunner."
"So you were ambushed from the side." Ron refuted. "It's bad, they could've killed you for Godric's sake, but it can happen. That doesn't mean that-"
Luna put her finger to his lips, silencing him immediately. "You don't understand. I couldn't see who it was, but from where and how it impacted I know it came from up there." She removed the finger from Ron's lips and pointed, and they all looked. James's stomach sank.
She was pointing to the top of the hill, where the carriages stood. Far above where the Death Eaters had made a defensive stand. That meant it had been one of the students.
Knowing it would never have been any of their group, he looked around, casting suspicious glances at the predominantly Slytherin students: Greengrass, Snivellus, Regulus, and Sterling, the latter shaking a bit as she suffered a mild panic attack. Avery and Mulciber, grumbling amongst themselves as they inspected the carriage. Two more with Slytherin ties James didn't know by name, as they were explaining to Professor Clarke what they saw happen. And Davis, helping Marlene up the hill and back to the carriages.
And in that moment he knew one of them had likely done it. They just had to. Professor Clarke was a good man, his uncle had said so himself. Clarke had, in fact, once earned a life debt from Fleamont when they'd hunted Dolohov when he'd been sighted in the States a year back, so there was not a doubt in his mind the man was innocent. So he was definitely out. That simply left the students. But who? None of them were hostile to those on the carriage, and had no reason to have them kidnapped. If it had been Sirius who'd been taken, James would've gladly pointed the finger at Snivellus. The greasy hit would do anything to get the Marauders killed or expelled. But it had been Harry, who had been instructing most of them in the DA, and of whom almost everyone in the school had a very high opinion of. So who?
"James." Sirius said, and James turned to a fear-stricken face. James looked to where Sirius was staring.
And paled. His father was running down the hill, a pair of furious Bones twins right on his heels. James swallowed, Knowing it was up to him to explain to his father that Harry had been taken. And while he knew the man wasn't angry at him, Charlus could be bloody terrifying when he was upset.
Grabbing the few shreds of Gryffindor courage he had left, he got up and walked to his father, not looking forward to explaining that his virtual brother had been taken by Dolohov.
Unknown
The world swirled slightly as Harry regained consciousness. His jaw ached from the kick Karkaroff had given him, and he felt blood trickle down his chin and neck as he was dragged down the hallways of... wherever he was. He tried to raise his head, and see where he was going. But all he saw were robed figures he couldn't make sense of in his dizzy state, and torches lining black walls with vague decorations. He did recognise Karkaroff, though, as the Death Eater boasted loudly as he walked ahead of Harry, his minions dragged Harry down the corridor.
"Greyback, he's coming to," the voice of the one dragging Harry's left arm said, and Harry realised they could see he was awake.
"Stay down!" Greyback roared, let go of Harry's right arm with one hand and promptly gave him another punch to the mouth. The world dizzied again, and the edges of his vision blackened, but Harry somehow managed to remain conscious. He took his time clearing his head, and wisely also kept his eyes in narrow slits at most.
He could make out a bit more now. Death Eaters, or their allies, as Harry wasn't sure if they were all high enough in rank to be marked, were cheering on what Harry realised was a victory procession. He hung his head a bit more, pretending to finally fall into unconsciousness, and was dismayed to recognise Neville being dragged behind him as well, also unconscious. Likely to humiliate them, hence why they were dragged here instead of floated there under levitation and a body-bind.
Wherever they were being dragged, it had come to an end, as they emerged into a large underground chamber.
"Enervate," a voice whispered; Harry felt the invigorating effects of the spell hit him, and he pretended to suddenly regain consciousness.
No longer needing to pretend, he freely looked around where he was. The chamber was massive, nearly as big as the Great Hall. It was, like Slughorn's office, lined with works of art, and small statues of gold and platinum half again the average person's height. Clearly, whoever had decorated the chamber had meant to impress. Filling the room were dozens of Death Eaters and their allies, all of them masked in either official Death Eater regalia, or shabby and thick clothes and robes that also covered the faces of the wearer. Harry also reckoned he saw a few Vampires and Werewolves in the crowd, and even a bunch of goblins that watched him with calculating sneers not dissimilar from the future Snape.
The crowd parted a bit, and a group of Death Eaters joined them, marching in front of Karkaroff and the others. Harry caught a glimpse of Dolohov before the man turned to face the centre of the room, where they seemed to be headed.
The crowd parted as they finally arrived. Harry was suddenly tossed forward, landing on his hands and knees; Neville was tossed down on his right. Amelia landed on Neville's right, completing the row. Harry looked up, and saw a Throne covered in shadows in the centre of the cleared circle.
This was bad, Harry realised. They'd been ambushed by Death Eaters and were likely in their headquarters right now, outnumbered and outmatched by likely fifty to one by the looks of the crowd, with no one knowing where the hell they were. And, if Harry really had characteristic Potter luck, he'd likely even meet Voldemort himself again. Not a good idea this early at all. Even if no one else was around and they were somewhere of Harry's choosing, the monster still had decades of experience and vast knowledge of magic that Harry didn't have, and likely could beat Harry without breaking a sweat. His odds of surviving just dropped to near-zero.
"As promised, my Lord," Dolohov announced, taking position in front of Harry and the others. "Neville Longbottom, Harry Potter, and Amelia Bones."
"You have done well, Antonin," a voice answered, and Harry's neck hairs stood up immediately upon recognising it. "I trust there were few problems acquiring them?"
"Potter put up a good fight. A true son of the Baron, if there was any doubt before. But he did nothing more permanent than cast a stunning charm and cause a bruise. We were also noticed by the DADA professor and a handful of other students, and a couple of us were injured, but none could reach us before we got the children out of there."
"Very good," the voice complimented, before a hooded figure came down from the shadow-covered throne. "You will be rewarded greatly for this service, Antonin. Come see me after I'm done with the three you've brought me."
Antonin nodded, and stepped back to the edge of the crowd so he could still observe, yet not stand out. The figure from the throne calmly walked towards them, as if it were only a mere stroll in the park, until he stood right in front of them.
"Ah, Amelia Bones." Voldemort began, as he knelt a bit so he could look her in the eye. Amelia wisely looked away and downwards, preventing direct Legilimency contact. "Infamous daughter of Deckard Bones and a muggle peasant. You have quite the reputation with my followers in Hogwarts," the lead Death Eater sneered. "Well on your way to becoming an Auror. Perhaps even a hit wizard, if you prove tenacious enough."
Amelia grumbled something, before looking up, focusing on Voldemort's forehead. "Better to fight and die for something I believe in, than bowing down and kissing your dirty feet."
Most Death Eaters gasped at the insult, or started giving threats that made Harry seriously rethink his own planned response when the Voldemort came to talk about him. In contrast to his followers, though, Voldemort merely chuckled.
"Ooooh, such spirit, Amelia," he cackled happily. "Oh, we'll have a fun time breaking that one resolve of yours," he smirked, before walking over to stand in front of Neville.
"And here is the first mystery man," Voldemort proclaimed, as he stared down at a nervous yet defiant looking Neville. "Neville Longbottom. You know what I find very interesting, Neville?"
"Merlin's left ballsack?" Harry sarcastically murmured before he could stop himself. Evidently it wasn't quiet enough though. The next thing he knew an enormous amount of pain swept over him, like a thousand boiling-hot knives stabbing him at every exposed bit of space on his body. He fell down and jerked on the ground, arching his back as an agonising torment swept over him. Harry blacked out for a moment, as the pain became too much for him to bear at that moment.
"...speak unless spoken to, Potter," Voldemort whispered, as Harry was awakened with another Enervate bare instants before the blackness engulfed him entirely, and the Cruciatus curse was lifted. "I was talking to Neville."
Harry wisely kept silent, as Voldemort returned his gaze to Neville, who had his head averted away as well, though he scanned the crowd instead of looking down. "As I was saying," Voldemort continued. "The very interesting thing about you, Neville, is that you should not exist."
Harry widened his eyes, as he got himself to his hands and knees again, kept from rising fully by an unknown curse of Voldemort that kept them bowing to him. Voldemort was eyeing Neville greedily. "You see Neville, when you and Harry were supposed to be born, your family had a certain ally who would have witnessed such an event: Reginald Lestrange, an old friend of your father's."
Harry saw Neville nod. "We heard of him," Neville affirmed. "A bastard that tortures Squibs for fun."
The Dark Lord merely chuckled. "Yes, your family has made their opinion of the Lestranges and their change of allegiance very clear," Voldemort acknowledged. "But what I find very curious, is that his exact memories of Augusta Longbottom at that time are fuzzed over now, while I myself distinctly recall from past encounters of Legilimency that she wasn't pregnant at the time at all."
Harry's heart skipped a few beats in concern, as Voldemort looked Neville a bit closer in the eye. In addition to the Fidelius charm Luna had cast to lightly change the identities of Ron and Ginny to throw off similarities to the Weasleys, they'd also cast Fidelius charms about Neville and himself, so people couldn't recall exactly whether Dorea and Augusta had been pregnant at the supposed times of birth, to throw off questions of the more inquisitive people. But even if Voldemort didn't know exactly about the time travel, he (at the very least) knew something was off with their arrival if he managed to break that part of the Fidelius. True, their actual resemblances and similar accents to how Potters and Longbottoms spoke lent them credibility, but it wouldn't last should Voldemort dive any deeper.
Voldemort took a bit of distance, and fortunately looked a bit frustrated. "Impressive Occlumency shields, Longbottom. But they won't protect you forever," he snarled, before moving over to stand in front of Harry.
"And you, Potter." Voldemort smirked. "A rogue son no one knew existed, supposedly sent to the continent to properly learn to channel his power. Yet so weak he couldn't even protect his friends."
The crowd surrounding them laughed at this, and Harry glared angrily at them all. As the silence fell and Voldemort looked like he was about to continue, Harry spoke up. "Strength and power must seem like funny things for someone who hides behind his followers and mysterious cloaks, Voldemort."
The crowd gasped in shock, and Voldemort lost his smile. He smacked Harry with the back of his hand, bringing him back down on the ground with the strength of the blow.
"AAAAAAH!" Voldemort screamed, as he stepped back, and Harry looked up in surprise. Had Voldemort hurt himself by stepping onto something?
No, Harry saw. Voldemort was clutching the hand he'd struck Harry with in pain, and said hand was covered in blisters... as if he'd been burned. Harry gasped, having seen this type of injury occur only once before.
With Quirrel.
Of course! The Voldemort of this time didn't have Harry's blood running through him, which meant the blood protection his mother had given him would still be running strong. It wasn't as strong as it was supposed to be, since Voldemort could still hurt him magically — as the Cruciatus he'd just cast proved very clearly — but physically, Voldemort could not touch him without causing himself significant injury.
One weakness spotted, and a plan to make. He needed to power up the strength of that shield again, and soon. And that meant casting a blood ward with his mother's blood somewhere where she often visited yet didn't seem suspicious for her to do so. Gryffindor tower would be easiest, but he doubted this Dumbledore would allow it without knowing all the details why, something Harry wasn't willing to share yet.
Focus! Harry chastised himself. Voldemort had finally healed his hand, and lost any semblance of amusement he had in the first place. Instead, he now stared at Harry with intrigue.
"Who are you, Harry Potter?" Voldemort asked, striding again towards Harry yet stopping far enough away he wouldn't be hit if Harry suddenly lunged out. "That form of blood protection is ancient and dark, and not something the Potters typically use." He cast an unknown spell with his wand, and Harry's head suddenly shot upwards, staring directly at Voldemort. Harry realised with horror he also couldn't move his eyes. "Let's find out why they used it, shall we? Legilimens!"
Harry immediately closed off his mind, as Dorea had instructed over the summer. Step one: keep him out of your mind. Create a mind house to house all your memories in, and hide them in ways only you would know where to look. Then cover that house in an image. One that you recognise easily, and in which you should instantly see any wrongness of an intrusion you can keep out.
The intrusion was there immediately, like it had been with his scar. It was obvious, painful, and started hammering away at any mental defences he had. Harry's way of defending his mind, keeping everything covered under a vast darkness no one could find their way in, was torn asunder as Voldemort tried to read Harry's mind. Harry tried to fill the holes of light that appeared in the darkness, but for every hole he managed to close three more appeared that were twice as difficult to seal away.
Then the darkness was cleared from his mind with a loud bang, and he knew the darkness had lifted.
Step two: If someone manages to lift that blank image from the house, keep him busy. Show him unimportant memories he doesn't want to see, like what you had for breakfast last week, or a fun date with friends that had you laughing. Keep him confused and occupied while you try to restore your mental defences.
Immediately, as Voldemort began searching for answers on that blood protection, he shoved a memory right in front of his mental presence, the one where he went to the zoo with the Dursleys. Voldemort quickly discarded it, though, fortunately before Harry's instance of Parseltongue that day could come to light, and began searching once more. This time, Harry shoved another useless memory at Voldemort before he could get his hands on an important one: an afternoon he had enjoyed with Ron and Hermione by the lake, shortly after the second task. Hermione had been reading a book, sharing amused yet exasperated expressions with them when Harry and Ron kept talking about Quidditch. Voldemort easily swept away that one as well.
This time, Voldemort managed to reach a memory before Harry could shove a useless one in his face. And Harry mentally paled: this was one he didn't want Voldemort to see. It was the instance in the chamber, in second year. The exact moment Voldemort revealed his real name and the anagram, to be precise. Ginny was fortunately behind him at that moment as Harry had stood upright in front of her to defend her body, but the diary lay clearly at Voldemort's feet.
Harry felt the shock Voldemort experienced upon seeing that. A shock so great, in fact, that he felt Voldemort withdraw from his mind. Harry looked up, as he feebly tried to restore what mental defences he had. Voldemort had a shocked expression on his face, that soon turned to rage as he looked at Harry in a new light.
Then he lifted his wand and cast a Sonorous, not even bothering to look away from Harry. "IF YOU HAVE APPOINTMENTS TO KEEP TODAY, YOU WILL LEAVE NOW! THIS SESSION IS GOING TO TAKE FAR LONGER THAN USUAL!" Voldemort announced. Immediately, a third of the people in the room stepped away or moved to exit, while the remainder stepped forwards in eager expectations, clearly wanting front-row seats for what was about to happen.
