Chapter 13:

A Carrion Call

Harry focused all of his might on breathing, his agonized body disallowing any other thoughts. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Left foot, right foot.

Honestly, he hadn't had this much trouble jogging five kilometers since his first ever Quidditch training session with Ollie. Even then, he hadn't been anywhere near this haggard. Had Petunia really been so out of shape that her lungs were this piss poor, or had his recovery lost him this much cardiovascular capability? Maybe she was a secret smoker?

Either way he outright collapsed when he reached Warbeck, who thankfully had the respirator and oxygen tank waiting for him.

"Jeez Potter, your cardio is genuinely worse than that of a corpse." Draco said in what passed as an inside joke between them.

Harry glowered at him and Dudley, who had agreed to jog with him only to leave him behind and lap him multiple times. Great job helping with the motivation there you blonde assholes. The two were already done toweling off and there Harry was on the ground sucking on a respirator like it was the last water bottle in the Sahara.

"There is only so much you'll be able to do to improve your lung capacity." Warbeck told him. "You now have the lungs of an early forties woman who never exercised a day in her life inside the body of an athlete and warrior."

It wasn't a good combination. Made less so by the progressing necrosis curse.

"Surly there must be something we could do. Steroids maybe? Or even steroidal inhalers?" Dudley suggested.

"The muggles have anabolic steroids you can inhale now? Or are they corticosteroids?" Warbeck asked.

"Bless you." Harry said with a straight face before diving into his water bottle.

Warbeck rolled her eyes.

"Steroid just means artificial hormone or hormone substitute. The anabolic steroids you're thinking of are effectively just testosterone substitutes, that unlike real testosterone ACTUALLY do cause aggression and other nasty side effects, but there are countless other types of hormones and whatever is in these inhalers could be any number of them. I would have to do more research into them, but we in the wizarding world don't really have trouble treating asthma so inhalers aren't really a thing."

Harry, Draco and Dudley nodded along. It made sense.

"Well, until we have a way to give me back my cardiovascular abiity I will require the respirator, although I foresee walking into battle carrying an oxygen tank being awkward." Harry said as he retrieved his new wand and towel.

It was the wand belonging to one of the many snatchers he had killed a few days before. His followers had collected them all, put the corpses on ice, and had him try out each wand. Having killed their previous masters their loyalty was now to him, but that didn't necessarily make them a good match. This one he'd have to take to Ollivander at shell cottage when he had time. It certainly wasn't his Holly wand, but like Draco's it got the job done. Had more punch to it, but less grace.

Warbeck threw her hands up in exasperation.

"You shouldn't even be out of bed, let alone jogging laps around the mansion. Now you want to go into battle?" She whined. "You just rolled off the surgery table last night. You're insane!"

Harry gave her a hard look.

"You and I both know that I will not be surviving this curse, likely not even this war. My only purpose now is to fight and bring about Voldemort's downfall. And should I perish I intend to have you all prepared to continue the fight. A task I have already succeeded in." He explained. "If I died tomorrow, I have complete faith that those of you here could continue the fight and lead others. But zero faith in your ability to win. So, I clearly have more work to do, and that will require me fighting beside you all."

Warbeck acceded, lowering her head in surrender as Dudley and Draco watched on.

"So, can we make a more portable oxygen tank and mask for him, or is that beyond magic?" Dudley asked.

"Oh yeah, we can absolutely shrink it down and reduce its weight, might even be able to add some spacial expansion charms into the mix." Draco explained, then explained further at Dudley's obvious confusion. "That means we can make a 40 cubic meter canister hold 80, or 200 or more cubic meters of oxygen. Make a tent the size of a house on the inside. Thats what spacial expansion means."

Dudley nodded at the explanation. He sure did like learning about magic.

"Even with that, he will not be able to fight as he usually does." Warbeck interrupted. "He will not be as fast, or nimble, and running around like a seeker casting a storm of quick spells as he usually does just won't work for him, especially with the curse removing his flexibility and muscle speed. He's fast becoming as acrobatic as a rock."

"Then I shall fight as a rock." Harry interrupted her tirade.

The looks they gave him goaded him into a further explanation.

Ever the showman, he took up a stance with his legs spread out and knees bent, a mountain stance so as not to be easily knocked over. Like a wrestler prepared to be tackled.

