Chapter 11
Demise of the Taboo
Glentress Forest
Snatcher team eight were doing as they tended to do most morning. Patrolling the wilderness near Edinburgh and Glasgow. A patrol that they would follow up by additional patrols of the cities proper.
The twelve of them were good at their jobs, if Albert did say so himself. He was the newest member, only having worked with them for six months, but he was considered fully inducted and experienced enough that he may as well have been the first by now.
"Carmichael thought he detected traces of an alert ward near here yesterday." Albert's partner, Erica, said. "He said the traces were so faint that they were likely torn down by whoever created it. But they might come back."
Albert nodded at her information and drew his wand. Carmichael was a far superior ward whisperer than he, but that was more due to age and experience. He was good too and would surpass his coworker in time.
They walked a checker pattern around the area, one going east to west, the other north to south, but always maintaining eyesight on the other. This was to help notice if the other person veered off due to a compulsion they themselves didn't notice.
Indeed, Albert found those same traces of an alert ward, but they were so faint that they couldn't be less than a month old and he would never have found it if he hadn't specifically been looking for it. He concluded that it was the same ward Carmichael had discovered on his shift and that whoever made it hadn't returned.
"Taboo activation detected." The cool female voice of M.O.M rang out from their badges. "You are the nearest snatcher team to the offender. Your badges are now portkeys to the offender's location."
Albert and Erica shared a look and a shrug. It was pretty rare for somebody to be stupid enough to say the Dark Lord's name. So it was always an exciting prospect to be the ones to capture them. Usually, stupid kids trying to get a scare out of somebody or show how brave they are. They'd go in, put the fear of god in them and send the dumb kids on their way.
They were nice that way.
"Flees From Death." Erica mumbled into her badge and disappeared as the portkey activated.
Albert made to do the same when a movement out of the corner of his eye and crouched into a defensive position, wand pointed at the dark mass. In the dreary darkness of the early morning he couldn't make out any movement in the trees where he heard the sound.
He suddenly realized that he just split from his partner leaving him alone here with whatever made that noise, assuming it was anything and all, and leaving Erica alone wherever she wound up. This was a very bad thing to do and each second that passed by increased the likelihood that he would be written up.
"Flees from death." He murmured into the badge while keeping his wand at the ready in the direction of the sound.
The ever-familiar sensation of a hook grabbing him by the navel took him from that forest and when he dropped back into the physical world it was to see nothing but a thick cloud of dust and dirt.
Then came the noise. The shattering of stone, crashing of steel on steel and screeching of tires.
"Carriobanyan!" A voice yelled from above and he leapt aside just in time to avoid the unknown spell.
The deep red curse hit the ground where he previously stood and from it erupted thick, rotting roots like that of large rainforest trees. If those trees were made of rotting flesh and bone, or an illusion thereof.
He crawled along the low visibility and rubble covered ground with elbows and knees, keeping a tight grip on his wand and not caring about the bruises he'd suffer for it. Soon a rain of blasting curses fell upon the street and with it a similar rain of rubble, steel and class.
He heard a scream to his right and recognized the voice as his partners.
"Erica!" He called out and crawled faster towards where he thought she was.
He crawled and he crawled, his mind going blank in the cacophony of spellfire and what he recognized as gunshots. If he were able to concentrate on anything over the sound of his heartbeat in his ears or his own hyperventilation, he would have recognized the voice of some other members of Snatcher Team 8 yelling curses and promptly falling silent.
All he could focus on was crawling towards his point of obsession his warzone-addled mind had given him. And when he came upon the sticky puddle of goop in the road, he didn't register what it was until his hand came to rest on a mass of hair he recognized. He lifted the head attached to that hair and gazed upon the decapitated head of Erica. The surprise at meeting her maker etched into her expression like a flash photograph.
Something hit him in the stomach. A foot. The force of the kick lifted him from his hands and knees onto his back. That same foot can back down on his stomach pinning him to the ground and Albert gazed up into the deep emerald eyes of the aberration.
"Percussio." He enunciated clearly and deeply.
Light jumped from the tip of his black wand and pierced right through his heart and into the ground below with such force that an updraft of dirt, stone, bone and the tattered remains of his heart erupted from his chest like a geyser.
He remained alive just long enough to register how impressive the overpowered piercing curse really was.
"Morsmordre!" Harry cast into the sky for the second time that morning.