"Pyrites," Voldemort said calmly, finally looking away to address his subordinate. "Before your service to me, you were once disguised as a muggle intelligence agent, were you not?"
"Yes, my Lord." The man stepped forward and bowed, addressing his master.
"Then you know of various muggle torture techniques, I presume. Techniques even I don't know about," Voldemort pointed out. Harry felt more than saw the faces of most of those present gain wide smiles at that, including the one being addressed.
"Oh yes, my Lord. Dozens of ways to torture people, each as cruel and inventive as the next."
Voldemort smiled again, and stepped aside. "In that case, step forward and feel free to demonstrate them all on Potter. And have Bones and Longbottom watch," Voldemort added when the latter two immediately began to struggle. "I need answers from them all, and if they see what I'm willing to put their friend through, they might loosen their tongues."
"Don't say a wommmph" Harry tried to warn them, but he was immediately muffled as Pyrites eagerly conjured a towel and charmed it to cover his nose and lower face, and was partially pressed into his mouth to stop it from closing. Next he felt himself being levitated so he was upright, and a body-bind take over everything below the shoulders, so he could only move his head and neck. He saw the panicking looks of Neville and Amelia, as they were kept on their knees by Dolohov, Greyback, Karkaroff, and a foreign wizard Harry hadn't seen before, a fierce-looking redhead with a beard and mustache. They were the last thing he saw before Pyrites adjusted the towel a bit, so it covered his entire face.
"This one's a fun one, my Lord." Pyrites began. "Muggles call it 'water boarding'. I could go on for hours about what's so beautiful about it, but basically we repeatedly nearly drown him. Like so!"
Harry's suddenly panicked, as a very strong current of water hit the towel, and water started to enter through his nose and mouth as the towel was soaked wet in seconds, and the water started to leak through by the bucketfuls. He panicked himself, as he started to lose his breath. He struggled, trying to move his head and miss the endless stream of water hitting him, but it was too large. He tried to push the towel out with his tongue and close his mouth, but the pressure of the water and the force of whatever spell kept it around his head prevented him from moving it. He couldn't even breathe through his nose, as the water entered through there as well. He tried again to dislodge it, as he started to suffocate, and his vision started to blacken.
Suddenly the towel was pulled harshly from his face, and he wasted no time spitting out and coughing up the water. He tried to take a breath full of air, relishing in the stale, muddy taste of it in the underground chamber.
Pyrites pulled his head up. "Don't do it too long in one go my Lord," Pyrites explained. "Or he might actually drown and die on us, leaving him with little more use than an Inferius."
Harry looked around, and saw a gleeful Voldemort nod. "Very instructive, Pyrites. Before we continue with the lessons, though, I have a question. Would the torture be worse if the victim was affected by Dementors at the time of the torturing?"
Pyrites nodded, though his smile lessened a bit. "Yes, though anyone not in control of them would also be affected, including some of the torturers."
"How fortunate then, that Dementors only affect those I ask them to," Lord Voldemort said, as he gestured with his wand at the doors. The followers that could cast the Patronus got the hint, and soon various animals joined them, including other snakes, Tigers, wolves, cheetahs, bears, rats, and other animals. Harry, Neville, and Amelia were kept unprotected.
No sooner had the last one been cast, than four Dementors swooped into the room, gliding over the floor towards the centre. Two of them moved to hover beside Harry, while Amelia and Neville got one each. Harry instantly felt all happiness and hope abandon him, and felt the gloomy presence of them press down on him. He heard his mother's scream in the background again, as he relived his worst memory with one part of his mind while he tried to take in his surroundings with another. "Tried" being the key word.
"Now, another way to torture is a bit more familiar to you, my Lord," Pyrites said. "It's simple, really, and given we know magic it can be done at any given time," Pyrites smirked, and Harry's gloomy mood got worse at the prospect of what could be ahead of him.
"Electricity," Voldemort said knowingly.
Pyrites nodded, and raised his wand to cast. "Indeed, Electricity. Especially with the spell Fulmenio."
Harry's head jerked, as bolts of lightning shot from Pyrites' wand, which all hit Harry at various places. He jerked his head in agony, each bolt giving him painful shocks far above what he could usually tolerate. He faintly heard a female voice scream in the background, but he couldn't respond. He barely knew who it was, let alone whether they were screaming in happiness at his pain, or whether they were crying out trying to stop his suffering.
He felt a particularly nasty bolt hit his neck, and he almost lapsed into unconsciousness again. But apparently people wanted him awake for his suffering, for another Enervate was cast almost immediately. The bolts stopped coming, or at least in his pained state Harry saw no more flashes of light from the bolts.
He still jerked a bit, and was startled to realise he was freed of the body bind, and had been lowered onto the ground. Harry tried to bring the world in focus again, and saw Voldemort hovered over him.
"Did you enjoy that, Potter?" Voldemort asked. "Screaming in pain while lying on the floor like a wastrel? Well, there will be more of that, unless you answer my questions."
Harry doubted Voldemort would keep his word if Harry answered those questions, considering what he already knew.
"Now, Pyrites, continue torturing the boy," Voldemort instructed. "If he doesn't talk of his own volition in the next hour, start on the girl."
Harry's eyes widened in horror, and he tried to rise up onto his feet. Voldemort merely laughed, though and pointed his own wand while saying in a dull bored tone "Crucio."
Harry writhed on the ground in pain again, as he felt the torture curse sweep over him a second time. He arched his back and squeezed his eyes closed, willing the agony to go away. He started to feel a bit numb, as the pain was starting to get to him...
He focused on that pain, as it let him know he was alive. As long as he felt that pain, he knew he still had a chance, and that he wasn't insane yet. He willed his mind to persist against the ravaging pain of the Cruciatus curse as it tore through his nervous system. He willed it to go away, or at least turn the magic into something else. If only it could just feed him instead of hurting him...
To his shock, the pain receded. Not in the immediate and abrupt way the Cruciatus curse was usually lifted, but slowly and tentatively, like water slowly draining away out of a leak in a bucket. But by the fact the pain stopped entirely in his right hand told him enough. He willed it away further, and found to his shock the pain of the curse was, while not gone, at least at manageable levels. As if he'd merely had a long hard day of Quidditch practice with Oliver Wood and Frank Longbottom teaming up as coaches instead of being held under an Unforgivable.
He got to his hands and knees, his limbs shaking and trembling in exertion as they did. He had to persist, if only so they wouldn't hurt Amelia and Neville...
He rose so he was only on one knee, drawing a gasp of shock or similar exclamation of disbelief from nearly everyone present that he was able to resist the Cruciatus curse to this extent. He rose so he was only resting on one knee, his other foot already raised to stand on the ground.
"Crucio!" Voldemort renewed the curse, and Harry felt the pain renew. He fell to his knees again, and this time didn't get up again. The pain was simply starting to become too much for him to bear physically, and he was nearly drained magically from reducing the pain the Cruciatus induced on him. While Harry realised it was an impressive feat to resist the curse in this manner at all, much less wandlessly, he knew he couldn't hold it now even if he tried. He blacked out again.
"Enervate," Voldemort whispered again, and Harry groaned as he was kept awake.
"Very impressive, Mister Potter." Voldemort praised him. "Using your own magic to feed off of the pain instead of letting it consume you. I think for that alone, you deserve a small form of reprieve."
Harry looked up tiredly. He doubted the Dark Bastard child was just going to let him go that easily.
He was proven right. "Interrogations and Legilimency sessions will be postponed," Voldemort announced. "Antonin, Igor: you two had the most trouble because of Potter during your capture of him. You two will get to torture his friends while he watches."
Harry's eyes widened, as the two immediately and eagerly cast Crucio at his friends, and both writhed as the fell on the ground. Amelia arched her back, and let out an ear-splitting scream that broke Harry's heart, while Neville simply grunted and bit his own tongue so hard it bled to keep himself from screaming likewise. Harry struggled to try and get up, to help them, but his own body failed him: he didn't have enough strength to do more than briefly raise his body, before collapsing in exhaustion. A second later Voldemort cast his own Crucio at Harry, and his screams of pain joined those of his friends, as Neville was finally forced to give in.
All three of them, and the rest of the room for that matter, were unaware one Death Eater looked away and placed a silencing charm on herself so no one heard her while she wept for her family's allies behind her mask.
Riddle Manor Dungeons, Little Hangleton, England
Bellatrix gave one more look around before heading down. The prisoners would've been kept here, if her information was right: the Manor was too full to accommodate the prisoners safely, with so many rogue followers there that would've likely abused the situation to torture the prisoners some more, despite Voldemort's orders that they be kept alive and alone for further questioning. The Catacombs, being the headquarters for Death Eater activities, were just as unsuited, as when they were built there hadn't been built any side chambers the prisoners could be housed in. Hence, why they were kept in the original dungeons between the manor and the catacombs.
When Voldemort had first moved his own base of operations here, despite his distaste for his muggle parentage, he'd had a series of catacombs built underneath the old manor and old cellar/dungeons themselves, as he wanted more room for his followers, and a clear distinction between the regular common foot soldiers and the elite Inner Circle members. It also served as a perfect trap in case someone found him here and attacked the manor: they would assume Voldemort would sit high and dry in the expansive, powerful manor that was a symbol of his power, which was instead filled with dozens if not hundreds of his followers who would outnumber any conceivable threat. Meanwhile, Voldemort and his more valuable members would be safe and sound below it all, in his self-built underground bunker which had been disguised and built like catacombs to prevent anyone from asking the wrong questions at Gringotts or the ministry and be discovered too soon. And also because Voldemort had rather disgusting tastes, and they wouldn't have to travel for miles to properly hide a body: Any of the dozen coffins and sarcophagi would do.
Hence, with the manor itself used to house his followers and the catacombs used as headquarters, the dungeons were used to house the servants and prisoners, the former living in only marginally better circumstances than the latter. And currently, Bellatrix was headed for three cells in particular.
As she finally arrived at the levels of the old dungeons, she pressed her Dark Mark against the iron barred door, allowing her to walk through them as if they were mere smoke. It, and the Dementors that guarded the prisoners here, were only a couple of the security measures taken here. In addition, there were also two overseers: a junior recruit named Walden Macnair, and a brutish character named Horatius Wilkes. Bellatrix raised her wand as soon as they approached, and whispered "Imperio." at both of them as she entered the main corridor. She gestured for them to guard the exit and alert her if anyone approached, before setting a command to forget it all once she left.
The cells themselves were easy to spot: prisoners rarely lasted the day, much less the week, and the cells were seldom occupied. And the ones that were were often the only ones properly locked rather than just closed. She entered Bones's cell first. The girl was unconscious, lying on her stomach on the bunk bed of the cell with her face turned away. In retrospect she was the least heavily wounded. All that had been done to her, aside from the Cruciatus curse, were a bit of rough handling on the way to her cell and a new Electricity curse Bellatrix hadn't heard of, Fulmenio. Bellatrix didn't like that curse; it was almost like she could see the tendrils that usually attacked victims whenever they were put under the Cruciatus, and that she could now watch as it hurt people. She dreaded ever being put under that curse, not eager to discover how it really felt like.
She retrieved the potions from her pocket with undetectable extension charms. The most Bones would suffer from would be nerve damage, and there were a few potions that could help with that. They were uncomfortable, unfinished, and experimental, but her friend from Saint Mungo's had promised they would help, and Bellatrix believed him. She turned Bones so her body lay on its back and her head was turned upwards. She then carefully tipped the potion into her former schoolmate's mouth. She did so slowly: too much and the young woman might choke on it. Bellatrix winced, as she saw one of the spots Fulmenio had hit Bones on had left a burn mark on her cheek. She retrieved a bit of burn salve and spread it over the woman's wound. A quick diagnostic spell revealed there were three more spots the curse had been intense enough to have left burn wounds, one of them in a rather intimate spot only another woman would usually be allowed to see. Bellatrix stripped the woman of her upper body robes, as well as the shirt and bra she wore underneath, and applied the salve there as well. Knowing the rest could for now only be healed with time, she redressed the woman (taking the time to hide a spare wand she'd nicked from one of the sleeping recruits in the lining of the right sleeve) and positioned her body so it lay as when Bellatrix had arrived. She left and closed and locked the door to the cell, leaving no apparent trace of her presence.
Potter, in contrast, was the most heavily tortured, and his wounds were clear to see, even from outside the cell. Bellatrix winced, immediately reliving the scene as she approached him. Cruciatus, near-drowning, forced Legilimency, multiple burning and cutting curses at various power levels, Fulmenio, Pyrites using a whip and assaulting Potter's back, a bludgeoning curse that broke his ribs... Potter's wounds were by far the most extensive, as Voldemort and Pyrites had taken out most of their ire on him. In fact, it had gone on for so long the clothes on his upper body were mere tatters, his pants were only hanging on by a belt that was cut halfway through, and his shoes and socks were missing. Bellatrix sighed and entered the cell. Potter was unconscious as well, but unlike Bones he'd just been tossed to the ground in his cell and left to rot.
There was no way she could heal it all. Potter's wounds were too severe for her to handle without Cissy's help, and Voldemort would become suspicious if his prisoners were suddenly at peak medical condition barely a day after being tortured this heavily. Unfortunately, the best Bellatrix could do was ensure he didn't suffer anything permanent. She thinly spread some Essence of Dittany over the various cuts and left it at that, trusting them to heal themselves over the course of the week rather than her healing them with more Dittany or healing charms near instantly. Next she spread burn salve over his burn wounds, and had to fetch Kreacher to resupply her twice with the stuff just so she covered every spot. She also fed him more of the same experimental nerve damage counter-agent she'd brought. She decided to leave the ribs broken, as having them healed would be too obvious an indicator there was a spy in their midst, although she did numb the pain. There was nothing she could do against the near-drowning or the Legilimency damage to his mind, though. Aunt Dorea or Cissy had to look at that.
Bellatrix bit her lip to keep herself from gasping, as she found his hand and read the words carved into his right hand. I must not tell lies. Clear and visible for all to see. And judging by the scarring around it quite old, too. His left shoulder and right arm were also covered in deep scars from his earlier travels, and Bellatrix wondered what the hell this boy had been up to on his travels.
One thing was for sure, though: if they kept being tortured like this, they would end up dead at the end of the week, Harry Potter especially. They needed to be rescued now, and Bellatrix sure as hell couldn't take them all with her. There were too many anti-portkey wards for her to break, and she wouldn't make out of the Manor before being caught if she tried to take them with her outside of said wards' range.
