Here's the latest chapter - major revelations abound.
XVII. The Shadow War Part One: King Fall
Harry
I was in the cavern deep underground Azkaban.
I was in the Pit.
I looked up, ignoring the ache in my neck and my broken arm. My vision was still fuzzy. I squinted, and a figure came into view.
Augustus Rookwood.
The tall, pock-marked man swept back his greasy hair as he studied me, a shrewd look on his features. He was wearing a black overcoat. I could see the orange of a Barden's Keep prison uniform beneath it.
"How'd you escape the Keep?" I asked, my voice hoarse.
"I still have some friends. Their knowledge of wards is quite extensive, as your man - Y, was it? - found out to his cost."
I smirked.
"Didn't stop him from taking the bastards with him, did it?"
A flicker of annoyance crossed Rookwood's face.
"It doesn't matter. I still have plenty of loyal soldiers," he replied with a gesture.
"Meet the London Group. I understand you've been quite anxious to make our acquaintance."
Thirty, forty - I couldn't be sure - figures stood around the cavern, watching us intently.
"And who will oppose me? Wrath of Merlin is done, Harry."
He knew.
"How do you know about Merlin?" I said, trying not to betray my shock. There was no point feigning ignorance.
"There are whispers, Potter, if you know where to look. You think you can hunt us like dogs, kill a household full of Death Eaters and no one will notice? The people are blissfully ignorant, oblivious wretches…but we are not so wilfully blind! We know about Kingsley's little Operation. And we know about your excursions in Paris. The Parisian has a lot of men. Not all of them are as loyal as he'd like them to be."
"How do you think his daughter was kidnapped? How do you think those pictures of you were taken? My men watched your little Operation, Harry. We watched, and we waited whilst I bided my time in the Keep."
"I have to admire them, really. My former colleagues in Mysteries took a piece of blunt steel and forged you into a remarkable weapon…truly the Dark Lord's equal. But there are a vast number of us, Harry. And although your body count is very impressive, we survive still."
"What are you planning?"
"I'm going to finish what the Dark Lord started. Tonight, we begin the shadow war."
"Why tell me?"
"I'm telling you this because I want you to know that all you've done will ultimately be for nothing."
If he wanted a war, then he'd get one.
I focused inwardly on my magical energy, preparing to strike.
It wasn't there. Where once had resided surging, indescribably exhilarating energy, I felt only a devoid emptiness.
I tried again.
Again, nothing.
I couldn't cast magic.
The realisation chilled me to the very core, and my face betrayed my shock.
"It won't work, Potter," Rockwood replied with a wide grin.
"What? How-" I exclaimed, my mind reeling.
Rookwood snapped his fingers and one of his Death Eaters handed him a spherical object.
"Do you know what this is, Potter?"
He held an orb out in the pale light. It was similar to a Quaffle in size, and had a muted red glow.
I frowned. I had no idea.
"You don't?" Rookwood exclaimed with a smirk upon seeing my confusion.
He gave a short, barking laugh.
"Potter, I'd like to introduce you to another one of Shacklebolt's little secrets. This is the Nostradamus Light."
A chill ran through me. I recognised that red light. This was what had caused the second explosion of magic that had torn through X and myself.
"See, Shacklebolt feared you, Potter. He feared your power, what you had become. He feared you would succumb to the darkness. And so he took out something of an insurance policy against you, just in case your expedition soured."
"Did he tell you, Potter, that this would be your fate? Used as a weapon, only to be discarded of and disposed by something even more powerful than yourself once you had fulfilled your purpose?"
"You're lying," I spat.
"No, Harry. I'm giving you the truth. I'm telling you what Shacklebolt wouldn't."
"This is a weapon to end magic! Who else could possibly create something like this? You know what the Department of Mysteries is capable of - just as I do. You must believe me, Harry. Just as Dumbledore planned for you to die, so did Shacklebolt."
Rookwood set the orb down with a rueful expression.
"Your part in this, at long last, is over."
"You will languish in the Pit for the rest of your days as we pick off the Order of the Phoenix and your pathetic little Army. We will be patient. It does not matter how long it takes. One by one, every person who fought us at Hogwarts, every person responsible for our defeat will die. "
He reached inside his robes and pulled out a Quidditch magazine. It was the one with Ginny on it.
"I might even pay Ginny Weasley a visit personally."
"Not her…" I whispered hoarsely.
"I killed her brother, and eventually, I'll be done with her too," he said, a cruel smile crossing his gaunt face.
"And when there is no one left to oppose us, I will take the Ministry. Fear will reign."
"People will rise up against you. You can't take their freedom."
"No, Potter, they won't. I will destroy their trust in the Ministry. I will destroy their hope in you. They will flock to me, fight for me. And for those that still oppose me, I will destroy their faith in their own safety."