The dark mark now flew emblazoned across the sky in both Magnolia Crescent and Charring Cross road. Of course, he couldn't see either at the moment because the dust, dirt and smoke in the air from this first ambush had yet to settle. He glanced down at the snatcher he'd just performed a cardio-ectomy on with an overpowered piercing curse. He couldn't help feeling surprised at the two-foot-deep hole in the earth past the ribs and viscera.
He'd done that? He was worried his casting might be a little weaker after several days without practice since Hestia insisted he rest. Perhaps she had underplayed the importance of rest after those few days of constantly being near magical exhaustion? He'd find out in a few days, for he fully intended to work himself back into that exhaustive state today and would need a long nap. What, with so many locations of battle to get to.
"Where am I needed?" Harry called over the walkie talkie on his collar.
"Kings Cross and Wandsworth roundabout teams are struggling." Mrs Bullstrode's voice replied.
Kings Cross was closer, and Dudley took priority over Piers. Not to mention Mr Tonks being a significantly superior asset to Mr Cattermole. Mrs Cattermole balanced things out over in Wandsworth though.
A few moments later, when the sky came into view and he could verify the successful conjuring on his part, he left Piers in charge and apparated away.
Draco reappirated, wandless and unarmed, in the Malfoy manor cellar. Empty bottles of wines and spirits littered the walls, and broken glass did the same for the floor. The alcohol supplies were much diminished since Voldemort's followers started running roughshod in their family home. Disgusting animals.
His heart thundered in his chest at what he knew was coming, that his father's life would flicker away any second now and the family head ring would appear on his finger. Absolute power over all Malfoy property and the magics therein. Then he'd have work to do.
Marching down the rows of broken bottles he approached a small podium containing the itinerary of drinks. Ignoring the book completely he reached behind the podium and flipped a switch, releasing the compartment door to the front of the podium. That's where the stronger substances were. Dimethyl ether, for ether parties, absinthe and a few other party favors that didn't interest Draco at the moment. He reached into the expanded space and brought out a bottle of mint absinthe and popped the bottle open on the corner of the podium. It was a simple enchantment to have it de-cork wine bottles.
Just then he felt a burning sensation on his right ring finger and looked down to see the family crest staring back at him. A green and black shield with a n italicized "M", guarded on both sides by two proud dragons. Several similarly black serpents jutted out of the top.
"Sanctimonia Vincet Semper." He read the family motto written below the M.
Purity will always conquer. And his home was filled with filth that needed purifying. He would prefer holy fire as a caustic agent, but beggars can't be choosers.
Taking a swig from the bottle he disrobed, down to a pair of jeans and shoes, and raised his transplanted arm into the sky. No Dark Mark, just darker skin juxtaposed to the pale milky flesh of his original body. The sudden break in color past his elbow was something he would never get used to.
"I am Draco, Lucius Malfoy." He declared. "Son to Lucius, Abraxus Malfoy and patriarchal heir to the most ancient and noble house of Malfoy. I declare this house anathema to all who would follow the dark lord and declare them hostile enemies, and all similar enemies of his are friends. So mote it be."
The magic of Malfoy Manor settled over him. He was now as one with the house. Every room, every person and thing within its walls, were known to him as if planted into his brain. With a single thought he locked the entire building down. Every door slammed shutt, every window shuttered. Nobody may enter, nor leave, until his work was done.
With another thought he unlocked the cells downstairs.
Taking another swing from the bottle he apparated to the main foyer, the top of the stairs overlooking the entire grandeur of his home. There were unwelcome guests here, suffocating underneath the wards and trying to break out of their hold. Such wards tended to be a bit overpowered immediately after a transferring of headship. A defense mechanism, to protect the next heir if the previous died.
"Welcome one and all to Malfoy Manor!" Draco bellowed to everyone in the room, locking eyes with one unfortunate individual trapped on the stairs as he took another swig.
"Of course, I say welcome with not even a hint of sincerity, you are all trespassers and will be punished accordingly." Draco told them.
Finishing his last sip he broke the bottle against the railing of the staircase, ruining the 14th century rug with the green liquor inside. As if anything in Malfoy Manor was salvageable after months of these slobs marching around with their muddy boots and eating or drinking in the hallways or bedrooms instead of the grand dining room like civilized human beings.
"Unfortunately, I am currently bereft of my wand." He explained as he brought the broken bottle up to his face to admire the sharp edges of his makeshift weapon. "But I think I'll make do."
Good God! Cresspool's curse turned that snatcher's head inside out like a macabre water balloon. Harry would have to get him to teach him that one.