No, she needed to inform her grandfather and his comrades, so they could rescue Potter, Longbottom, and Bones.
And when they left, she would go with them. There was no way she could stay and stand there watching another public torturing session like that. She'd barely lasted the entire time, and only did so under silencing charms cast on herself and the mask she'd worn over her face. True, she'd tortured other people herself often enough, and much of the time she'd gotten carried away with her anger and tortured to the point the victim was on the edge of insanity. But that was nearly always purely for the information they possessed, and the few cases her victims went insane , which really only happened when her betrothed and his brother were present, were mistakes. But what Voldemort and Pyrites did...
If she wasn't scared these three would die without her, she'd have left hours ago.
After ensuring Harry once again lay as he had previously, Bellatrix drew her wand and cast a Patronus. "Potter and cohorts are at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, the original Manor dungeons," she whispered. "You-Know-Who's base of operations. Dozens of followers present, including about a dozen Dementors, Dolohov, Pyrites, and Greyback. If attacking, ignore Manor itself: a death trap filled with followers, nothing of value. Head to lower levels for Bones, Longbottom, and Potter." Bellatrix paused, unsure what else she should order the raven to tell. "After this, I'm done with this mission. Can't stand much more."
Bellatrix then gave a final flick, and the Patronus flew off through the door and headed outside, heading towards her Grandfather, who she knew would by now be with his Potter friend at Hogwarts. Knowing there was nothing more she could do for Potter, she left the cell and locked it again. She didn't bother giving him a spare wand; his clothes were now in such poor condition and so tightly pressed on him the bulge of it would stand out immediately. Finally, she arrived at Longbottom's cell, and looked in once again to make a quick assessment of his condition. She frowned, though. The cell was empty.
He couldn't have gotten far: the Manor's security was too tight in that regard. Thinking quickly, she cast Homenum Revellio.
Ah. Think you're smart, huh? Hiding by keeping yourself pressed up in an alcove in the ceiling, so you can ambush us or sneak out later. Bellatrix hated to admit it likely would've worked with most of the others. With a silent wave of her wand she opened the cell door, and jumped through, out of Longbottom's attack range and leaving her in the middle of the very spacious cell that could have comfortably fit ten people.
As Longbottom jumped down, Bellatrix whirled around and cast a spell, locking the door closed behind him. He turned to her with a feral snarl.
"Bellatrix Lestrange," he practically spat, and she winced at the venom in his voice. "Come to gloat at my fate, have you?"
She shook her head even as she mentally assessed his physical condition. Left arm bruised, Cruciatus and Fulmenio cast on him, various cuts on his chest as well as on his back, and a burn mark on his left shoulder.
Well, that and three distinct claw scars on his face, from the side of his mouth to his scalp. He'd gotten them when the Cruciatus had briefly been lifted on him, and he'd tried to resist and escape, but Greyback (the half-werewolf he was even without the full moon) had quickly slashed him with his claw-like hand and put him back under. It wasn't so disfiguring that he wasn't recognisable anymore, but it had to hurt like hell. He wasn't bitten, fortunately. In Voldemort's presence Greyback had more restraint than that. But scars left by werewolves still had some side effects: more moody during full moons and a taste for rare meats and steaks were among them. But still, he seemed to be able to stay on his feet and fight. Good.
"If I wanted to gloat, I could've just stayed outside the cell," she answered, before drawing the spare she'd recovered from her pocket. She lay it on the floor and with a shove rolled it to Longbottom. He frowned and approached it, but didn't pick it up.
"How do I know that wand isn't cursed?" he asked warily, trying to conceal his right hand. Likely trying to conceal either a devastating wound or, more likely, a weapon of some sort. Bellatrix sighed, as she reached with the hand not holding her wand into the pocket, looking for the remaining Dittany. "It isn't," she denied. "If it was, I could've just thrown it at you."
She was not surprised when Longbottom suddenly threw a rock at her head, which she banished away with her free wand hand with ease. Nor was she surprised when he started to rush her. Her hand finally found the bottle, and she got it out and spelled the pocket shut. She turned to look at Longbottom again.
Only to have a wolf slam into her. Surprised, she dropped the bottle, which fortunately didn't shatter and instead rolled until it was underneath the bunk bed Longbottom had occupied. She was slammed onto her back, and with one paw the wolf kept her wand arm pinned to the ground, while the other pressed to her opposite shoulder. He immediately tried to bite her, and she had to repeatedly duck her head aside while trying to push him away with her free arm to avoid the rather menacing-looking teeth.
After a bit of wiggling, she managed to get her legs under him, and kicked him off. He slammed against the bars of his door before collapsing to the ground, but quickly scurried to get up. Bellatrix did likewise, and hurriedly cast Petrificus Totalus. Anything worse, and she risked aggravating him or his injuries.
The spell missed, though, as the wolf jumped aside, landing by the wand she'd rolled his way. Immediately, the wolf started morphing into Longbottom, though the process took five seconds, and the boy grabbed the wand, before casting Stupefy at her. Bellatrix deftly dodged, and immediately cast another Petrificus Totalus.
The boy was good, for someone still in school: not only did he dodge, he used the momentum of his roll to cast three more spells. A Reducto, another stunner, and Penetro, the Longbottom family's Piercing Hex. Even as the dodged and shielded against them she grabbed her backup wand with her free hand and cast noise-cancelling, vibration-cancelling, and privacy wards to stop other people on other floors from finding out. Longbottom still left enough times between his hexes to do that.
He sent another Reducto at her, which she swiftly cast aside to the alcove above, where it was caved in so he couldn't hide there any longer. Then, when he was distracted by the gravel that came down from the hex, she cast a bodybind at him. This time, fortunately, it hit, and Longbottom's limbs snapped together and he fell down like a wooden plank. Bellatrix sighed, as she relaxed and put away her backup wand in her left sleeve. She walked over, and rolled him onto his stomach. She lifted his robes and shirt, and treated the burn mark on his shoulder with burn salve, and summoned the Dittany bottle again and used it to heal the remaining cuts. She let out a sigh of relief when she saw them receding rapidly, and lowered his shirt and robes again before rolling him onto his back. She got another pair of the nerve damage counter agent potions, and held them out in front of him.
"I'm planning on giving you these," she said. "A friend of mine at Saint Mungo's explained they help against nerve damage." At the hatred still clearly visible in his eyes, she rolled her own. "Look, I'm not going to poison you Longbottom. I'm trying to help you. I'm going to cancel the body bind on you in a few moments. Either you take the potions willingly, or I'll spell them into your mouth and force you to swallow."
She paused, realising that didn't come across as friendly as she'd hoped. She tried again. "Baron Black asked me to spy for him in his ranks, after I was inducted. I'm here to help you." She paused, and without warning decided to lift the body-bind. If he still tried to attack her, she was fast enough to always put him under another. He thumped to the ground, before he scrambled to his feet. He immediately picked up the wand as he did and put as much distance between them as he could in the confines of the cell, but fortunately didn't curse or attack her.
She smirked. "Told you that wand wasn't cursed."
Longbottom grumbled under his breath. Bellatrix sighed, before holding out the potions. He fortunately held out his hand, and she tossed them into it. He held them up for examination, and Bellatrix sat down on the bunk and waited patiently. He wouldn't be able to distinguish the potion by sight anyway, and if it earned his trust to let him do this, so be it.
"Fair warning," Bellatrix said. "Tastes like Skelegrow."
Longbottom's frown, contrary to what she thought possible, grew even deeper, and he lowered the vial. "Why the hell should I drink it then?"
"Do you really want to risk the nerve damage?" Bellatrix challenged.
"How do I know if it isn't a type of poison or something?" he countered. "I'm in Death Eater HQ, surrounded by Death Eaters, and you suddenly show up to help me, after..." He paused, and Bellatrix frowned as he trailed off. But he quickly revised, raising his wand. "when as far as I know you're a Death Eater too? Why the hell should I trust anything you say or do?"
She had to admit Longbottom had her there. To the rest of the world she was still a Death Eater, and given the importance of her role as a spy no one outside the original Rascals would be informed. She needed to do something that showed him she could be trusted.
Without hesitation, she raised her wand. Neville immediately raised his as well when she did, but Bellatrix continued to raise it until it was pointed at the roof while the wand was at chest height. "I, Bellatrix Walburga Black," she scowled, hating her middle name for whom she shared it with. If she ever married, she swore she'd change it along with her surname. "Vow I have no intention to injure, poison, or otherwise bring harm to Neville Longbottom, Amelia Bones, or Harry Potter, and that my true allegiance lies with Baron Arcturus Cygnus Black the Third, and the Great Alliance he formed with Baron Charlus Jonathan Potter. So have I sworn, so mote it be." Her wand briefly lit up as she made the vow, before dimming again. She looked at Neville, who was staring at her win a gobsmacked expression.
"There. Happy?" she asked. Longbottom nodded, though she saw it was with great reluctance, and he lowered his wand until it hung near his hip with his hand. He unstoppered the vial, grimaced, and downed the potion in one gulp. He almost retched afterwards, and she quickly conjured a bucket for him. When he managed to hold it in, though, she transfigured that into a large cup, and filled it with water.
"For the taste," she said, handing it to him. He gratefully took it, and swallowed it all in one gulp, before sitting down on the bunk.
"You healed up Harry and Bones, too?" Neville asked.
"As well as I could without giving away Voldemort has a spy in his ranks," Bellatrix affirmed. "Harry's ribs are still broken, since healing them would be too obvious. But most of his other injuries are healed or busy healing. Same for Bones."
Longbottom nodded in thanks, though it seemed even that was done with great reluctance. Almost as if he believed her to be the most evil thing in the world, and couldn't process the fact she'd done something good. Bellatrix tilted her head curiously. Why did he have that feeling about her already? She'd never met either the boy or the Longbottom families, having made a point to mostly steer clear of the other Great Alliance families whenever she could since joining the Death Eaters. So why was he so hostile to her?
"You good to go?" Bellatrix asked, trying to distract herself. There was no point lamenting it now, when she was somewhere she shouldn't be and had every chance of getting caught. "Or need something else healed that I missed?"
If anything, this made Longbottom frown even more, intriguing her. Before she could ask, though, he shook his head. "I can stand whatever you missed, thanks. Besides, they'll notice if you treat me even more."
Bellatrix nodded, and rose from her seat on the bunk. "Keep that," she said, as she saw Longbottom eye the wand while she strode for the door. "Might give you the element of surprise when we get out."
"When we get out?" Longbottom asked, as he fortunately decided to obey and tried to hide it in the inwardly rolled up sleeve of his robe.
"You'll see," Bellatrix teased, as she opened the door and stepped through. "Fair warning, though: if they respond as well as I suspect, and given it's our fathers and grandfathers they likely will, it'll be a blast."
Longbottom's frown never left his face, and Bellatrix mulled that over as she locked the cell and left him there. What the heck had she done to earn his ire? He seemed... it was almost as if he hated her for something done long ago. But what could that be? Even as children, they'd never met. So why the grudge?
She groaned as she passed (and obliviated) the guards, and headed back up. If she wanted this mystery solved, she needed more information. And that meant getting him and the others out of here.
Entrance Hall, Hogwarts Castle, Scottish Highlands
Charlus stormed up the steps and entered the hall, as he made his way to Dumbledore's office that afternoon after the cleanup at Hogsmeade village. How had the old fool allowed this to happen? Surely after the attack on the ministry at the start of the year he would've realised that it would be unsafe for students to travel to Hogsmeade without protection, or at all. The least he should've done was assign more professors to protect the students, or called in the Auror department for support, or call off the weekend entirely. That would be the wiser choice.
Ok; Charlus admitted it wasn't Dumbledore's fault they were kidnapped. The Headmaster had in fact responded very well, immediately calling the remaining carriages back as soon as the one had been attacked, and the DADA Professor and a handful of students, including Luna herself, one of the occupants of said carriages, had tried to reach them. Dumbledore had even taken the trouble of flaming over himself with his phoenix, but by the time he'd arrived the students had already been taken, and the Death Eaters had disapparated or Portkeyed away with their wounded before any could've been captured and identified.
The rest of the prominent members of the Great Alliance (including Fleamont, Hector, Arcturus, Deckard and Seraphina, Hyperion, and Anamaria Shacklebolt as the Auror on the case) were right behind him, either to rage at the headmaster themselves or to keep those raging in check. Which was a good thing, considering if either Baron raged in a room without at least two people there to keep him in check, the room had a tendency of being uninhabitable afterwards.
The Dumbledore clearly expected them, for the Gargoyle guarding his office immediately jumped aside when they approached, and the door was already open when they ascended the staircase. Dumbledore wasn't alone, though: Minerva, a good friend of Dorea back during their Hogwarts days, was there, as were Aurors Nick Proudfoot and Alastor Moody, the latter now walking on a peg-leg and a staff. They all stood in front of Dumbledore at the man's desk, all looking at a map. He must really want their cooperation, for the overly-controlling coot didn't even roll up the map as they approached.
"Please tell me you already have people looking for them," Deckard angrily demanded. "Or so help me, I'll tear up every magical location in Europe until I find my daughter."
"All that'll do is get you killed, Bones," Moody groused, though his tone was less harsh than usual. He then turned his head to Shacklebolt, the last one entering. "We've already sent out to what remains of the Aurors, Ma'am Shacklebolt, as well as informed the Minister of the situation. She'll do everything she can to get them back."
Charlus sincerely doubted this. Bagnold might know a bit about handling the public, but she was just as corrupt as that fool from Magical Maintenance, Cornelius Fudge. If a Death Eater bought her off to not look too closely at the kidnappings, nothing would happen from the ministry's end.
"And by the time they find her, she'll be six feet under." Seraphina waspishly retorted. "That's my niece at stake, Moody!"
"As well as my younger son and Potter's," Hector added, showing his own anger and dismay that this had happened practically right under Dumbledore's nose. His office had a window view of the village and the road to it, for Merlin's sake. "I sincerely hope for your sake you can offer more than weak assurances, Alastor."
"Let's not get into a fight here." Dumbledore interjected before Moody could get into a fight he couldn't win with the Bones twins and Hector. "We do have a few facts." He turned to Charlus. "We know for certain that Dolohov was involved, as young James himself, as well as Professor Clarke, managed to identify him and Tyranus Pyrites before they took younger Misters Potter, Longbottom, and Ms Bones."