"I am standing here, and you shall not knock me over. That shall be my fighting philosophy. In place of speed, I shall focus on ending fights with overwhelming directed force, a boulder slid down the mountainside onto the scalpel." He explained. "Everything I point my wand at shall be destroyed, totally and utterly."

Draco nodded along to every word. Dudley and Warbeck were less impressed with his little speech.

"You will require a new training routine to practice all of what you preach." She said.

"Fortunately I have a very good friend who is excellent at planning such routines and battle strategies." Harry countered, before getting up off the ground.

He had caught his breath again and didn't need to rely solely on the respirator at the moment.

"Now. Let's go see what manner of bullshit the day has in store for me."

"Wow." Harry said in genuine surprise. "That is a lot worse than I expected."

Hermione's corpse lay on a metal table, splayed out in all her nude glory, in the morgue beneath the Malfoy dungeons. Every freckle on her pale skin juxtaposed against the deep cuts from her dissection. Cuts identical to the ones on Draco.

He grabbed a nearby sheet and covered her dignity as best he could. The thin material still left quite a bit visible.

"Would everybody besides Draco Malfoy please vacate the room." Harry instructed.

Dudley, Warbeck and Cresspool left, taking with them poor little Jun Chang and Eric Creevey who had discovered the necromancy lab. As they did so, Draco retrieved his recently returned wand and began casting the host of anti-eavesdropping wards, ending with his godfather's favorite.

"Hermione Jean Granger. Ronald Bilius Weasley." Harry said into the resurrection stone.

They appeared and blanched at the sight that greeted them. Although Hermione looked more saddened than disgusted, there was still plenty of disgust marring her features all the same.

"Were they trying to turn me into an inferi?" Hermione asked.

Harry nodded.

"Looks like it." Harry said. "But for the life of me, I can't imagine why."

The three identical looks of "duh" he got for that one made him feel as stupid as they probably thought he was.

"To use me to hurt you, Harry." Hermione explained. "And can you conjure something thicker to cover me with, I don't appreciate Malfoy getting an eyeful.

Harry obliged, conjuring a fleece blanket and covering her corpse head to toe. His new wand made it much larger and thicker than he intended. More punch, less grace.

He thought deeply on her words. That would have proved a devastating strategy against him, especially the him that died with Draco what felt like years ago. But now? Now their efforts brought him some joy, despite the poisoned soil.

"Hopefully they did a decent job so Peter can make the necessary modifications for me to truly resurrect you like I did Malfoy." Harry said.

The glare Hermione gave him could freeze lava.

"You assume I want to fully return to this twisted world?" She snarled and waved to indicate his body. "A world that turned Harry Potter into... this?"

Her words hurt, but he knew they weren't genuine.

"Your parents are still in Australia with their minds wiped, and you have a duty to them to undo that." Harry said simply. "Not to mention all the good you still have left to do on this earth. I am a dead man walking, and I can't think of anybody, save a resurrected Albus or Alastor, who would make a better leader to these people upon my passing than you."

She groaned but gave up the argument. Boy could he not wait for the earfuls he'll be getting from her once he's no longer able to simply dismiss her by removing the ring from his finger. That won't get old fast. Nope. Not at all.

"Tell the others I will need an escort back to Grimmauld place." Harry instructed Draco. "I will be ready momentarily."

Draco nodded before exiting the room. The moment the door clicked shut Ron turned on him.

"Under no circumstances are you to dig up my corpse and reanimate me." He said in all seriousness.

Harry actually laughed at the unexpected declaration. He refrained from informing him that his corpse was far too decayed to be reanimated effectively, as it would reveal he and Peter had already discussed the possibility. He opted to instead answer with a nod.

"I'm only resorting to such for Hermione because these assholes have already prepped her for it. I would prefer us all to go in peace, and do not wish for either of you to remain around in this hell with me for longer than possible." He explained.

"Your intention to commit suicide, likely with the aid of the allies you're currently training up to the task of being your executioners, is not heartening Harry." Hermione chastised. "I would much prefer you use the ritual to restore your body that Voldemort used with you and Wormtail. There is no shortage of servants willing to sacrifice their flesh, your father's bones are easily accessible, as are many enemies to steal blood from. I would also prefer you follow up said ritual with reincorporating your... horcrux."

She gagged as the last word came out of her mouth.

Harry shook his head.