He felt the anti-appirition wards settle back in - Mr Tonks was kind enough to take them down for a few moments so he could get in - and took stock of the situation. Just shy of twenty snatchers by his estimate, with eight taking up the roof to the king's cross station and the rest taking cover amongst the downed vehicles, buses mainly, mirroring the actions of his own six-man team.
The constant peppering of killing curses, explosion hexes and the occasional cutter or piercer from the 40-meter-high roof kept most of them pinned. Harry noted Dudley cowering behind an oddly shaped stone statue and caught his eye. He nodded his head, indicating to Harry that he would be ready to take advantage of any opening he made for him.
Fortunately, nobody had spotted him yet. Or else he never would have attempted such a stupid maneuver as this. Stupid maneuvers were his specialty.
With a deep breath he pointed his wand at the clock tower bisecting the station and simply... pulled. Heaved, really. It wasn't even a spell per-se, just a tug of war with the stone foundation. Magic so simple that an incantation was wholly unnecessary after a certain age. Like the levitation charm.
The loud cracking of stone and cement was lost on most around him, the sound of battle drowning it out. He could only hear it because he was focusing on it. But the sharpshooters up top surely felt it when it finally gave, the supporting structure which held up the two halves of the roof falling like a tree on a path closer to Dudley's hiding place than Harry would have liked.
The walls on either side of it came tumbling down with it, taking the snatchers to the ground in a rain of shattered glass, stone and a large amount of twisted steel.
Harry took cover behind a tree as the sheer drain on his stamina of his feat took hold and he tried to catch his breath. Fortunately, his gamble paid off as the distraction of an entire damn building collapsing, and half of the enemy forces falling to their deaths, was enough for his allies. As one they leaped over their cover and advanced.
Cresspoll lead the charge with a fire whip that cleaved the overturned triple decker across from them in two. For a healer in training, he was a bit of a badass. Not as much of a badass as Dudley advancing on the snatchers who survived their fall. He fired from the hip and revealed his Regulus-modified shotgun to be fully automatic as a constant stream of shells spewed forth. The pellets drilled into the conjured shields but did not break them. The rune-powered thunderbolts that followed, did.
"Morsemordre!" Cresspoll cast from where he stood victorious with the others.
That was three.
Harry, still out of breath and not getting better, stood up and began issuing orders.
"Collect the dead and their personal effects. Be careful to check for portkeys and do not handle anything with ungloved hand." Harry panted. "Johnathan, Dudley, with me."
The first nodded as the others got to work and came to him. Dudley took his sweet time getting to Harry's position, busy reloading his shells and replacing the burnt-out runes for his weapon. Mr Tonks took lead on the cleanup crew.
"Mrs Bullstrode?" Harry intoned over the radio.
"Wandsworth Roundabout is ready to receive you." She replied.
Cresspool took Harry's elbow while Dudley grasped his shoulder and he side-alonged the duo to the center of the small plot of trees and grass next to the white metal atom structure of Wandsworth Roundabout. They arrived just in time to see Mrs Cartermole give the last snatcher a merciful death with the killing curse. He looked to have suffered a nasty organ-exploding hex, so it was clearly a mercy.
"Is that the last of Voldemort's followers we have to deal with today?" Harry asked, deliberately saying the name just in case a few more stragglers wanted to join them.
"Wards canceled by trace again. You have incoming." Mrs Bullstrode's voice warned them.
They each leveled their weapons in a different direction, until the telltale popping sound alerted them to the center of the plaza. Standing beneath the large white structure of steel, somebody had lit the jumbotron above it on fire, were four snatchers. Scratch that, three snatchers and a junior Death Eater. His bronze skull mask differentiating him from the silver and white masks of the higher ups.
Dudley, Mary and Johnathan took to either side of him, ready for a fight.
"If it isn't Harry Potter himself." Said the Death Eaters, removing his mask to reveal a mop of blonde hair. "You may not remember me, but I certainly remember you."
Harry squinted at the man. He did look vaguely familiar, but Harry couldn't place it.
"I am Terrance." He explained.
It wasn't ringing a bell. It was brushing up against the bell, but not ringing it.
"Terrance Huggs?!" He elaborated, but somehow the full name brought Harry further away from remembering. "Slytherin Seeker!"
"Oooooooooh!" Harry said. "From my first game. That's right! The only one I ever played against you. How have you been, crucio?"
The complete nonchallance with which he cast the unforgivable without skipping a beat in his question caught the man off guard. The pain curse brought him to the ground and his allies leapt behind the steel support structures on either side.