"But you will not live to see that happen. You will spend the rest of your life in this hell."
"The MLE Stuns prisoners before putting them in here in an attempt to make what they do appear humane. We will offer you no such mercy. The cage will protect you from their Kiss. The misery that the Dementors will inflict on you, from that there is no such protection."
"It is said that most conscious wizards lasted a couple of days down here before they began to go mad. The record, I believe, stands at something like a week. I wonder, Harry Potter, how long you will last?"
I was unceremoniously shoved into the golden cage by two burly henchmen. I sunk to the floor as the door closed with a ringing finality.
I saw Rookwood's smirking face as he peered at me through the bars.
"Oh, I almost forgot."
He reached into his robes a second time and drew out my wand. He waved it in front of my face, mocking me, before taking it in both hands and snapping it.
"You won't be needing it anyway."
He threw the pieces over the edge.
I glared at him, refusing to look away. He seemed only amused.
"What will break you, Harry Potter? Will it be the Dementors? Or the knowledge that you will die here, a raving lunatic, having failed to save those you love the most?"
"Because rest assured, Harry, I will come back one day. I will raise you from the Pit myself. And when I do, you will know - despite your inevitable insanity - that all your loved ones are dead, and that this world is mine."
"And then, only then, will I permit you to die."
There was a sudden jolt, and then the cage began to inch downwards.
Tendrils of soft golden light appeared, circling around me before making contact with my chest. I felt a jolt in the pit of my stomach.
Y had said the cage would magically sustain whoever was held captive inside it. This was how.
The dim light receded as the cage travelled downwards.
I did not look down. I knew what was waiting.
And then the light was a mere speck.
I could feel the eerie chill of the Dementors as they rose to meet my descending cage.
Here, they were not afraid.
The light disappeared, and the golden cage grew dim.
The Dementors swarmed around the cage, a symphony of rattling breaths, their wretched presence surrounding me with total desolation as the light and joy disappeared from my life altogether.
I could hear my mother's screams, as she begged Tom Riddle to spare me.
And then, once more, my world went black.
Rookwood watched with a certain satisfaction as the thick golden chain descended below the swirling, howling darkness of the Pit.
Potter was no more.
He turned and spoke to Creedy.
"Prepare our departure for London. It is time we let the cat out of the proverbial bag."
—
"And that's it for this afternoon. Madam Moxie will return to answer all your relationship questions next Sunday. Up-to-the-minute news will follow the commercial break."
"…and we're out!"
Madam Moxie reclined back in her chair as an aide rushed to fetch her a glass of wine. Her producer gave her a thumbs up from behind the glass partition that surrounded her booth.
"When am I getting a primetime slot, Harvey?"
"Moxie, you know the demographics aren't looking so good for those times right now, but in a couple of months-"
"Then what the fuck do I pay you for, Harvey?"
"Moxie, I-"
Harvey never finished his sentence. Madam Moxie watched in stunned disbelief as a fist-sized hole punched clean through his chest. Her scream didn't come until he'd toppled off his chair, with a fountain of blood splattering over the glass booth.
Black robed figures in hoods were suddenly everywhere, indiscriminately casting jets of green light as a chorus of rumbles and screams burst forth.
The man who had killed Harvey made her way to her as she cowered on the floor.
"You're the woman who gives love advice, aren't you? I've got a problem. I can't seem to hold a girlfriend, see? They keep dying on me."
Moxie gaped, too terrified to form words.
The Death Eater frowned.
"You don't know? Well, maybe if I show you. See, they usually die like this!"
Later, a Hitwitch would find Moxie's body, sans a severed head.
Rookwood surveyed the carnage as his Death Eaters tore through the defenceless WWN broadcasters.
"Creedy, make sure some of them stay alive. We need hostages."
"Of course."
Within a couple of minutes, the Death Eaters had corralled a small group of WWN employees into a control room. Rookwood scanned the group of hostages, before singling out a woman.
"Crucio!"
He gave only a hint of a smirk as she writhed in pain on the floor, her cries eerily soundless.
"Now that I have the pleasure of your undivided attention, I need someone to switch to the emergency broadcast frequency."
"But that'll open a line to every wireless in Britain! Only the Ministry can authorise a switch," exclaimed one of the executives.
Rookwood pointed his wand at the man and he died in a flash of green light.
"I am in no mood for trivial technicalities," he said with a hint of frustration. "The frequency. Now."
Another hostage, her hands shaking, stood and tapped her wand against several dials in the control room.
"It's…it's r-ready," she stammered.
Rookwood took the microphone and began to speak.
The wireless in Kingsley's office let out a high pitched beep.
"That's the emergency frequency," a secretary remarked.
"We never authorised a broadcast," another added, concern in her voice.