"Any other leads?" Shacklebolt asked before things could get out of hand, and Charlus sent her a silent thank you look. Out of all of them, Anamaria was the most impartial, and at the moment the most level-headed. She'd never met any of the children before, and at the moment could act as an Auror without any stakes, something Proudfoot and Moody (suspected and confirmed members of the Order of the Phoenix, respectively) couldn't do. Neither could Hector, Deckard, or Seraphina, each of whom had Auror experience. Since it was their children's lives on the line they sure as hell couldn't act impartially. It was only the fact that as the head of the alliance (alongside Arcturus) he had to appear levelheaded and controlled (even if he wasn't) that kept him from shouting at Dumbledore at the moment despite his rage.
Of course, that didn't mean he couldn't make his anger known in other ways. "Considering his excellent job of protecting the students, I sincerely doubt he has found anything."
"I shall have you know, Baron Potter," Dumbledore responded with a frown, "that there are traces of various chemicals on the carriage and the place it was blasted from. My suspicion would be that the carriage was coated in one chemical that was meant to respond to another, likely coated at the site of the accident, in a violent and concussive manner. The fact there was only a small explosion and very little charring on the carriage itself, and yet the carriage was blasted half a kilometre away and a lot of structural damage to the interior supports this."
"All well and good, Dumbledore," Arcturus retorted. "But none of this conjecture points us to where the children have been taken, does it?"
Dumbledore gave him a long, hard stare, and Arcturus stared right back. Were it not for the fact Arcturus was a well-known master of Occlumency, Charlus would've started to think Dumbledore was invading the man's mind they were staring so hard. Finally, though, the Hogwarts Headmaster relented.
"Would everyone except Alastor and the Barons please leave this room?" he asked. "I need to impart information of a sensitive nature that only very few may hear." He gave a hard stare at the other Aurors and the Headmaster portraits. The latter nodded respectfully and left their frames to head for the others, while the Aurors nodded in understanding and headed for the door. The others looked reluctant to leave, either because they wanted to rant some more at Dumbledore or to listen in on the information, but they all left as well, Hector sending a glare before he closed the door behind him and Minerva.
Dumbledore spoke as soon as the latch clicked. "Now, as Chief Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, and Headmaster of Hogwarts, I can't officially tell you anything. It would be my duty to warn you against taking reprising actions against families suspected to be aligned with Lord Voldemort." All others in the room still subconsciously flinched despite their efforts not to. "It could lead to extensive sanctions against the Great Alliance by the Ministry if you did."
"You think we care?" Arcturus demanded, his own anger coming to the surface. He swung the cane he'd taken to carrying around onto the table, and it made a resounding thud on the desk as it landed in a small gap between the dozens of parchment pieces lying there. "You think we-"
"Unofficially," Dumbledore continued, silencing Arcturus. "As leader of the Order of the Phoenix, I can offer a few hints in the right direction."
"Hints?" Charlus asked angrily. The old man was expecting them to find out about where Harry was with HINTS?! They might as well sign their lives over to Voldemort right now!
"As you yourself have stated many times, Charlus, I am not omniscient." Dumbledore retorted angrily, losing his composure. "I wish I could offer more, but the members of the order are few and occupied, and my informant was lucky to overhear this at all in the first place."
Charlus sighed, realising the man had a point. "All right. Let's hear it."
Dumbledore nodded, and drew their attention back to one of the pieces of parchment on the map, coincidentally right next to where the cane had landed earlier. It was a map of England's eastern region. A town called Little Hangleton was encircled. "This town's richest family used to be the Riddle family," Dumbledore explained, and the Barons shared knowing glances. "They had a Manor on the outskirts of the town. Its occupants were murdered many years ago, but I suspect Lord Voldemort," again an involuntary flinch from Moody, Arcturus, and Charlus, "has been using it as a base of operations."
"You're sure?" Arcturus asked. "For all we know it could be a wild goose chase."
"We're quite certain," Moody confirmed. "We, that is Dumbledore and I, suspect the Death Eaters are using it as such a base because of how many pass through that place every few hours. Tracking charms dissolve upon entering it, and there have been quite a few Dementor sightings nearby." Dumbledore gained a slight twinkle in his eye as this was said. "Also, the fact we cannot confirm this suspicion aloud lends proof to my theory."
Charlus frowned, trying to say all these clues all but confirmed the place was their Headquarters. To his surprise, though, he found he couldn't. And when he realised he couldn't form the words, he realised why. The same reason few people now knew the Great Alliance regularly gathered in Potter Manor, and why only Harry could say Ron and Ginny's real names out loud.
A Fidelius. Clever.
Arcturus spoke up, his expression showing he'd followed the same line of thought. "I see. And you want us, the Great Alliance, to do your dirty work for you." Like with Grindelwald's armies Charlus heard him think silently.
"I wish I could go there myself, Baron Black," Dumbledore said, incensed. "But unlike some in this room, I do not have relatives already in place, or a ready-made army willing to follow me into that place. My Order doesn't have as many members as your Alliance has, and most of them aren't trained to fight, and would only be a hindrance."
Arcturus growled at the sour subject of his relatives in Voldemort's ranks and made to raise his wand, but Charlus stopped him with a single look. He then turned it to Dumbledore. "Thank you for this information, Dumbledore. We'll be sure to put it to good use."
Dumbledore nodded, and with a single gesture the door reopened. "You're welcome, Barons Potter and Black. I hope you find the children alive and mostly unharmed."
"So do we," Charlus said. "Good day, Headmaster." And with that, he forced Arcturus out the door and closed it behind him.
"Why did you stop me?" Arcturus demanded as they descended the stairs, the cane loudly hitting each step as they descended the stairs. "He deserved to be hexed and you know it."
"At that moment all it would've done was satisfy your lust for his blood," Charlus explained, as they reached the bottom where everyone (minus Proudfoot and Minerva) was waiting for them. "It wouldn't do to hex the Hogwarts headmaster in his own office after he just offered us the possible location of the children."
"Where!?" Hector and Deckard all but demanded at the same time.
Before Charlus could answer, a bit of silver light caught his eye, and he turned around to look at it. A silver raven flew down through an open window, and landed in the middle of the small gathering that had formed at the bottom of the stairs. It opened its beak and spoke resonantly so all present could hear it.
"Potter and cohorts are at Riddle Manor in Little Hangleton, the original Manor dungeons," the raven spoke with the voice of Arcturus's granddaughter, Bellatrix. "You-Know-Who's base of operations. Dozens of followers present, including about a dozen Dementors, Dolohov, Pyrites, and Greyback. If attacking, ignore Manor itself: a death trap filled with followers, nothing of value. Head to lower levels for Bones, Longbottom, and Potter." The Patronus paused, as if unsure what else to tell. "After this, I'm done with this mission. Can't stand much more."
With its message delivered, the bright raven dissolved into a cloudy mist, before that dissipated, too. Charlus turned resolutely to the others. It was time to take charge. They had children to rescue.
"Anamaria, Fleamont: gather as many people as you can in the next five hours. Both Bones: gather as many brooms for them as you can provide. High quality if possible, but don't discriminate against lower quality if that's what's available. Hector, Hyperion: head for Little Hangleton Town Hall and get copies of the old blueprints of the manor. At eighteen twenty Arcturus and I will will have a briefing for you, and we'll head out an hour after that."
Everyone nodded, and those not assigned a mission followed Charlus and Arcturus while they strode out, and the others all headed their own ways to prepare for their mission. While they walked, plans were already forming in his head on how he was going to assault Riddle Manor. He smirked in reminiscence. With the many similarities, he couldn't help but think it was the war with Grindelwald all over again. And he'd won that one, too.
Riddle Manor, Little Hangleton, England
Harry grunted, as he was thrown to the ground in front of Voldemort the next morning. He didn't land as hard as he could've, thanks to his miraculously healed wounds, but his chest still hurt upon landing, and he had to wheeze a few times before he could get up again. He looked to his right, and saw Neville land right beside him. Another thud to his left indicated Amelia had landed as well. As was the case yesterday (at least he'd been told it had been yesterday), he was in the large hall occupied by dozens of Death Eater followers. He grimaced as he looked at the crowd again. It must've been full moon, for despite the extremely early morning there were quite a few werewolves still turned in the crowd, only held back by stasis charms or body-binds. And even those were glaring at him. They were led by a very large and dominant one the size of a bear, which Harry presumed to be Greyback.
"Ah, Harry," Voldemort spoke, drawing Harry's attention back to the throne. "How happy to see you've made it."
"Not like I had a choice," Harry spat, making Voldemort chuckle.
"No," Voldemort agreed. "You don't have a choice. Yesterday I granted you a small reprieve from interrogation for revealing some of the information you have. But now, with a new day, we shall begin anew."
Harry grimaced, knowing what was coming. Voldemort gestured with his hand and lifted his body up, magically pinning his head so Harry was forced to look him in the eye. Instantly, he felt the forced pressure of Legilimency in his head. He tried to keep the blackness he'd restored only just this morning, and desperately tried to cover up the openings Voldemort tried to create. But Voldemort had been a master Legilimens for decades, proficient in the art at the age of fifteen, while Harry had only three or four months of real practice. It was only a matter of time before Voldemort broke through. And so, like yesterday, Voldemort broke through, and had instant access to his memories. He immediately began searching for anything of value.
Harry immediately tried stuffing useless memories in Voldemort's face. Harry at age seven rifling through Petunia and Vernon's papers, him and Ron playing Wizard's chess at the Burrow, the twins pulling another fantastic prank on Percy, the only time he'd had a visit to Hermione's parents when Petunia forced him and Dudley to go to the dentists, and them picking the Granger/Beckett clinic, them walking towards the Portkey to the Quidditch World Cup...
But still, Voldemort was once again faster one time. And once again, Harry seriously dreaded him finding this one. Him and Amelia, talking together at the party after Gryffindor won from Slytherin, after she showed up a few minutes later with her brother. Her, telling him how she looked forward to their meeting at Hogsmeade, and them laughing and relaxing together the more the night wore on. It immediately shifted again, to another he didn't want Voldemort to find. The partial memory of the chamber, from Voldemort arriving in the Chamber to him cursing the Basilisk... Including the first of the two spells.
Voldemort pulled back out once more, but instead of shock, seemed truly dismayed and angered. "How did you get that memory, boy?!" he demanded, and the nearest of Death Eaters immediately flinched back a few steps against his tone. "I was the only one there, boy! How did you get it?!"
Harry chuckled, looking Voldemort right in the eye again. "You're the oh-so-powerful one. and yet you're asking me?" When Voldemort continued glaring at him in anger, for a moment too caught up in it to respond, he continued the taunt. "I'll tell you only this: for years, your mind wasn't your own as much as you'd like to think," Harry taunted, thinking of the many visions and pains he'd had because of the Horcrux in his head. Voldemort snarled, and raised his wand to curse again. When he smirked.
Harry's stomach dropped, and although he kept a neutral expression, his heart started beating as if it was running a car. Harry had seen him smirk like that only a handful of times before, nearly all of them in this new time... And all of those only when he got a new idea on how to torture Harry. It was a predatory smirk, like a lunatic who'd just heard the most insane joke of his life.
"Amycus, retrieve their wands for me." Lord Voldemort commanded. The Death Eater in question immediately made his way to the exit. But another stepped forward and immediately voiced concerns. "But, my Lord... Is it truly wise to give them their wands? They could-"
Lord Voldemort immediately turned to the Death Eater, and he immediately silenced himself falling to his knees and bowing down. And although his expression wasn't visible to Harry from this angle, he knew from the tone of voice that followed it was angry.
"Do you really think they could harm me, Harper? Me, Lord Voldemort, Leader of the Death Eater armies? The Heir of Salazar Slytherin himself? The conqueror of the Wraiths of Albania? The Master of Dementors? Sole inheritor of the Founder's legacy?!"
"My Lord," The Death Eater began to beg. "I meant no-"
"AVADA KEDAVRA!" Voldemort yelled, and one large green flash later the Death Eater was dead at Voldemort's feet. Voldemort gave a simple flick of his wand, and the body was thrown to the Werewolf pack, who immediately were let go to tear it to pieces. He turned back to Harry, as Amycus came walking back in with seven wands in hand, which he laid at Lord Voldemort's feet before he returned back to the circle of Death Eaters. As soon as he did, he felt the enchantments that kept him like that dispel, and he fell down. Amelia and Neville were likewise freed, and all three scrambled to retrieve their wands. Harry instantly pocketed those of the future Mulciber and Nott, before levelling his own at Voldemort.
"Now, Harry." He said calmly, as if he was starting a conversation at a picnic instead of just having killed someone and thrown his body to a pack of savage beasts. "Since you enjoyed that memory so much..." He said with a smile that Harry knew meant there was big trouble ahead, "I think you should have a taste." Voldemort levelled his wand, and Harry bent his knees, ready to dodge at a moment's notice.
Only for the wand to immediately move to Harry's left, before he heard Voldemort whisper a single curse. One that left Harry's blood running cold.
"Insaniam Convertunt." Voldemort said clearly, as the spell flew to Amelia and hit her in the chest before she could move.
Harry's eyes widened in horror as Amelia grabbed her head in pain, and she fell to her knees while screaming her lungs out. Harry immediately took a few hesitant steps forward.
"Fight it, Amelia," he urged her, knowing it was his only shot at getting through to her. "You can resist this."
Voldemort cackled happily. "It's no use, Potter. Once under the curse she'll only respond to me." Voldemort grinned when Amelia finally stopped grunting in pain, and let her head go as she rose to her feet. Harry paled at the blank look in her eyes: there was no emotion there whatsoever. She didn't seem to recognise him as she looked at him.
The curse had taken full effect.
"Now, Potter, you must choose." Voldemort grinned. "Live, at the cost of killing the girl you love. Or die, and let her strike you down. All while your friend is forced to watch on."
"Harry?" Neville whispered nervously. "What's he- UGH!" That was as far as he got before Karkaroff punched him in the stomach, then he was put under a body-bind curse and dragged to the sidelines, forced to merely watch the upcoming event instead of helping either side.