Dudley acted instantly, firing one of the preinstalled spells on his gun. It was a fireball. It probably killed Higgs instantly, but Harry followed it up with a run of the mill blasting curse when he felt the artificial high from the cruciatus sever. Definitely dead, and Harry barely broke a sweat.
The protegus wall he summoned to give Mary breathing room to conjure some physical defenses against the return fire brought a significantly heavier sweat. In his defense he was blocking some hefty blood freezing and lung-crushing curses. Teh sudden bluryness of his vision and the ringing in his ears he understood, Dudley sure was intimate with that trigger, but why was Harry already so winded?
"Switch!" Mary commanded.
Dudley and Johnathan Cresswell went on the defenses. The former ducked behind one of Mary's granite obelisks to reload while Johnathan took over Harry's twelve-meter white shield. For most passing a spell between wands was a tough skill to learn, let alone master, but for Harry and Johnathan, a healer in training who needed to be able to take over medical spells in a split second, it was like passing a baton.
He and Mary fired a steady stream of piercing curses, relying on accuracy over the raw displays of power like the ones they had just performed. Their opponents were clearly using Auror tactics as well, two shielding and two firing.
Oh hey! Higgs survived. Obviously taking over the shielding part of that dynamic, with the lower half of his charred body left to pieces. Just as Dudley was trapped only being able to provide offensive aid, they had one who could only do defense. He should recommend Regulus add a shield charm as a function for his firearms.
"Bring it down on their heads!" Mary hissed from beside him.
Harry looked up at the smoking monitor. After what he did to that clock tower this ought to be easy. Metal was easier to tear down with magic than stone, especially with a little rust spell. With some creativity he could mix it with a wide area cutting curse. Would take some major prep time though.
"Everyone cover me!" He instructed before jumping behind the last standing obelisk.
They obeyed. Shells, shockingly dark curses and Mary's usual far more tame offensive spells bombarded their foes hiding place. While they did that, Harry got right to work on crafting a spell hybrid. Prepping a wide area cutting curse to start.
It was not a spell one used in battle. On account of it required you to wave your wand and arm above your head in a circle like a ribbon dancer a number of times equal to the power you intend to cast it. It's one of those spells that are powerful, but also announces to the entire battlefield to "shoot THAT guy!" You couldn't cut anything stronger than grass with less than three circuits. In fact, grass was the intended target of this spell. It wasn't even technically a curse and was known colloquially as the scythe charm.
Anyways, around the eighth spin above his head Harry began to weave what he liked to call the rust monster spell into it. He chanted the incantation in his head with each spin over his head, trying to imbue the second spell into the first. Most spellcrafting was done on paper first, and spell mixing usually required two people. So, he really was performing this by touch, which was stupid, but these kinds of things tended to work out for Harry.
It was at the fifteenth spin over his head that he felt the magic "click" into place and he leapt out of his cover and let the spell loose. It flew like a scythe of murky brown air, the color of which told Harry his experiment was a success before it even hit the legs of the steel monument. It passed right through all four of them, cutting rusted wounds all the way through. It came tumbling down on their enemies heads seconds later.
They might have tried to apparate out, but by now Mrs Bullstrode would have already reinstated the wards locking everyone in. They were crushed by the falling jumbotron almost instantly and Voldemort lost a very talented young Death Eater.
You chose the wrong side Higgs. You could have been somebody.
"Morsemordre!" Mary Cattermole intoned and cast the fourth Dark Mark into the sky.
In the distance Harry saw two more join the four already up. One to the north and one to the east. Those would be the London Zoo and the University of London. Shame, he had hoped to drop by the zoo and have a quick chat with his old friend from Burma. Maybe some other time?
But that made all six battlefields. Six places most likely to get attention from both wizarding and Muggle populations. Well except for Wandsworth, but come on, it has wand in the name. The battle was won. By tomorrow Voldemort's followers would come to fear their masters mark too. It was no longer their weapon to use. It was his. The Taboo was no longer their tool. It was his. And soon Voldemort's government would be exposed to the world and the Statute of Secrecy broken forever. Piece by piece Harry would chip away at it.
All as Ron planned.
"I need you two to join me on my portkeys to Malfoy Manor, Mary, Johnathan." Harry commanded the two. "Dudley, I expect you to take charge here and clean up."
They all nodded as Harry retrieved a length of rope. The portkeys Draco had made for them.
"I'm a little surprised at the lack of Death Eaters backup." Mr Tonks' voice came over the radio.