"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. Today, we're taking a break from your regularly scheduled monotony to deliver a public message."
"But before that message, I have a warning for the MLE: before you send the Aurors in, understand that this is a hostage situation. We have the employees of the WWN captive. Attempt an assault, and we will not hesitate to execute them."
"But where are my manners? Of course, you should know who you are talking to."
"My name is Augustus Rookwood. Some will recognise my name. For those who don't, I am a Death Eater, and until very recently, I was incarcerated in Barden's Keep."
"Send a squadron to the Keep! Now!" yelled Kingsley to the secretary.
"Right now, I imagine orders are being shouted, memos are being hastily scribbled, and that the MLE is in something of an uproar."
"Shut down Diagon Alley! Get me the MLE Chiefs!" Kingsley yelled over the sound of the wireless.
Ginny
One of my roommates burst into our room.
"Ginny, come quick! There's a Death Eater on the wireless!"
We dashed down the girls staircase and into the Common Room. At least half of Gryffindor House were gathered around a portable radio. The room was silent bar the voice coming from it.
"But that is of no importance. I will be gone before they reach me here. And now, my message. Ladies and gentlemen, tonight I would like to inform you that Harry James Potter - the Boy-Who-Lived, the Chosen One…is dead. Harry Potter is dead."
There was a collective gasp from the group.
"He fought valiantly, as you would expect him to, but in vain. Harry Potter is dead."
"No…" I whispered. It couldn't be true. This Death Eater had to be lying.
"You may think I am telling a lie. I assure you that I am not. I would not lie to you." "But there are liars amongst us! They know where Harry has been. They know what he has been doing since he vanished. And these people are none other than Kingsley Shacklebolt and Arthur Weasley!"
My mouth dropped open in shock.
Kingsley sat down, and grabbed a bottle of Firewhiskey from a desk drawer.
"That's right. The leaders of our world have lied to you from the very beginning."
"The people will want to know. Tell them, Minister. Tell them what Operation Wrath of Merlin is, and why it is responsible for the death of Harry Potter."
The wireless cut to static.
The Minister for Magic took a long swig straight from the bottle, then uttered a single word:
"Fuck."
Rookwood gave a smirk as he set the microphone down on the desk. He looked at the hostages, grouped in the middle of the room.
"Kill them."
His Death Eaters moved in with a chorus of Killing Curses.
"We need to leave. The MLE will be here momentarily," said Creedy, his hands and robes slick with blood.
Rookwood nodded at his lieutenant.
"Are the explosives ready?"
"Of course."
"Give the word."
Creedy fished out a mirror from his robes and spoke into it, before looking back to Rookwood.
"We've got about thirty seconds before the wards repair."
Reaching inside his robes again, Creedy pulled out a folded umbrella and offered one end to Rookwood. Around them, the other Death Eaters were grabbing onto similar Portkeys.
"Let's go!"
Only moments after their departure, the WWN offices exploded into flames.
Kingsley exhaled slowly, before resolve settled on his features.
If they wanted a war, they'd bloody well get one.
He took a mirror from his desk drawer and spoke into it.
"Get me Arthur, the Department Heads, and the Auror Commander."
Arthur was the first to arrive.
"Kingsley, you don't think -" "No, I don't. We have to believe that Harry is alive."
"What do we tell the Department Heads about Wrath of Merlin?"
"It doesn't exist. Follow my lead."
Within a couple of minutes, the rest of the Cabinet had assembled in Kingsley's office. Kingsley stood at his desk and spoke:
"I have summoned the Wizengamot to convene in two hours time. This what needs to happen between now and then."
"I'm declaring a state of emergency for the entire nation. I want trading suspended on the Exchanges immediately."
"The goblins aren't going to like it," said the Trade Minister.
"Well, they won't like it if the value of Galleons halves by tomorrow morning either."
"Right now, we need to control public communications. Can we broadcast from anywhere else?" asked Kingsley.
"WWN Scotland is on standby. We've got a squadron of Hitwizards there now standing guard," informed the MLE Head.
"Good. Is Diagon Alley secure?"
"Happening as we speak."
"I'll address the nation tonight. I need language prepared for a conference after the Wizengamot session."
An aide nodded and made her way from the room.
"Gawain, I'm Unrestricting the Aurors. I don't care if Rookwood comes back dead or alive. Just find him."
The Auror Commander nodded grimly.
"Minister, what about Wrath of Merlin? And what of Potter?" spoke another of the Cabinet members.
Kingsley sighed.
"I can tell you all right now that I have never heard of Wrath of Merlin. Nor has Arthur. It doesn't exist. As for Harry Potter? He has risen from the dead before. Rookwood specialised in manipulation and slight-of-hand. What he says cannot be trusted."