"Amelia Bones," Voldemort spoke with a commanding voice, and Harry immediately backed away and took some distance, knowing it was useless to reason with her now. Instead, as most of his mind focused on the memory of the basilisk being turned insane. He knew that in the same conversation Insaniam Convertunt was mentioned, the counter curse was mentioned too. Something only cast in Parseltongue. But what was it?
"...kill Harry Potter." Voldemort finished his command. "And make him suffer while you do so."
Amelia wasted no time. Immediately she sprang into action, casting multiple unknown brown-coloured curses which Harry immediately rolled out of the way of. Next he cast a shield, as a bone-breaking curse almost hit his face. Come on, what was the curse?
His eyes widened, as she next whispered the killing curse, and he stood frozen in fear for a moment as he saw a green light emerge from the wand. Then, the scenery changed before his eyes, and he wasn't in the halls of Voldemort's lair, with Neville at his side. Instead, all he saw was the Graveyard. Wormtail, with his new silver hand. Lucius Malfoy and the remaining Death Eaters, laughing and cackling on as their master fought Harry. Voldemort, casting another Killing curse at Harry over his father's grave.
And Cedric.
The pale, empty eyes of Cedric staring up at him, as his dead body lay at Harry's feet.
Kill the spare. The words kept echoing in his head. Kill the spare. Kill the spare. Kill the spare.
Harry fell down, dodging the killing curse at the last second, and rolling aside as another was cast at him. And another. And another. Finally he scampered to his feet, and instinctively conjured a brick wall a bare foot in front of the curse. The curse hit the wall instead, shattering it and covering his opponent in debris.
The pain of the memory was too much for him, and overrode all rational thought. Cedric was dead because of him. His parents were dead because they'd sacrificed themselves for him. His friends had been endangered at the Ministry because of him. All because they trusted him, needed to protect him with their lives. From that Monster!
Harry launched another stunner, his heart racing as he for all intents and purposes relived his worst nightmare, only with a larger spell repertoire. But Voldemort rolled out of the way, scraping his back over the rocks from the destroyed wall. Harry didn't waste his time, and cast an exploding curse at his feet. Voldemort didn't shield or dodge in time, and was sent flying. He landed with a thud and he didn't get up.
Yet somehow, he still spoke. "Yes, Harry. That's it. Kill her."
"Harry!" Neville's voice echoed, despite the fact he was not supposed to be there, as he was in the stands watching the third task. "Whatever spell you're under, get rid of it! It's messing with your mind!"
Harry shook his head, despite the screaming from Neville that followed. He knew he could trust Neville's voice. He'd always stood by Harry's side, no matter what. He didn't join the crowd when they denounced him as Slytherin's heir. He had the decency not to whisper about facts like Sirius being his godfather and a betrayer behind Harry's back when Sirius had just broken out of Azkaban. He believed Harry instantly when he said he didn't put his name in the goblet of fire, and didn't wear one of those badges Malfoy kept handing out. He was one of the first to sign up for the DA, and always trained the hardest, especially after he heard Bellatrix Lestrange had broken out of Azkaban. He was one of five that followed Harry into the ministry to rescue Sirius, the only one to do so without question, and he didn't even know what was going on. Hell, for all he knew Sirius was still a wanted man and the betrayer of the Potters!
Harry realised with a start that Neville was just as good a friend as Ron and Hermione. A better one even, considering Ron had basically left him to rot between his name coming out of the goblet and the first task, or Hermione ignoring them after that incident with the Firebolt and Scabbers. Neville, despite the fact Harry was a crappy friend, had never stopped being there for Harry.
And with that realisation, the scenery turned back. He wasn't in the graveyard, but in an underground hall. Cedric didn't lay at his dead feet, but Neville was being held up by Karkaroff and another, blood leaking from a split lip. Wormtail was instead Voldemort, watching from a distance as Harry had duelled.
And the Voldemort on the ground was the unconscious form of Amelia Bones.
"This is a fun one, Insaniam Convertunt." The memory of a young Voldemort's voice echoed in his head. "It drives the victim insane."
Harry calmly strode over to Amelia, and Neville, Voldemort, and the crowd watched, all of them interested in what Harry would do.
"Not to the point they lose their minds, however. It merely robs them of their free will and identity."
Harry arrived at her body, and gently tapped her body with his toes. She was still unconscious. He felt a slight pain starting in his chest, the adrenaline from the duel and the stress of the situation flooding away to be replaced by the pain of broken ribs.
"You can still act independently, but you will no longer have any wishes and desires of your own, forever doomed to obey the orders of others."
Harry raised his wand at her, and Voldemort grinned. Neville shouted out in horror. "NOOOO! Harry, don't do this!"
"And the only known counter, Mens Videre Receptos, can only be spoken in Parseltongue."
"Mens Videre Receptos." Harry said in perfect Parseltongue, and a white curse sailed from his wand, to hit Amelia on her head. She immediately regained consciousness, her eyes shooting up to stare at him. He held his breath, hoping it had worked.
Amelia, slowly and shaking, got to her feet, her wand still in hand. Harry risked a glance at Voldemort, who was no longer smiling.
Before anyone could act, though, there was a loud crack that sounded very similar to a blast of Vinnie's fireworks going off close by, or thunder hitting the ground right next to you: near deafening. Voldemort immediately looked up.
"The Wardstone has been broken," Voldemort whispered. He immediately put Harry, Amelia, and Neville in body-binds and turned to the crowd, giving orders. "Carrows, guard them with your lives. Everyone else, head upstairs with me, and find out what this disturbance is. NOW!"
The crowd hastened to reply, and they all scampered to the exit at the back. Voldemort himself had gotten barely three steps, though, before the ground shook as if hit by a massive earthquake, and everyone fell to the ground. Harry would have hissed once more if he didn't have a body-bind, as his ribs hit the stone ground quite hard.
"Potter!" A loud yet slightly muffled voice called from upstairs as everyone got up from the ground, the unknown Death Eater's voice amplified by a very strong Sonorous. "Black! Lay down your wands and surrender!"
For a moment no one moved in the silence, and one could hear a pin drop. Then, an ear-splitting scream so loud and filled with agony Harry almost retched into his mouth on the spot echoed throughout the halls.
"DEATH EATERS!" His grandfa- no, his father's voice answered in a loud yell. "COME AND GET THEM!"
That was answered by more shouts from above, and Harry worried as they seemed to be in the dozens. But they almost immediately turned into screams, first one, then another, then another, then four more... All turned into death throes.
Voldemort snarled. "My orders haven't changed."
The others in the room immediately continued and hurried up the stairs, eager to comply and get their own piece of Potter.
Until in the end, only Harry, Neville, Amelia, and the Carrows were left in the large hall with the throne. One of them conjured a stone pillar, and leaned against it as he watched them, while the other moved to guard the exit, their backs turned to one another.
Harry didn't know how long they stood there; from his senses it could've been hours as well as minutes, time marked only occasionally by the shouts from outside and the rumbles that shook the manor and its foundations and lower levels. But after a while one of the Carrows spoke up. "What are you doing here, Les-"
That was as far as the woman got before a choking sound was heard. The other Carrow turned around in concern, and almost immediately hurried to his sister. Harry heard him immediately attempt to shout out a Cruciatus curse, but barely got past the first U before he was flung backwards at the speed of a firebolt, breaking through the pillar and the stone throne before impacting against the stone wall, leaving nothing but a large bloody spot on it with a few mangled splintered bones sticking out here and there.
A second later the body-bind was lifted. Harry immediately scrambled to get up, and Amelia did likewise, helping Neville to his feet shortly after. Harry turned around, about to thank his rescuer.
And raised his wand with a hateful look, as Bellatrix Lestrange stood in front of him. Amelia covered his flank almost instantly.
To his shock, though, it was Neville who stood between them and her.
"Harry, don't!" he urged. "She's the one who healed most of our wounds last night. She gave a vow to help us. She can be trusted not to harm us." Harry heard the unsaid as much as I hate to acknowledge it that was in his voice and expression. Still, Harry knew he trusted Neville with his life, especially after that realisation how often he was there for Harry and Harry didn't see it. And besides, the woman had practically tortured Neville's parents into insanity, so if he defended her there had to be a very good reason for it. He lowered his wand, and pushed Amelia's down as well, trusting Neville's judgement.
That didn't mean he trusted her, though. "Betray us, and I'll kill you," he snarled. He remembered very vividly that she'd tortured Neville's parents into insanity at one point, and had taunted him about his godfather in a sickening way.
Bellatrix, in contrast to the seriousness of the threat, simply shrugged. "Get in line. After this every Death Eater will be out to kill me anyway."
Harry nodded, and gestured to the exit. "Lead the way."
Bellatrix nodded, but instead went to the back of the room. "Voldemort had multiple hideout chambers and hidden emergency exits built in these catacombs, just in case someone managed to breach the lower levels of the catacombs." She reached the back wall, and pressed the bricks next to the splatter that was one of the Carrows in quick succession. "All of them will lead right outside."
"Into the battlefield," Amelia noted, as they all followed her. After a few moments, that section of the wall pulled back slightly and lifted into the ceiling, revealing a previously hidden tunnel right next to the splatter. They all headed in, Harry ensuring he'd be last.
"Yes," Bellatrix admitted. "But most of the anti-apparation and anti-portkey wards went down when something destroyed the manor's central Wardstone. All that are left are hastily erected and improvised wards created by the perimeter guards. If we can get out of and away from the manor far enough I can Portkey us out to Black Manor at the border between Ireland and Northern Ireland."
Harry nodded in consent, and she led them down the tunnel, which actually started to curve upwards. Fortunately, they met little resistance, and only had to stop once when a section collapsed right behind them.
It wasn't long until they arrived at a large circular chamber, with a round door with light leaking through being the only way out.
"That leads to a side road into Little Hangleton." Bellatrix said. "We can safely portkey to the manor from there."
Harry nodded, and hesitantly made a few steps forward.
And immediately ducked to the side as a curse sailed towards him. The other three also jumped to the side, and Amelia and Bellatrix each conjured pieces of cover to hide behind for them. Harry crouched down next to Amelia, while Neville scampered to rest beside Bellatrix two dozen meters away. Harry peeked over his cover, eying the exit.
From niches in the ceiling he'd missed when inspecting the chamber six Death Eaters jumped down, four in full regalia, two in ministry robes. He recognised one of them, to his loathing, as Barty Crouch Junior.
Harry got up alongside Amelia, both of them launching hexes at them. Three of them, the other in ministry robes and two Death Eaters, parted from their comrades to duel them, while the remainder headed straight for Bellatrix.
Five seconds later
Neville ducked under a Cruciatus, and launched a retaliatory attack in response. The Piercing hex missed, though, and only tore out a chunk of the wall. The next curse Neville sent, through, had some good effect. The Flipendo floored him, and the mask was sent flying.
Neville paled as he recognised Rabastan Lestrange. And beside him came Barty Crouch, who began teaming up to take him down. Neville's movements became more hurried, his shields faltering the more they hexed. Try as Neville might, the two were much more experienced than him, and quite a bit faster.
A hex hit him on his cheek, and he screamed as he fell down, the right side of his face flaming in pain. Before he could recover he was rolled onto his back, and he went cross-eyed as he saw a wand pointed right between them.
"Goodbye, little shit," Barty said, and the tip of his wand glowed green as he prepared to cast a killing curse, Rabastan smirking in the background.
Someone crashed into Barty, and he and Rabastan went down as their assailant hit him as well. The assailant immediately rolled to her feet, revealing herself to be...
Neville shook his head in shock, despite the pain. No way. It couldn't be. There was no way in hell Bellatrix Lestrange, the same woman Lady Dorea Potter had killed, had saved his life. Yet it was that way, despite all appearances, as she began to duel an unmasked Rabastan and Rudolphus as well as Barty. And he also saw she deliberately kept herself between Neville and the three Death Eaters.
He stared for a moment in shock, as one of his childhood tormentors defended him against the remaining three, her wand lightning-fast as it sent curse after curse at them, deliberately not dodging and only shielding so a stray miss wouldn't accidentally hit Neville.
Bellatrix Lestrange was fighting for her life to defend Neville Longbottom, who not four months ago had tormented Neville with her mock-baby voice about the fate of his parents.
He realised now they weren't the same, this woman in front of him and the one that had tortured his parents The woman who'd tortured them into insanity would take every chance she got to take Neville down, and would mock him for what had happened to his parents. Yet this woman was kind and caring, and fought at risk of her own life to defend a stranger.
The former Neville would kill in a heartbeat. The latter Neville thought should be worthy of being defended to his last breath, regardless of past mistakes.
while a curse finally broke through her shield and upended her, sending her wand flying, he turned into his Animagus wolf form (the time it took to transform having greatly decreased since his first full moon with Remus due to frequent practice at night) and attacked the closest, who happened to be Rabastan. The man looked up in surprise, as open jaws sailed to his face. Neville bit down, and Rabastan screamed as Neville's teeth found the man's shoulder. Neville tasted blood, and bit down even harder. He let go and turned back almost instantly, dodging a curse from Rudolphus. He sent a stunner at both him and Barty Crouch, forcing both of them to dodge, while grabbing Bellatrix's wand from the ground and tossed it to her as she got up, which she caught instantly. After a moment of consideration he also tossed her the future Bellatrix' wand, which she also caught, while Neville stole the shocked Rabastan's wand to replace it.
Rabastan, still in pain and shock at having a wolf tear his shoulder apart, didn't react, and Neville sent a piercing hex at the man's heart, like he'd done with him in Potter Manor. Rabastan's eyes widened, and Neville grabbed him by his collar and dragged him so they looked one another in the eye.
"That was for my parents, you son of a bitch," Neville snarled, before tossing him to the ground. The man continued to lay there, letting out one final breath before expiring. Neville turned, and was happy to see Bellatrix had the other Lestrange brother and Barty already on the ropes, Barty bleeding heavily from a cut on his arm while Rudolphus' leg was bent at such an angle that left no doubt it was broken as he was supported by his comrade.