"We've been over this. My mother's sacrificial protection is still active because Voldemort used my blood in the ritual. Unless I could get access to him, I would lose that protection upon gaining a new body while he would retain it. And he has been out of the country for over a month now. As if we'd have a chance of capturing him alive OR dead if he were still here." Harry explained. "I will restore my soul when this war is ended, and promptly die from this necrosis curse. My penance until then is to suffer this body."

He traced the scar on his forehead as he spoke, the other reason for his refusal to do the ritual at the forefront of his mind. Every advantage he could take, he would.

"Ron, I will need you to take possession of one of the prisoners and get to work." Harry said. "I need a new training routine, one that incorporates my new weaknesses as strengths. My cardio, speed and nimbleness are gone forever, but I am still a powerhouse. I must focus on the accuracy, speed and powerful of my spells, in addition to conjured barriers and shielding charms. Can you do this?"

Ron shrugged. "I mean, between developing the plan of attack on the concentration camp and an invasion plan for Gringotts, sure. Pile more onto my plate why don't ya?" He snipped.

"I knew I could count on you. If Peter has finished crafting a new body for himself the pizza boy will be your permanent host from now on. No more sharing." Harry told him.

It was Ron. He was good at planning things, when he wasn't being an overemotional berk. And now that he was dead, he didn't exactly have anything else to do with his free time.

"Make sure you check on Walburga while you're there." Hermione reminded him.

Ron nodded.

"We have no idea what powers we are dealing with in regard to alchemy, and she is clearly involved with the Flamel's based on the magics she was toying with and had sons on both sides of the war. Treat her with caution, work from the assumption that she is MUCH smarter than us." Ron reminded him.

Harry shook his head.

"I will not be personally interrogating her. I will have others, more qualified others, do the work." Harry said.

Ron nodded.

"That's smart. You are susceptible to psychological manipulation, and we don't want to give her the opportunity to get in your head." He added.

Harry stared at him. It wasn't exactly how he would have put it, but yeah. That about summed it up.

Three knocks came from the door.

"Come in." Harry said, waving his new wand to cancel all of Draco's privacy charm.

Malfoy came in, followed closely by Dudley, Cresspool and, of all people, Mafalda Hopkirk and Albert Runcorn. Both had nasty scars across their throats as if they had been slit. He suddenly wondered how many of the people they rescued had already been turned into soldiers for his cause while he was out.

Cresspool himself walked right up to him and handed him a respirator like the one he had been on before. This one was painted black and had several shrunken oxygen tanks on the sides. He noted the button to allow oxygen flow and the switch to leave it pressed. Wouldn't want him to have to fight while holding the respirator button with one hand, nor would they want him to get oxygen sickness, or worse, run out because it was left permanently on.

"Excellent choice of crew. Anybody need to use the toilet? Make a phone call?" He asked rhetorically as he put on the respirator.

They all looked between each-other and shook their heads.

"Then let us be on our way." He ordered.

Jessica released him from her pocket and he flew high into the air, his small golden wings carrying him at near sonic speeds. Up and up he went until he could see the ocean beyond the horizon.

The crew investigating the concentration camp in the Scottish Highlands consisted of her, Malcolm, Reginald and Mary Cattermole. Plus himself. A small, inconspicuous team focused on their ability to scout and flee in an emergency.

With Moody's eye he could see where the ward line started and immediately noticed something wrong. It was down, only a meek echo allowing him to see that one was ever there.

He sped up his pace, keeping a high altitude and taking advantage of his telescopic and x-ray vision to scan the grounds. There were chambers beneath the earth, pits connected by thin, short hallways that one would have to crouch to get through. The labyrinth resembled an ant colony and could comfortably house hundreds of people, or uncomfortably house thousands. He would have guessed the latter.

Strangely there were no bars or doors on the cells, but as each hallway was more than likely patrolled by either wizard or magical creatures unknown such additions may have been superfluous. Large trap doors served as entrances and exits near the ends of every hallway. He flew close to the ground and saw there was bedding with hay and human filth littering every inch of floor in the underground complex, with a large shower room above ground that looked to have been seldom used, likely only by the guards.

The entire facility was enormous but lacking in any and all occupants. It was empty.

There was one chamber near the very center of the complex covered in human remains. Bones mostly and shattered once at that. It was a chamber that more resembled a circular, underground crucible. Unlike the showers, this one looked to have seen a lot of use indeed.