"The safety of our people is our highest priority. Get to work. It's going to be a long night."
A few moments after the Cabinet members had left, V made her way into Kingsley's office.
"Tell me you have news," Kingsley said urgently.
"Minister, we've found X. He's critically injured, but alive. We're transferring him to St Mungos now," she replied.
Kingsley breathed a sigh of relief.
"When we found him he wasn't breathing. They tortured him to the very edge of his life before leaving him for dead."
"What of Harry? And Y?"
"No sign of Y. Harry was there, but it's hard to say when or for how long. Another magical signature is blanketing nearly everything out."
"What signature is that?"
"The Nostradamus Light."
"That can't be possible," Kingsley said, his face paling.
"Yet it is. M is verifying it now, but our field team is almost never wrong."
V exhaled before continuing, her face a grim mask.
"Minister, the Department of Mysteries has been compromised. And that is more terrifying than anything else that has happened today."
Kingsley took his place at the head of a table in an Unplottable room deep beneath the streets of London. Including himself and Arthur, seated to his right, there were seven wizards total.
"They say this room is ten miles below the surface of the earth. Are you feeling any warmer?"
This earned a short chuckle from around the table.
"Gentlemen, we are all friends. Many of you have fought alongside me in the past, and offered your wisdom when I was appointed as Minister. You trusted me then and I'm asking you to trust me now. What I am about to tell you does not leave this room under penalty of high treason. This is a card I have kept, to this point, very close to my chest."
"Officially, Operation Wrath of Merlin does not exist."
"Unofficially, two Unspeakables - codenamed X and Y - and Harry Potter formed a black ops team and have been hunting down Voldemort's supporters and followers since July of last year. It has a black budget, and they do not take prisoners."
Not one of them seemed taken back by Kingsley's revelation.
"We lost contact with the operation late last night. The Department of Mysteries sent a recon team to their last known location. They determined that Y used a Life Spell, in likely defence of Harry Potter."
"Sorry, for those of us who don't who what a Life Spell is…?" asked one of the seven.
Another, a short man with a striking black beard spoke up:
"A Life Spell is magic worthy of Merlin himself. It's the controlled detonation of a wizard's magical energy. It's immensely complex, and due to its destructive nature, the spell has effectively been lost in antiquity. I'm surprised the Unspeakable was able to cast it."
Kingsley began speaking again. "The extraction team from Mysteries discovered X, close to death, a few hours ago. Ten minutes later, and they would've been too late. There was no sign of Harry when they found X. He is being treated at St Mungos as we speak, but it would be unwise to revive him for debriefing lest we kill him."
"Harry Potter is missing, allegedly dead. I don't know if that's the truth, but we obviously cannot utilise him in any capacity until we know for certain."
"What could Potter do, if found?"
"He is realised, Gregor. His power is exponential. X and Y dedicated themselves to ensuring his combat readiness. Whenever he wasn't battling Death Eaters, he was duelling with the Unspeakables. Their training unleashed his magical strength in a way that Hogwarts could never do. Remember, this is the boy who at thirteen conjured a corporeal Patronus and drove off the Dementors hunting Sirius Black."
"Yes, I recall. Albus was very pleased with Potter at the time," mused another of the seven.
"What are we telling the media?"
"That Rookwood is dangerous and a madman. We're denying any knowledge of Harry's whereabouts or association with the Department of Mysteries."
"What do we know about Rookwood?"
"Rookwood supposedly died in his cell in the Keep two days ago. They thought he'd willed himself on fire. The postmortem confirmed it, but a more detailed autopsy has proven the first a false positive."
"So he escaped by staging his own death."
"Anyone else?"
"No, just him. He was in a solitary cell."
"How did he do it?"
"He had help from the outside. Somehow he was able to orchestrate much of it from inside his cell."
"But how? The wards on the Keep should be impenetrable."
"That's the thing. There's no sign of them being tampered with. It's almost like he got up and walked straight out of the Keep. Furthermore, it's likely he had Julius Creedy assisting him. Creedy rose to prominence in the Second War - one of a handful of Death Eaters to gain access to Voldemort's inner circle last year. He's a talented curse breaker, and spent time in a low-level research division in the Department of Mysteries."
"Creedy has been at large since the Battle of Hogwarts. He's one of the most-wanted on the MLE's list," added Arthur.
"How he got out is unimportant in the face of more pressing concerns: At the very least, the public is suspicious, we don't know what's happened to Potter, and Rookwood has just declared war," summarised one of the warlocks.
"We must allay public fears. Leave the Department of Mysteries to continue their search for Potter, and mobilise the MLE to deal with Rookwood," said another.
There was a murmur of consensus from around the table.
Kingsley stood.
"Thank you gentlemen. That's all for now."
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