Neville helped Bellatrix as she cast with both her wands, and was briefly startled to see she wielded both of them in her right hand, rather than one in each. His confusion ended when she spoke the incantation of Reducto, and two spells launched, both hitting Barty's wand arm. He screamed, as his arm was literally pulverised below the elbow. Neville sent another piercing hex at him, but Barty fell down in pain, hitting his head and falling unconscious. Rudolphus, losing his support, also fell, and Bellatrix stunned him before he could perform another curse. Neville turned around to help Harry and Bones, as they were dealing with the remaining three, but it wasn't necessary. Two of them were stunned and tied up against each other's backs, and the third was already being dealt with, Harry and Bones actually teaming up in physically beating the corrupt ministry official to a pulp. In the end, Harry lifted the man up, while Bones cast a very strong banishing charm, which sent him flying back into his niche. A Reducto from both Harry and Bones made it collapse onto him, burying him alive.
Bellatrix's chest heaved a bit from the exertion, but otherwise she seemed all right. He made a brief inspection of himself, but aside from the burn wound blistering on his cheek he was all right as well. Harry and Bones likewise seemed more or less in one piece. Harry immediately clutched his sides, though, and he wheezed a bit as he leaned against the wall and sank to the ground. Bones was immediately by his side in concern.
"Harry!" she said in a high voice which spoke of her fear. "You all right?"
"Ribs," he wheezed. Bellatrix immediately understood, and performed a diagnostic charm before swearing.
"Step aside," she ordered. "I need space to heal him."
Bones reluctantly took some distance, and Bellatrix set to work, casting spells almost immediately. Harry immediately gasped in pain, and Bones went directly for her wand. Neville stopped her, though, just as Bellatrix conjured some bandages. Harry's pained look instantly lifted as well.
"Thanks," Harry managed, and was helped to his feet by Bellatrix.
"That should hold you until you can see a proper healer," Bellatrix reassured. "It's the best I can manage without risking your inner organs."
"It'll do," Neville said for Harry. "Thank you."
Bellatrix glowed under the praise, but her face soon turned solemn. "That won't be the last of them. We need to keep moving."
They all nodded in agreement, and Neville opened the door with a silent Alohomora. They all moved through it. Only for them to stop instantly.
A massive battle was raging outside in the early morning in the full moon, dawn yet to arrive. The manor, now partly ablaze, could be seen right before them, and hexes were thrown at it by people in front of it, and spellfire was returned from the upper windows. The werewolves were all battling with large groups of armoured men with spears and swords, the wolves too close for good wand work. Greyback's werewolf form itself was fighting a large, black bear that was just as large as it, both of them covered in large cuts and claw marks. A dozen silver glows floated around the battlefield and the Manor, keeping the Dementors away. In the air, dozens of brooms flew around one another as they duelled, with the exception of a small group who were strafing the Death Eaters with large fire spells or circling the Manor and dousing all floors in the same flames as the Manor was consumed.
But before them all, staring down hatefully at the foursome as he blocked their exit to Little Hangleton, was Voldemort.
Front gate, Riddle property, Little Hangleton, England
Thirty minutes earlier
"You know, this is a risky and stupid plan," Hyperion voiced his concern, and Charlus sighed again. Hyperion had a point, of course. Full moon was tonight, and truly turned werewolves were dangerous. He'd spent enough nights with his son's friend Remus to know that. But it also provided an advantage, for what those wolves gained in strength they lost in intelligence and cohesion with the rest of Voldemort's forces.
"It's a risk, regardless," Charlus said, as the core members of the alliance walked up to the front gate, except for the Twin Terrors, who were further back on brooms, ready to go at a moment's notice. The rest of the alliance's non-broomriders, about forty members in total led by Shacklebolt, were spread around the manor, surrounding the grounds so very few could escape them. "If we're not facing the werewolves, we're facing an additional number of wands. Personally, I favour facing the wolves. At least they can only attack up close."
"Agreed," Arcturus said, and that silenced any protest. Whenever the pair of Barons agreed on an approach, none could dissuade them from it.
They were at the gates now, and all prepared for the approach. All of them wore either masks or pieces of thick cloth to cover their faces, as minor protection against dust or shrapnel from explosions. Hyperion and Fleamont, both skilful potions masters, had multiple bandoleers lined with flasks of exploding potion, ready to throw them at a moment's notice. Hector hefted the stone Seraphina had enchanted, the stone that would cause nearly every single ward to collapse when thrown into them. Arcturus grinned, and Charlus massaged his scalp as Arcturus banged on the gate as if it was made of six foot thick steel instead of bars thinner than James's fingers.
The response was instantaneous: six Death Eaters apparated in on the other side, and hurried to check who the visitors were. "State your business, or we will be forced to banish you from the property," the leader said. Eastern Ukrainian, judging by how they pronounced the W, despite their proper English.
"We're here to burn the house down, and kill every single one of you lot," Arcturus said; Charlus smirked. So far, the delaying tactic was working beautifully: by now, nearly all of the Flyers would be in position to bombard the grounds when the wards fell, and the ground forces were already in position. A shame they couldn't bring in some enchanted muggle armoured tanks to truly demolish the manor, but that couldn't be arranged at such short notice.
"Then you are fools," the leader said. "Do you have any idea how many Death Eaters there are in here?"
"Twelve," Arcturus said promptly, before laying a bit of mock-eagerness into his voice. "No, wait! Thirteen!"
Hector snorted. "Nice one, old man."
Arcturus chuckled. "What can I say? It takes some serious effort to be properly irreverent at my age."
Charlus internally sighed at their banter, but narrowed his eyes at a Death Eater who was eying him. Then his eyes widened in recognition.
A heavily tortured, mutilated, and mind-raped – yet still walking – Randolph Lestrange. Randolph recognised him in the same instant, for he tried to turn back to call an alarm.
Hector took this as his cue to throw the enchanted stone. Charlus crossed his fingers, hoping Seraphina's enchanting skills were still up to her usual quality.
There was a shimmer, as the stone seemingly hit a dome covering the property. But the dome then shattered like glass, and the stone continued its path. On and on it went, until nearly all the wards were disabled, when the stone finally hit the ground a few feet short of the manor.
The Death Eaters scrambled to try and attack the Rascals, raising their wands hurriedly. But they never stood a chance. Hyperion and Fleamont both threw a pair of Exploding Potions each over the gate, which impacted right in the middle of them. The explosion blasted most of the Death Eaters a good few dozen meters away in various directions as the flasks landed and shattered, and the gates were basically blasted off the ground, only prevented from hitting the group by a pair of banishing charms from Hector and Charlus that sent them flying overhead instead. It also levelled whatever wall that remained to guard the property, and promptly awakened most Death Eaters.
It also served as Deckard and Seraphina's signal.
In the distance, near the Manor's front doors, Randolph got to his shaking feet. He tapped his wand to his throat before shouting. "Potter! Black! Lay down your wands and surrender!"
Arcturus snarled, and conjured a large, silver javelin, which he banished straight at Randolph. It hit as if it were launched from a harpoon gun, and pinned him straight through his heart before leaving his body again, keeping it pinned and suspended.
"DEATH EATERS!" Charlus shouted, and they all raised their wands (or in Arcturus and Hyperion's case, their canes as well). All around the property, members of the Great Alliance got up from their hiding places and did likewise. "COME AND GET THEM!"
For a moment there was dead silence. Then, dozens of brooms from all directions flew over Charlus's head, and made several strafing runs over the property. Half of them sent down massive Incendio (or in case of the darker families of the alliance, low-powered non-self-sustaining Fiendfyres) at the lands and manor, while the other half sent Confringos and Expulsos at the manor itself.
Immediately the doors burst open, and Death Eaters and their followers began to burst out to attack them.
They could've been sensible, of course. They could've properly planned this, found a way to sneak into the Manor and meet up with Bellatrix, get the children and any other prisoners, and gotten out without anyone being the wiser.
Were it not for one simple thing: after the breakout, they were never going to catch this many Death Eaters in the same spot again, and Charlus and Arcturus wanted to make the most of it.
The Rascals charged ahead, met up halfway by Shacklebolt and Lana Shafiq, the latter a charms mistress and former apprentice of duelling champion Filius Flitwick. Each of them was a very skilled warrior.
The two large groups both met each other halfway across the grounds, and Charlus wasted no time. He conjured a trio of javelins and sent them to a trio of Death Eaters trying to sneak up on his flank. He immediately turned to his right, and grabbed a small werewolf by the throat as it tried to jump him. He threw it aside, handling the weight easily with the strengthening potion and elixir of endurance taken before the battle, and sent a Reducto at its throat, tearing it to pieces.
Charlus fought his way through the battlefield in such a manner, tearing through the Death Eater ranks. Hector and Fleamont were right by his side, while Hyperion and Hector were covering their rear with Shacklebolt. So far they only had the low and mid level Death Eaters to deal with, but very few of real strength or importance. No one on Dolohov, Karkaroff or Pyrites' level.
They managed to fight their way to the front doors, as they planned to head inside, needing to stem the tide while most of the recruits still needed to pass through the bottleneck of the front doors. While Charlus liked to think the Great Alliance would win because of quality, rather than letting the Death Eaters win through quantity, he knew it would devastate their ranks if they didn't eliminate most of them while they were still in the manor, or at least trapped them inside.
"Stay clear of the door," Fleamont ordered, as they approached the front porch, from which Death Eaters were still pouring out. Charlus shook his head in exasperation as he saw why: Fleamont had another Exploding Potion in hand.
"Hey, bastards!" Fleamont called, drawing the attention of most of them. "Knock knock!" He threw the potion. The sensible Death Eaters immediately tried to scramble back inside to get to cover. But it was no use: the potion landed right on the threshold, and the Potter brothers hid behind one vase beside the porch as the flame swept past them, Charlus' teeth trembling from the concussion of the blast.
He dived over the vase as soon as the flames cleared, darting inside with Arcturus right on his heels as they ran over the still-smouldering corpses, and the others not far behind. Hyperion, the last one in, immediately threw another exploding potion at the top of the doorway, and as they ran up the stairs to Death Eater quarters it collapsed behind them, sealing the only known entrance and trapping the Death Eaters inside with them.
A reasonable man would argue they were trapped with the Death Eaters: after all, they were only five old men all above their fifties, heading into a building with dozens of younger men and women who wanted to kill them. But a wise man would claim as Charlus did, as they ran up the stairs: the Death Eaters were trapped with them. Most of them were only young and inexperienced recruits, with little skill in battle and only following the ramblings of a fanatic. While the Rascals were each hardened veterans of the Grindelwald War, with one of them least devoted to the fight having dozens of deaths credited to him alone. Not to mention there were two Barons, a title only earned through clear and irrefutable great acts in battle. Not to mention a reputation that kept children from disobeying their parents too much, lest the Barons come for the child.
And so, when they reached the first floor and found the entire floor to be refurbished into a barracks-like room filled with Death Eaters, hostile Goblins, and Vampires, they were met with faces laced with fear, rather than eagerness for battle. Arcturus immediately conjured a wall a third of the way through the floor, reducing the numbers they had to face immediately down to about thirty.
Those they could handle.
Hyperion Greengrass immediately grabbed his cane at about the middle, and pulled it apart, lengthening it until it was longer than he was. Then, he immediately sped forwards. For while the man's wand work, potions skills, and business acumen were commendable at least, no one doubted he truly was a close range fighter. He immediately darted between bunks, and whacked a pair of Vampires in the jaws, one biting himself because of it, before throwing incendiary potions at both, burning them alive.
Fleamont Potter drew his wand with one hand, and a flask with another, and started to work on his own section of the room. He threw one flask at a Vampire, a blinding potion judging by the fact he rubbed at his eyes, and hexed it until it was nothing but a mess of jelly vaguely shaped like a woman, before setting it ablaze as well. A duo of Death Eaters tried to ambush him, but their effort was uncoordinated, and he easily rolled aside before charming the bunk and locker they stood between to press together, crushing them alive.
Hector Longbottom, meanwhile, was also fighting close range, though he still kept his wand in hand. But while Hyperion mostly relied on speed, Hector dealt with his opponents through his physical and magical strength. He picked up a pair of goblins with his bare hands, and tossed them into three more of their fellows. He then hexed a bunk to collapse on top of them, before firing a Reducto at the ceiling and letting it collapse on top of them. Another younger and inexperienced Death Eater, whose wand had been dropped in the scramble to get to the Rascals, flung himself at Hector and clung to his neck like his life depended on it. Hector turned and walked backwards, slamming him into another bunk, before shooting a Reducto in his face, and a piercing hex at the one behind the Death Eater, who'd been trying to get an angle on Hector. The latter missed, though, but the bunk behind him still collapsed as the supports for it were heavily damaged, still putting him out of the fight.
Charlus and Arcturus moved to join in, but a few loud thumps made them turn. They found themselves facing Abraxus Malfoy, Claudius Nott, and Cadmus Rosier, with Antonin Dolohov and Tyranus Pyrites bringing up the rear. The pair of Barons smiled. The other three could deal with the low-lifes; Charlus and Arcturus would deal with the real talent. After they dealt with Malfoy, Nott, and Rosier, of course.
A simple tripping jinx took care of the first three, as the three snobs were too stupid to shield, and Malfoy toppled the remainder of them. Dolohov and Pyrites jumped over them, though, and proper fights began, Dolohov heading for Black while Charlus headed for Pyrites.
Charlus sent a Fulmenio at Pyrites, whose eyes widened as he immediately jumped over the railing and dodged the lightning bolt. He unfortunately still clung on, though, and with one swift heave and momentum pulled himself up almost immediately, firing a killing curse to keep Charlus from stopping him. Charlus immediately summoned a nearby bust of a Maria Riddle, and her head took the curse for him, shattering to pieces. Charlus retaliated with one of his own, but Pyrites ducked underneath it, sending his own curse at Charlus. Charlus conjured another javelin and sent it straight for Pyrites' heart, dodging the curse at he banished it. Pyrites unfortunately moved, taking it in his upper shoulder instead of his heart, but was still hit.
As Pyrites winced in pain and tried to pull it out, Charlus gave him a kick, sending him over the railing, and Pyrites fell down into the spacious foyer. For good measure Charlus sent the piercing hex to the chain a chandelier hung from, and it fell on top of the man. There was a splatter of blood, and Charlus looked away, satisfied he was out of the fight. He turned, and saw Arcturus and Dolohov were fairly evenly matched, neither having a clear advantage as they duelled.