"Apparently most of them are out of the country." Mrs Marchbanks voice told them. "With Harry Potter dead Voldemort decided to put all of his effort into conquering Durmstrang."
"Wait so, you-know... ehem, Voldemort and his strongest are out of the country?" Malcolm's voice asked. "The whole country is up for the taking!"
"That is neither luck nor providence." Harry commented between panting breaths. "And it is an advantage I intend to extend for as long as possible. Thankfully only those of you who now fight beside me and the people we are rescuing today know who I am. That I'm alive."
Harry returned his hood back over his head, not realizing it had fallen until Higgs recognized him and not caring to put it back up until the people who had seen him were dead.
"I dunno, they've had the other refugees in there for a week. Could they have interrogated the information out of them?" Cresspool said.
"They did not. The prisoners are kept under a silencing ward until pickup for trial. No consulting, no pleading, no trying to threaten their captors." Harry told him, knowing this only because his other half had been living it for a week now. "And Mrs Bullstrode, if you could apparate Emily Warbeck to my position, I would like a fully trained healer on hand when we arrive at Malfoy Manor. In case any of our loved ones need help." He instructed.
She obliged and a few moments later the two ladies joined them, the younger handing the older over.
They each grabbed hold of a part of the rope and made ready for a fight. Harry knew from his Better Half that their destination was free of living enemies, but his companions didn't.
"When I give the all-clear have the others take the remaining portkeys." Harry instructed Mrs Bullstrode. "The passphrase is Voldemort."
Nobody flinched as he said the name and transported them to a familiar, for him, grand gallery.
When they arrived it was to find Draco sat slouched at the bottom of his stairs with Jessica comforting him. There were five corpses in the main gallery with dark stains around them.
Harry knew the snitch to be tucked in Jessica's pocket and he even knew the names of most of the others in the room. The entire entourage of those captured by snatchers that night Harry recruited the elders amongst them.
"Mum!" Mary's youngest, whom she had left behind during Harry's betrayal the last week, exclaimed when he saw her.
Harry watched at the partial family reunion and tuned out their conversations. Each and every person wanted to know the whereabouts and wellbeing of their loved ones, and Mrs Warbeck made herself busy checking the physical health of whoever she could coax into remaining still long enough for her to examine them.
Harry's focus was on the piss drunk pureblood and former "rival". The thoroughly mutilated man's arms were coated in blood from elbow to wrist. He tried not to stare the surgical scars, from where an entire human dissection had been performed on him. He failed.
One long, thick wound from chin to naval. One taking up the entirety of each arm. And one encircling his chest. It was a gruesome sight. Harry made a mental note to find a way to restore his appearance, at least. Scars have terrible effects on the mind, the self image is important for a healthy psyche.
"I believe this belongs to you, Lord Malfoy." Harry said with a bow as he produced a length of black wood. One that had served him well in these last weeks.
Draco eyed his own wand with great want, but his etiquette prevailed even in his obviously drunken state. He stood and gave a much shorter bow, before holding both hands out as if accepting a sword.
"I thank you for carrying it back to be, Lord of houses Potter and Black " Draco said as Harry handed it over.
"Now, let us call on Ollivander, I need to be fitted for a new..." He was going to say "wand" but an unexpected cough interrupted him and brought the conversation to an end.
For a moment he thought somebody had splattered India ink on them, for a thick black liquid had sprayed all across Malfoy's deathly pale face and body, and the gloved fist Harry had brought up to catch the cough. Then came the smell. Then came the taste.
It wasn't blood. It was too rotted, for it smelled and tasted like tepid grey water from a septic tank. Not even a hint of copper, just foulness. And it had come out of him.
"My Lord?" Jessica asked, the concern in her voice confusing him almost as much as the moniker he had never asked them to use when referring to him.
The confusion intensified when the world began to spin and his vision blurred. Then his legs gave out and he felt gravity take over. He registered Jessica and Draco both trying, and failing, to catch him before he tumbled down the few steps of the stairs like a ragdoll.
"Cresspool? Warbeck!" Draco called to the two healers nearby, his voice sounding so far away. "Don't worry Harry. You're going to be okay."
The classical reassurance annoyed Harry. Being immortal and all he knew he'd survive this. But "okay" wasn't a word he'd use to describe a state he was in or would ever be in again.
His last conscious thought, as Emily and Johnathan came into blurry view, was something along the lines of "Huh. Well there goes my lungs."
Then, utter darkness.
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