He flew back down to Jessica's position and she snatched him up. He quickly relayed what he had found out on his golden surface.

The place has been evacuated. The prisoners moved to somewhere more secure. We have to go inside and investigate.

Jessica relayed his message. It was going to be a long night for all of them.

"The place is completely empty." Mary Cattermole informed Harry in the kitchen of Grimmauld place. "We missed our chance by days at most, and we didn't find a single clue as to where they would have been moved to. They could be on the continent for all we know."

Her and her team had been waiting for him when he arrived, and now they were debriefing him on what he already knew from his link to the Horcrux that had been there.

"Yes, and they were clearly feeding people to werewolves. I know." Harry told her. "And also, the room you found covered in scorch and claw marks on the far side of the facility? The one with mounds of feathers? There were Veela there and they were not treated well. This explains both the lack of werewolf activity in Britain outside of sanctioned attacks on Voldemort's enemies and the disappearances of Veela overseas. It also explains how they are paying Fenrir and his clan, to say nothing of the vampires that have joined Voldemort."

They all stared at him in confusion. They had no way of even guessing how he could possibly know all they knew and more. It gave him a bit of mystique, a seemingly all-knowing nature he was trying to emulate from Dumbledore. Having the Horcrux and Deluminator to spy on people helped a lot with that.

"So, what are we going to do?" Malcolm asked.

"What we've been doing. Fighting this war. Since assaulting the camp is not an option at the moment, we move onto the next course of action I was planning to do after that." Harry told them. "Until such time as we discover the location of the new camp, which is liable to be a much more challenging target, we have to focus on battles we can fight."

His speech finished, Harry retrieved the mokeskin pouch from an inside pocket and dug inside. He spoke as he searched.

"In the meantime, this premises will henceforth be devoted to noncombatants. Children mostly, and those most qualified to caring for and teaching them." He explained as he pushed aside books and potion vials and other knickknacks in his way. "Cresspool will serve as the fulltime mediwizard here, among other duties. While Malfoy Manor will be overlooked by Warbeck as it serves as the training grounds and base of operations for the actual soldiers, who will need a much more skilled mediwitch on hand."

He finally found the small coin purse and retrieved it from the mokeskin pouch.

"Albert, would you kindly turn the wireless to the Potterwatch station?" Harry requested as he fished a very special Galleon from the coin purse.

The silent man obliged, and soon incoherent static filled the room.

Harry put his wand to the master coin, making a mental note to have Hermione make more coins - with fake Knut and Sickles for different ranking members of his growing army - once she had her new body. He put in the date and time of his next attack. It now read 01-06-1998, 00:00, and in a few moments so would all of its siblings. He finished up by adding a location name where the word "Gringotts" usually were and turned it into "Hogwarts." He then tapped the coin and waited.

Thirty seconds later the static ceased, and Lee Jordan's blessed voice came into focus.

"This is an emergency weather report to all Order and DA members. The Storm Clouds are approaching the Stronghold and we have confirmation that Lightning WILL strike in three days' time. I repeat, Lightning WILL strike the Stronghold on June 1st. This broadcast will play on repeat. This is an emergency weather report..."

Harry listened to the radio loop and smiled beneath his respirator. He had planned to rescue the nameless hundreds or thousands from the camp to swell his forces, as the camp was a much softer target than Hogwarts. But with that no longer being an option it was time to hit the harder target and go for quality over quantity.

It was time to retrieve Dumbledore's Army and put them to war where they belonged.

Viktor Krum ducked beneath the battlements as an eighth wave of Bombarda curses and armaments rained down on the trenches surrounding Durmstrang.

The castle was lost, the last stronghold resisting Voldemort and his forces as they swept through Russia fallen. When the dark lord arrived personally on the grounds, they knew the fight was lost. They managed to resist him for an entire month and change, and perhaps that would have to be enough to take pride in. But reports were in, and the entire magical government of Russia and Ukraine had fallen to him, or more accurately joined him, and he would soon have access to the Muggle government and their resources as well.

From there his invasion of the rest of Europe, a two-pronged invasion from both Britain and the recently collapsed Soviet Union, would be like unto a plague.