Charlus sent a banishing spell at Dolohov, and as he was occupied with Arcturus, it caught him off-guard. At the angle it was cast the duelling champion only hit the wall, but it put him on the defensive. He was in the middle of two Barons out to kill him, and he knew it. Charlus cast Fulmenio again, this time hitting Dolohov's wand hand. The shock, not enough to kill him or knock it out since it hadn't been that high-powered, made the man drop his wand, and Arcturus immediately summoned it. Like any reasonable wizard the man had a spare, though, and it was in his hand in an instant. He immediately flung Expulso at Charlus, who jumped over it and let it demolish the stairs below him, while the Death Eater immediately blocked an organ-melting curse from Arcturus.
Dolohov cast an Expelliarmus, and soon had his own wand in hand again. He immediately cast two Confringos at the Barons, forcing both to dodge. In the confusion Dolohov jumped over the stairway railing, landing next to a moving Pyrites. He quickly grabbed the man and apparated away, and the Malfoy, Nott, and Rosier snobs did likewise.
Scowling because they didn't manage to confirm a kill on even one of them, they headed back up to the others. They were immediately forced to duck: while the segregated thirty had swiftly been dealt with, the remainder had torn down the wall separating them, and now they had nearly seventy people to deal with.
Those they couldn't handle. Hector immediately scrambled back into the staircase, while Hyperion, bleeding from a shoulder wound, covered him and Fleamont with a Protego. Hexes came at them from behind, though, as vampires from another wing of the manor started cursing them from the opposite balcony. Charlus winced as he ducked into cover beside his brother, unsure what to do at the moment.
They were suddenly bathed in orange light, as flames engulfed the entire opposite balcony. The next moment a window broke, and Charlus looked up to see a cackling and Seraphina Bones fly in, jumping off her broom and landing on the shoulders of a pair of Death Eaters. Her pointed (and intentionally sharpened) heels dug into their shoulders, and as she rolled to the ground they scraped a bit of flesh out their shoulders, making them scream. As she rose she gave a quick kick at one (Charlus winced as the heel accurately hit the eye, even through the mask), before whirling around and hexing the other through what remained of the window.
She turned to the others. Her outfit in battle, as they were used to by now, was more suited for Halloween: instead of her usual dress robes, she wore a black full body suit and cloak with a hood, and a white skeleton painted over her, complete with a skull painted over her face. An eccentricity of the Bones Twins, but none could complain with their results. "Am I late?" she asked, picking up her broom from where it had landed, shrinking it, and putting it in a pocket of her pants.
"Impeccable timing as ever, Sweetheart," Hyperion complimented. "Where's your brother?"
His answer was provided, as the room they'd previously fled from was suddenly doused in flame as well, and they all moved in as they heard another cackle. The entire room was basically covered in an inferno, and Seraphina's brother (dressed in similar black ominous attire with a skeleton painted onto him) was laughing as he raced around the room on his broom, dousing a group of goblins in flames.
"Ah, here comes the Cavalry," he laughed, as he moved to hover beside the Rascals. He dismounted, and like his sister put the broom away. The goblins, already mostly burned to their bones, toppled. After a brief inspection Charlus could see only fifty remained, only thirty of which were unharmed as they'd retreated into a stairwell before Deckard could've hit them.
The Rascals formed up, the Barons in the lead while Fleamont, Hector, and Hyperion covered one side, and Seraphina and Deckard on the other. All of them raised their wands.
The fifty remaining Death Eaters all surged forward, knowing what the price would be for disobedience. The higher-ups might have some leeway due to political pull or skill, but Voldemort wouldn't hesitate to massacre this lot on the spot. Trying to flee now would be a death sentence.
Of course, staying here practically amounted to the same thing. The Rascals immediately set to work, sending hexes, curses, and flasks of dangerous potions at the charging group. The first wave took down a quarter of the group, as they'd all been liberal with hexes and curses involving explosions or violent concussions. They took turns shielding against the return volley of curses before Arcturus sent them all back with a very powerful banishing charm, and the process started anew. Charlus smirked as they did so. Now, with the Rascals all together in one group, they were in their element. It felt just like when they were young: he and his friends against the evil dark lord, with nothing truly stopping them. Of course, they'd been younger then, and we're facing a much more dangerous foe now. But for a moment, as they practically slaughtered the dark minions in front of them, it felt like the old days.
Even the roar that suddenly echoed up the stairs behind them sounded familiar. Of course, as soon as the numbers were down to a level that Hector and Deckard could manage easily, he still turned. Werewolves were dangerous, after all.
Especially Greyback, a werewolf so corrupted and consumed by the Lycanthropy he'd accepted he half-resembled a savage wolf even when it wasn't full moon, and when it was full moon his wolf form had grown to nearly the size of a large bear. Charlus actually had to crane his neck upwards to look the standing werewolf in the eye.
"Greybaaack!" Hyperion warned those still dealing with the recruits, before immediately sending burning debris from the room at the werewolf to slow him down. The wolf easily batted it aside, as he got on all fours and stalked towards Seraphina, the closest of them. But it bought them the time they needed to change. The Marauders weren't the only unregistered Animagus Hogwarts students. Just the youngest, with a record of managing it at the end of their second year, a bare five months after finding out Lupin was a werewolf.
As such, being Animagi was familiar enough for them that they changed as faster than one could blink. Fleamont took to the air in his eagle form, and immediately began assaulting Greyback's eyes. Charlus himself changed into a Griffin, and immediately attacked Greyback's legs alongside the wolf form of Hector. While the three of them had Greyback distracted, Arcturus charged into them. Try as anyone might, no one could physically overpower Arcturus, the big black bear.
Greyback was toppled easily, and Arcturus immediately began mauling the werewolf. Deckard, Seraphina, and Hyperion immediately took a bit of distance, the three of them unfortunate enough their forms were small and relatively harmless, a pair of badgers and a cobra.
Greyback finally managed to kick Arcturus off, though it hadn't saved his jaw or face from massive cuts and bits of his skin hanging loose. The werewolf snarled and tensed, ready to jump at the bear.
Arcturus and the others changed back to their human forms, which Greyback tried to take advantage of and immediately jumped to attack. But the seven were prepared, and the Boneses started casting multiple highly-powered banishing charms at the werewolf, punching him back. Hyperion and Fleamont threw in the occasional exploding potion that made him lose concentration with the bright flashes in front of his face and the concussive waves of the blasts, although his skin was too tough to harm with the small flasks they'd brought. Hector cast the Piercing charm in rapid succession at the muscle tendons, and the werewolf howled as he was brought to his knees, confused, disoriented, and in pain.
Charlus conjured multiple silver javelins, and launched them at the werewolf with powerful banishing charms. While silver wasn't lethal to Werewolves, contrary to muggle myth, it was painful and irritating. And to have them slammed into his body at the speed Charlus banished them... if they'd been launched at a human arm, it'd been torn off. As it was, the Werewolf was thrown against the wall as they all hit his upper chest and shoulders, next to the window of the front of the building. He still got up, though, and Charlus gritted his teeth. There was a reason, after all, that the Ministry hadn't managed to put Greyback down despite confirmation that he was responsible for half the Lycanthropy victims in the country, and suspected of a quarter more.
Arcturus, though, still had a cruel card up his sleeve. As the werewolf snarled at the rascals, Arcturus pointed his wand at the Werewolf's jaws, and spoke an incantation Charlus hadn't expected yet knew to be gruesome with the power the Baron would put behind it.
"Accio Werewolf teeth."
Charlus watched in horrified fascination, as dozens of werewolf fangs were violently torn from Greyback's mouth, and all of them sailed towards the Baron, covered in blood as the Baron dodged them swiftly, leaving them to imbed themselves into the wall behind him. The Werewolf howled in pain as his teeth were pulled, and blood freely flowed from his mouth as he clutched at where his teeth used to be.
Arcturus sprinted forward while the Werewolf was stunned, throwing his cane like a spear into Greyback's shoulder, and tackled him right through the window, falling down to the ground below. Considering the floor was ablaze and without any more hostiles in sight, the Rascals all swiftly jumped after him.
Charlus landed in a roll, observing the battlefield around them. Arcturus had changed into his bear form mid-fall, and was once again mauling away at a defensive and retreating Greyback. The Death Eaters were unfortunately attacking full force, their number seemingly unaffected by the Rascals' efforts as dozens more Death Eaters fired curses from the three upper floors. The plan to eliminate them had only worked partially: while they were stuck in the burning manor, they were still capable of throwing curses at the Great Alliance members. Deckard and Seraphina noticed this too, and were back on their brooms and in the sky in less than a second, leading multiple aerial members in fire bombing the building.
But the Great Alliance, fortunately, was holding up extremely well. While the Death Eaters had them outnumbered roughly three to one, the Rascals and their allies seemed far more skilled, and if Charlus had to guess ten Death Eater were killed on average before one of the Great Alliance died. It seemed here that Quality won out over Quantity.
Even Dementors didn't seem to be a problem, contrary to what Charlus had expected. The things hovered on the edge of the property, but pairs of members kept them at bay, one of them casting a powerful Patronus while another shielded them both from attacks by Death Eaters.
Charlus couldn't let them have all the fun. He immediately picked out a mid-level member in the crowd, Thorfinn Rowle, and cast a killing curse at him. Thorfinn dodged by luck, as it went over his head, but the damage was done: the Death Eater was distracted, and while Rowle sought out the new threat, Hector sucker-punched him from the side, and banished him into a trio of Werewolves trying to get at Lana Shafiq, who along with a dozen others had drawn swords to deal with the things as they were too close to hex.
Charlus turned to find a newthreat, but found his attention drawn to the side, and away from the battlefield. A bit off, on a side road to Little Hangleton, a bright golden dome covered part of the road, and people were seen on the edge of it. Trusting his instincts, he fought his way towards it.
Tunnel exit, road between Riddle Manor and Little Hangleton
Harry paled, as he saw Voldemort stand before him, his face twisted in a cruel sneer. For the first time, with the pale moonlight and the raging fire in the background near the manor itself, Harry got a good look at Voldemort's face, for once not covered in darkness. And it wasn't pretty, trapped somewhere in the halfway point between the Tom Riddle persona Harry saw in the stolen memories, and the Lord Voldemort monster Harry saw resurrected in the graveyard. The nose was almost flat, the skin was a pale white, the green eyes had a strong, red hue to them, and veins were visible on his skin and forehead. But aside from that, he still resembled Tom, with the dashing hair, handsome features, and charismatic aura. Well, the latter would be there were it not for the battle. The sneer, and the wand pointed at Harry's heart.
"I must say," Voldemort sneered at them. "Your stupidity is staggering. When you passed through my hidden emergency exit, did you really not account for independent intrusion wards at all?"
Harry glared back, even as he admitted to himself that he hadn't. Then again, he wasn't infallible. And Bellatrix and Amelia, the two oldest of them, hadn't either, judging by their faces. Still, it was a stupid mistake he wouldn't make again.
"Shouldn't you be out there, fighting alongside your fellows?" Harry asked instead. "From what I'm seeing you're clearly losing."
"Oh, don't worry. Incapacitating you will take barely seconds," Voldemort retorted. "Avada Kedavra!" Harry instinctively cast the first spell that came to his mind, the first duelling spell he'd learned. "Expelliarmus!"
Harry saw the curse green curse come straight for him, and Neville, Amelia, and Bellatrix immediately dodged as they themselves also prepared to fight Voldemort. Before any of them could cast, though, the spells collided, and Harry's eyes widened. Oh, how had he been so foolish to forget?
The spells, instead of ricocheting of one another and heading to the sides, connected into a solid golden beam between him and Voldemort, with multiple smaller golden threads coming off of them that encircled them multiple times until they were both covered in a bright golden dome, with the others locked outside.
As at the graveyard, Harry and Voldemort's brother wands had (once again, from Harry's perspective) initiated Priori Incantatem.
The beads started in the middle, and Harry immediately willed them to Voldemort's wand. The latter looked shocked at what was happening, and was observing the threads with great scrutiny even as they fought their battle of wills, his focus not on Harry at all. Harry was in turn surprised by those events, but didn't stop to consider them. Not when his very life hung in the balance. With every bit of his strength, he willed the beads in the centre back to Voldemort's wand.
They were already almost there by the time Voldemort noticed the change in the beam between their wands, and by the time he did it was already too late. Only in the last instance before they connected did Harry feel a tinge of resistance. And it was not enough to stop him.
The beads connected, and the shades began to flow. A pop, from when he'd apparated here. A loud sound, from the sonorous Voldemort had cast. The shade of a middle-aged man, from the one that had died for questioning him. Followed by quite a few more shades, that although Harry didn't recognise them, Harry presumed them to be Muggles judging by their attire. Likely the ones he'd killed in a raid or when they'd been imprisoned.
Harry didn't stop to look at them. No one he truly knew would be among them this time, and Harry needed to figure out a plan. Once the connection broke, Voldemort would be back at him, and he wouldn't be caught off guard with this a second time. He would break it much sooner, and Harry and his friends would be dead, regardless of the skill of Amelia and Bellatrix.
Harry remembered something in that moment, from the Peverell book he'd been perusing at Hogwarts. It mentioned spell-bending, and how it could be- no, had to be- done wandlessly and silently, if one had an indomitable will. Well, he didn't have much to lose. If he failed, or if he did nothing, he and his friends would be dead anyway. If his plan succeeded, he might wound Voldemort and force him to retreat, or at least push him back a bit and give them some breathing room. With all the power he and Voldemort were pouring into the connection, it was doable. Focusing on that magical energy, furrowing his brow in concentration, he willed the connection between them to become less stable, more violent and harmful...
A loud crack erupted between them, and Harry opened his eyes. He immediately widened them. His plan had worked. Bolts of Magical Energy erupted from the centre of the connection like lightning, and the vast majority struck fairly close to Voldemort. The Dark Lord, realising he was in peril, pulled his wand away and broke the connection, but it was too late. A single bolt struck him at the collarbone, fairly close to the neck, just as the violent breaking of the connection blasted them both to the ground. He immediately fell down, clutching the wound, while unnoticed by all but Harry a silver object was flung loose from him as he did. A silver locket with a large, serpentine S on the front landed right in front of Harry's feet. He felt an instant dark pull from the object, a very strong compulsion charm, and for a moment raised his wand to curse it. He knew without a doubt that thing was dangerous.
But Voldemort suddenly started patting his neck, and for a moment a flicker of panic crossed his face. And Harry realised Voldemort valued that locket.