He and Poliakoff kept at a crouch as they wound beneath the main hall and into the sub dungeons towards the interior boat docks. It was the greatest feature of Durmstrang institute, its massive underground lake enclosed by the foundation of the castle itself. It was heated by sub thermal vents and that made the Sibeian winters not only bearable, but enjoyable. It boasted an entire armada of ships from different eras, from authentic Roman Dromons and Liburnians to expansion era Sloops, Flutes and Man-Of-Wars.

Boating sports and mock naval battles were the best pastime at Durmstrang and competed with Quidditch for popularity amongst the students, although they played Quidditch in here too with the ship masts sporting rings so the two sports merged into one at times. It's exactly as awesome as it sounds. Especially when they changed the enchanted ceiling to create a genuine storm inside.

The hundreds of resistance fighters left alive were all retreating there as the wards finally came down and Death Eaters stormed the castle. It was to be their last stand, and with the entire foundation of the castle and the enchanted wardstones composing them as a barrier they could surely hold out for several more weeks, assuming the food supplies lasted.

"Make way, wake way!" Anastasiya, the last resident mediwitch, ordered as five people carried in a man on a stretcher from the frontline.

When Viktor caught sight of the man on the stretcher, he knew the fight was lost.

"Igor is down!" She announced.

The reaction was mixed. People both made way and got closer for a better look. Viktor himself didn't budge, because he knew the man would want to see him.

Indeed, the near catatonic leader of the Russian resistance caught sight of him and reached out a bloodstained hand towards him, revealing the familiar gash across his chest that had killed so many before. Whatever the signature spell of the Hogwarts Headmaster was, they had no counter curse nor cure for it. It always resulted in amputation, or death if it hit center mass.

Igor had taken it to the chest.

"Viktor... Viktor." Igor pleaded.

Viktor kneeled beside the man and leaned in close. A man's dying words were a sacred thing, and when he raised a hand to ask for silence the crown obliged.

"I tried Viktor... I tried so hard to prepare you all or his return. People thought I was mad, to teach my students as soldiers, in the dark arts, but it wasn't enough..." He whispered.

Viktor nodded but lacked the words to console the dying man.

"I do not know if he can be stopped, but I would tell you not to try." He continued. "Just... save as many as you can. Get everyone out of here alive, that is my last order to you... after you do that, it is your role to give orders in my place."

He went silent, and the color drained from him as h bled out. He faded quickly after that. Dead, but surrounded by comrades, friends and those whose lives he had saved. It certainly wasn't the worst way to go.

They all remained silent after that, and the bombing of the castle above continued like a thunderstorm.

He thought about nothing, just staring into empty space. His empty reverie was interrupted by a heat on his chest, one almost great enough to burn him. He reached under his blouse and retrieved the chain and locket containing the photographs of him and Hermione during their summer together what felt like an eternity ago. Beside said locket was an imitation galleon the woman herself had sent him. Before his eyes the numbers and letters along its edge changed.

Hogwarts

01-06-1998, 00:00

"What are we going to do?" Poliakoff broke the near silence, voicing everyone's questions.

Viktor glanced around the massive chamber at the gathered crowd. All of the survivors that could stand were standing before him now. So many lives, and all in his hands.

Time to nut up.

"What they least expect!" He said authoritatively as he stuffed the necklace back under his blouse. "They expect us to cower in this chamber, to hold out in despair for the few weeks it will sustain us for. But we shall do the opposite."

He pointed towards the end of the chamber, where the cave opened out and lead into a channel and the ocean beyond.

"Pick a boat, man it and prepare for a long voyage. We are blasting right through and out to sea! While they're busy storming the castle, we will be making our escape straight through them." He barked at the already moving crowd. "Get all of the wounded aboard quickly and all the fighters above deck. We won't all make it, but a one hundred percent survival rate was never an option to begin with."

Boy did they have hustle, the makeshift medical tent was already being emptied into the nearest ships.

"Leave the dead behind." Viktor ordered, before thinking on it. "Burn the crops and salt the earth, figuratively speaking."

They started planting charges on the support structures and wardstones. They might be abandoning Durmstrang, but it would not fall into the dark lord's hands in anything resembling a usable state.

Poliakoff pulled him aside.

"But where will we go?" He asked.

"Where we can fight and win." Viktor answered loud enough for any eavesdroppers to hear. "We cannot win any battles in the east, so we shall go west where other allies are fighting and support them."

He stormed towards the nearest ship, the ghost ship he had ridden to the Triwizard Tournament so long ago. It was going to take him back there now.

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