Harry quickly snatched it up and pocketed it before Voldemort noticed. Until they knew why he valued it, they couldn't risk destroying Voldemort's locket. It might be something worthless, of merely sentimental value, although Harry doubted it, or it could have a map to the Horcruxes inside. They didn't know; all they knew was that Voldemort wanted it, and they needed to know why.
Voldemort looked up, and snarled as he raised his wand once more. Harry raised his wand to cast a shield charm, but was pulled away before he could, and a second later another killing curse struck where he'd lain seconds ago. Harry looked gratefully at Amelia, who lowered her wand and ended her summoning charm.
"Thanks," he breathed, as she softly lowered him down, mindful of his ribs.
"You're welcome," she said, before returning her attention to Voldemort. The latter glared at them, but couldn't do more as Bellatrix immediately had started duelling him, fighting for their lives. The dark witch cast various curses, including Crucio and Avada Kedavra, in an attempt to keep Voldemort from killing them, but she was outmatched. As good as she was, Voldemort effortlessly conjured brick walls between himself and the Unforgivables, and simply shielded himself against the others. Soon, Bellatrix was forced back, step by step, as she dodged or blocked organ expelling or bone breaking curses. Harry contemplated helping her, but Amelia joined the fray before he could, and he sank to his knees as exhaustion and pain from the torture hours before, the battle, and Priori Incantatem minutes before finally caught up to him. Together the two women tried pushing Voldemort back, in an attempt to give Harry and Neville some space. But it was no use. Even against these two admittedly formidable witches Voldemort was only slightly inconvenienced, and after the initial surprise of facing two opponents instead of one, he swiftly regained the offensive. Bellatrix was soon thrown into Amelia, blood seeping from her nose and a cut in her eyebrow. And Amelia had a small swelling on her head.
Curses started hitting Voldemort from behind, and he had to jump aside to avoid a killing curse. Harry turned, and found to his relief that Charlus was running towards them and casting spells, three men and two women right beside him. Seeing the man hold an old pocket watch that was softly glowing blue, he knew Charlus was only there to get them out. He grabbed hold of Neville's shoulder, who immediately clasped Amelia's arm as she collapsed in her own exhaustion beside him. Bellatrix collapsed a bit further away and out of physical reach, but she held up her own locket and winked. Then she glowed blue before disappearing with her own Portkey.
Charlus grabbed hold of Harry while the other five attacked Voldemort on sight. Two fell to his killing curses before they could even get their own curses off, and a third had her spell harshly rebound against her, hard enough she was flung back against a bit of hedge. The last Harry saw before he Portkeyed out was a fourth tackling Voldemort, only for the Dark Lord to roll with it and somehow end up on top and standing, his right heel on his opponent's throat as he raged and launched a curse at Harry in Parseltongue. The loud whirl of a Portkey prevented him from hearing what incantation it was, though, and the next moment he knew, when the sensation of something hooking into his navel stopped, he saw he was in a hastily raised hospital wing.
The Potter Manor Eastern Wing.
He smiled, taking solace for the moment in the fact he was safe.
Bare seconds after he realised that, a pop echoed. Then another. Then three more. After that, the pops and swooshes of Apparation and Portkeys didn't seem to end, as everyone on the Great Alliance that had fought to break them out seemed to return. Hyperion and uncle Fleamont immediately turned to Dorea and Hyperion's wife Agatha, who seemed to be the nurses in charge, the latter directing them to someone whose guts lay open. The pair immediately got to work. Baron Black apparated in right alongside Charlus, and the two shared irritated gruff nods before Arcturus (with only bare scrapes across his back from Greyback he could heal himself even if they would scar) left the wing, knowing he'd only get in the way. Hector made a brief appearance as well, and immediately took Neville aside and hugged him tightly, which Neville nervously returned. Amelia got up, only to move to a nearby bench and lay down.
"Hey?" he asked, nudging her a bit to keep her from nodding off. "You all right?"
Amelia smirked without opening her eyes. "You know, Potter, I can give you one thing," she answered, amusement clear in her voice.
"And what's that?" he asked nervously.
"I've had worse dates," she said with a straight face.
Harry couldn't help it. With all the events from the last day, being kidnapped and tortured by Voldemort before being rescued and almost killed, he needed to loosen up. He laughed, getting hysterical in the next few seconds. Amelia seemed to find it infectious, for she soon joined in.
Harry couldn't hold on, though, for his laugh soon turned into a cough. He clutched his stomach as a sudden pain erupted from it, and he looked down. His stomach, as well as his hands and shirt, were red with blood, and he also felt it dripping out his ear.
You can never escape me, Harry. Echoed throughout his head.
The last thing Harry remembered doing was vomiting before he fell down, and he was unconscious the moment he hit the floor.
Riddle Grounds, Little Hangleton, England
Lord Voldemort sneered, as he killed the last one. So close. He had gotten so close to capturing Harry Potter again. But the boy had Portkeyed away with his father. As had the Longbottom boy and the Bones wench. He really needed to curse something. Preferably Bellatrix Lestrange, the accursed Blood traitor. But she had Portkeyed out on her own, and was nowhere to be found. And when he tried to summon or track her using her Dark Mark, she ignored him entirely, and he couldn't pinpoint her beyond being somewhere in the UK. Wherever she was hiding, the wards of that place were too strong for his mark to penetrate.
"My Lord," someone spoke, and Lord Voldemort turned around. The young Corban Yaxley was on his knees in front of him, head bowed in submission. "The Manor is ablaze with multiple Fiendfyres, and many have already been killed or captured. What shall we do?"
"Is the weapon safe?" Lord Voldemort asked. Many things could change and be replaced. Vampires and Werewolves could be retrieved from the Continent, as Viktor and Greyback weren't irreplaceable, and Pureblood Fanatics could easily be recruited elsewhere. But if his creation... If his weapon against the Muggle World was destroyed...
"Yes, My Lord." Yaxley reported. "I personally ensured the essentials were transported to the new Headquarters, and what couldn't be saved can be reacquired or recreated in less than a day. I myself ensured no one of the Great Alliance saw it."
So his weapon was safe. That was good. If his dream of a world rid of everything Muggle were to come to fruition, he needed that weapon. But it was at a fragile stage, easily destroyed if one wasn't careful. And even when it was completed, its usage took a while and could easily be stopped by any competent wizard or witch, even a mudblood. Hence why this required the utmost discretion, and why his new headquarters was at such a remote location... right under the Ministry's nose.
Lord Voldemort gazed to the Manor and the grounds. Yaxley was right: the Manor would burn to the ground, and all those caught inside would meet untimely ends. The Bones twins covered everyone else as his enemies retreated, their mission accomplished, the Twin Terrors themselves casting a final pair of Fiendfyres before flying off. Greyback let out a final howl as they flew quite close over him. It would be another blow against his forces, especially so soon after the ministry attack, but he could recover. The Catacombs themselves were protected by shed Basilisk skin Lord Voldemort had recovered from the Chamber of Secrets, and would survive a Fiendfyre. But with this location now known to the enemy, it wouldn't be safe to house the weapon here.
He turned back to Yaxley, giving orders for him and every other ministry spy to return and maintain their cover. His mind wasn't fully into it, though, as he walked back to his followers that remained. No, his mind was on Potter. The boy was a threat, contrary to what many would think. True, he was young, unknowledgeable, and inexperienced. Not to mention very stupid. But he knew too much. He had been inside his chamber, and seen his real name. He had Salazar knows how recovered a memory of him turning Sheesa insane, even though Lord Voldemort had been the only one there at that time. Lord Voldemort needed to know more about the boy.
But the boy intrigued him as well, especially with all he memories he'd seen. Oh, the boy might think them useless, but Lord Voldemort was nothing if not perceptive. The supposed walk to a Quidditch World Cup: During that walk they'd said they were still in England, yet England hadn't hosted the Cup since before Lord Voldemort himself had been born. Or the memory of the Weasley family. Seven children could be identified as theirs, yet at this point in time Lord Voldemort knew there were only two, maybe three at the most. And the patriarch and matriarch looked considerably older.
But the biggest clue the boy was more than he seemed was the memory of him rifling through the papers in a muggle home. The boy might not have noticed or realised it, but there had been birth certificates in there, of a Vernon Dursley, and a Petunia Evans, later Petunia Dursley. And, most intriguing of all, a son named Dudley Dursley.
Born in 1980. Even though the current year was 1975.
Yes, the boy greatly intrigued him. The memories shown to him were true ones, for he was clearly too inexperienced in Occlumency to forge a memory on the spot. Thus, if what Lord Voldemort had seen was true, the boy had acquired memories from the past and the future. A very absurd possibility, true enough. But the alternative, the boy being a time traveller, was even more so, and thus, Lord Voldemort presumed he had merely acquired, maybe divined the memories from different times. It would explain how he got the memory of Sheesa.
He would have to think more of it later, though. He had arrived at the gathering of followers standing in front of the manor. It was close enough to dawn that the werewolves had changed back, and Greyback was now standing amongst his fellow werewolves in a bathrobe. Travers was helping Rowle back to his feet, healing the man's jaw.
And there was Dolohov, laying Pyrites down on the ground so healers could deal with him. "Antonin," Lord Voldemort softly called. The warrior immediately turned, and moved to bow before his Dark Lord.
"You desired my presence, my Lord?" He asked.
"Yes, Antonin," Lord Voldemort answered. "As soon as everyone is back at the new headquarters and everything is taken care of, you will have a new mission."
For his defiance, the boy would pay. And if he was close enough to Petunia and Vernon Dursley to get a look at their birth certificates, and at such a young age, no less, they had to be very important to him. And for his defiance, Lord Voldemort would have everything he valued taken away from him.
"There are two families, muggle ones the Potter boy valued. Evans and Dursley. As soon as everything's moved to the island, wipe them out. All of them."
Antonin bowed dutifully, before turning to other duties. Lord Voldemort smiled, before making a glance around to make sure everything was in hand here. It fortunately was so, Dragomir Despard doing an expert job of directing everyone and everything around to make sure things got done as quickly as possible. Safe in the knowledge things would be taken care of, he Apparated to the island of his new headquarters.
Lord Voldemort smirked again. The fact he could establish his headquarters here was a sheer testament to the ministry's incompetence and stupidity. Sure, there were half a dozen Aurors supposed to be stationed in a small house on the edge of the island, but it had been child's play to have them rotated and replaced by either loyalists or people easily placed under the Imperius. There should naturally be more for such a large island, but the main building's guardians strongly dissuaded the Ministry from doing so, the souls of their Aurors sucked out the moment they did so, only driven off by a Patronus.
It hadn't always been used for this, of course — at least not full-time. That only truly began when Lord Voldemort began his crusade, and Abraxus Malfoy and Claudius Nott persuaded, more accurately bought off or threatened, the Wizengamot into dedicating the island to being a prison full-time.
It was the perfect cover. The Dementors, despite the Ministry's illusions to the contrary, were under his direct and absolute control. And while the levels above ground could still be used as the cover for prisoners, everyone who wanted to serve him, or already did but had been captured could easily be let free.
And besides, it was not as if the Ministry realised the true size of Azkaban. Without Parselmouths, they couldn't.
Lord Voldemort had been on the island before, when he had learned the Soul arts of the Dementors first hand. During his stay he'd come across a very interesting thing. Sections of the building that would later become the prison had been sealed off, only accessible by Parseltongue. And when Lord Voldemort had unlocked them, he'd found out something amazing.
The prison was far larger than anyone had ever discovered, and stretched on below ground beneath the surface of the water, for miles and miles down. In fact, if Lord Voldemort guessed right, the central shaft one needed to travel through to reach the lowest levels could've pierced the planetary crust and created a local volcano.
But the levels themselves were the most fascinating. Many rooms turned out to be quarters, bathrooms, dining halls, storage facilities... But there had also been libraries and halls with treasure that could fund their operations for decades to come. If he were to guess, someone had once used Azkaban Island as a personal fortress to house their army in, before it had been abandoned because of unknown circumstances.
Salazar Slytherin had passed through here once, Lord Voldemort had found out to his pleasant surprise, on his travels after abandoning his fellow founders. The man had stayed here for a time, long before the first Dementor had ever shown up. He had used the libraries to his advantage then, and learned a lot of useful things that Lord Voldemort himself applied today.
It was here Lord Voldemort had found his weapon. Or at least how to create it. There were still things missing, of course. It required powerful sacrifices, incredibly intricate rituals, and ingredients from around the world that were near-impossible to get, like a forcefully taken albino griffin feather, or the clipped teeth of a living Chimera's snake head, retrieved under a winter new moon. And there were dozens more ingredients that needed to be added that were often a bit rare, or plenty but hard to get, that ensured that Lord Voldemort would need to spend years, if not decades, acquiring them all.
Well, Lord Voldemort had spent years, as had his followers. And he was so close now. Lord Voldemort didn't waste time: as soon as he arrived at the island he strode through the gates, and immediately unlocked the one hidden in the floor with Parseltongue. He strode down, before flying down the shaft. It would take hours to walk down, and he didn't have that much time on his hands.
As Yaxley had promised, the weapon and parts and ingredients were safely stored in the designated chamber, a large circular room with a shaft beneath them, a central pillar raised from the abyss that reached just as far down as the central shaft. The Weapon, once completed, would be launched from the centre. The roof above could be opened up, he knew, granting it access to the outside world. Of course, unleashing it took time, and could be stopped by even the slightest form of interference. Hence, when it was time, Lord Voldemort would have it defended by only those he trusted.
Himself, and anyone possessed by his Horcruxes.
Yes. If he did this, his dream for a world rid of Muggles would come true at last, and magicals could rule the earth once more.
As they were supposed to.
As was their unquestionable right.
As was Lord Voldemort's destiny.
Et voila. Chapter 6 is done. Tell me what you think of the Neville/Bellatrix scenes, since I'm very nervous about how well I did them.
I've got a minor request from all of you: marauder nicknames for the time travellers and their Animagi forms. I want to give all six of them such nicknames, but I'm stuck. All I've got is one for Neville. Any thoughts or ideas would be greatly appreciated.
Next Chapter: Harry recovers and has a talk with his 'father' and 'uncle', Antonin joins a family dinner, Halloween rolls around, and Potter Manor gains two as a result. And last but not least, Harry learns of the suspicions about the Slytherins... with surprising results.
Read and Review, s'il vous plaît.
Lucian
